My Evolving Limitations In Taking Care Of Others
Dear Worlds,
There is a man with mental health issues who comes into the small clothing store I work at, every so often. He is harmless, but he talks a lot while looking closely at the clothes - he knows a lot about fashion craftsmanship - and can stay for a long time. Most of the time when he comes, there is no one else in the store.
Witnessing psychosis can be intimidating to me, and also triggering, because my sister suffered from it, and committed suicide while having a psychotic episode three years ago.
The first two times the man came and I was by myself, I felt uncomfortable. But I found that if I go by the door, mind my own business and don't engage, he doesn't stay too long. When he leaves I say "have a good day!" and he says "yep!" without looking back.
When he comes and it's my colleague who's working, she doesn't mind him staying for an hour or more. She has actually been enjoying getting to know a bit more about him by decrypting what he rambles about. Which has made me feel like I wasn't empathetic enough, and I should be more welcoming with him.
So today when he came in, I stayed behind the counter and tried to listen to him, still hoping he wouldn't stay too long. I vaguely said "oh yeah?" and "hm-hm" here and there, although he doesn't need too much encouragement to keep going.
But although I did find some interest in what he was alluding to - seams and wedding dresses and layers of silk and movie costume sewing -, I also found myself very drained, very quickly. And wishing he would leave.
The space I can hold for a stranger suffering from psychosis is not big. It is small. It doesn't last long.
Because most of my space is busy doing the work of its own healing, from that trauma and other ones, and witnessing psychosis makes my boundaries porous. It makes me feel invaded.
So yes, in this case, I have less space to offer than my colleague. I am less welcoming to that man than she is. And I should be, as long as it takes for me to heal, so I can hold more space again.
As hard and frustrating as it is, these days I am learning to say no to caring for others, when my body is hinting at me that I need to protect and honour my healing process.
There is a man with mental health issues who comes into the small clothing store I work at, every so often. He is harmless, but he talks a lot while looking closely at the clothes - he knows a lot about fashion craftsmanship - and can stay for a long time. Most of the time when he comes, there is no one else in the store.
Witnessing psychosis can be intimidating to me, and also triggering, because my sister suffered from it, and committed suicide while having a psychotic episode three years ago.
The first two times the man came and I was by myself, I felt uncomfortable. But I found that if I go by the door, mind my own business and don't engage, he doesn't stay too long. When he leaves I say "have a good day!" and he says "yep!" without looking back.
When he comes and it's my colleague who's working, she doesn't mind him staying for an hour or more. She has actually been enjoying getting to know a bit more about him by decrypting what he rambles about. Which has made me feel like I wasn't empathetic enough, and I should be more welcoming with him.
So today when he came in, I stayed behind the counter and tried to listen to him, still hoping he wouldn't stay too long. I vaguely said "oh yeah?" and "hm-hm" here and there, although he doesn't need too much encouragement to keep going.
But although I did find some interest in what he was alluding to - seams and wedding dresses and layers of silk and movie costume sewing -, I also found myself very drained, very quickly. And wishing he would leave.
The space I can hold for a stranger suffering from psychosis is not big. It is small. It doesn't last long.
Because most of my space is busy doing the work of its own healing, from that trauma and other ones, and witnessing psychosis makes my boundaries porous. It makes me feel invaded.
So yes, in this case, I have less space to offer than my colleague. I am less welcoming to that man than she is. And I should be, as long as it takes for me to heal, so I can hold more space again.
As hard and frustrating as it is, these days I am learning to say no to caring for others, when my body is hinting at me that I need to protect and honour my healing process.
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| 'Take Care' Illustration by Ness Lee |
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