A Woman in Your Own Right

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A Woman in Your Own Right Page 10

by Anne Dickson


  Robbie: We know.

  Tom: It’s OK . . . well, sometimes it would be nice . . .

  Robbie: So you don’t want us to ask for anything?

  Ruth: No, I’m not saying that. Of course you can ask but you need to know that I’m likely to say ‘no’.

  Robbie: That’s OK.

  Tom: Is that it?

  Ruth: (smiles) Yes, you can go now. How about we have a pizza tonight? (The boys get up from, the table.)

  Robbie: (grins at his mother): You’re sure we can afford it, Mum?

  This helped Ruth to keep saying ‘no’ when she needed to but without the aggression that came from her own guilt and frustration. She didn’t need any more to blame herself so much: by understanding her own feelings and expressing them, she was able to be more relaxed.

  None of this is easy. I know myself that even after saying a clear and assertive ‘no’ to someone, I’ve often agonised about whether or not I made the right decision over an important issue, maybe not immediately, but some hours later. At this point, it helps to speak to someone who knows you and cares for you, with whom you can share your fears and who can help reassure you that you have done the right thing. You can also remind yourself that the level of guilt you feel after making a significant refusal is an indicator of how hard it was for you to do, so give yourself a pat on the back.

  Following on

  You can combine the learning of these past two chapters. Take situations from your own list or use the following suggestions to practise saying ‘no’, but using the skill of self-disclosure whenever you start:

  a. Several colleagues are going to have a drink after work: you don’t want to go but there is a pressure to join in. Practise making a refusal without inventing an excuse.

  b. Your child asks for some more money to buy some sweets.

  c. You are exhausted and have looked forward to a weekend of rest and solitude. On Thursday evening the telephone rings: an elderly relative wants to come and stay.

  d. A friend asks to borrow some jewellery for a party. You do not like lending out your jewellery because it always seems to get damaged and so you want to refuse.

  Checkpoints Invite comments on your body language. Can you look the person in the eye as you say no? Do you smile inappropriately as you say ‘no’? Is your voice assertive or aggressive? Do you speak firmly or does your refusal contain a question? Can you say ‘no’ without being too apologetic?

  10

  The Compassion Trap

  Guilt is sometimes part of a more general syndrome. When I first started teaching assertiveness training, it soon became clear that women in very different contexts and of varying nationalities identified readily with the concept of the compassion trap. This is usually defined as a sense of obligation that, as a woman, you should put everyone else’s needs before your own all of the time: you should always be available and accessible to others. Consequently it is easy to feel guilty about failure, faults and weakness; guilty about letting others down; behaving uncaringly; being a disappointment; being selfish and above all, guilty when you don’t care.

  The compassion trap is deeply rooted in a psycho-social legacy inherited from our mothers, grandmothers and no doubt many generations before that. This inherited image is of the archetypal woman as a central, nurturing powerful force in the family. She is the focal point of the family. She is at home, bearing children: her task is to make sure that there is food on the table, that her husband’s needs are anticipated and met. It is her function to be a homemaker with whatever slender resources are available and to keep the family together at all costs. She is the emotional centre, the heart of the family, while the men busy themselves with work and industry and moneymaking in other spheres. It is to her that the children turn first, with problems, physical and emotional bruises, tears to be kissed away by her. It is to her that the man turns for consolation and relief. She sees herself as a tower of strength, a refuge for those she loves.

  According to the archetype, a true woman’s life reflects the success and failure of her husband and her children. Her life energy is expressed in this love and devotion which nourishes her family. In turn, her own sense of pride and satisfaction depends on the knowledge of giving this to them all, of feeding and watching them grow, taking their strength from her. This is believed to be her fulfilment.

  It’s not hard to see that such expectations might appear quaint and out of step with the younger generation of women who have rebelled against them quite vehemently with the result that current norms seem to have swung in the opposite direction. We are a generation along from the time this book was first written and many women have grown up to expect to have it all: a career and a family, a partner and independence. It is considered a little old-fashioned nowadays to stay at home to look after one’s children and those women who continue to make this choice sometimes feel that they have to justify their decision.

  Despite a change in attitudes among individual women, institutional attitudes appear to be still attached to the archetype: this means that ‘having it all’ comes at a cost.

  Some women clearly prefer the stimulus of work to the ‘drudgery’ of child care and domesticity but if they still decide to have children, a lot of money is paid for child care to enable them to continue with their careers as soon as possible after the child is born. Whether women decide to keep working out of personal ambition or financial necessity, or whether they take a break and then start back in their careers as soon as their children are of school age, all will tend to find themselves handicapped by a woeful provision of childcare facilities or family-unfriendly practices in the workplace.

  It also appears that several young women have children when they really don’t want to: they don’t feel any great maternal instinct or desire to be mothers and yet they do so because it is still considered socially unacceptable to assert your right to be regarded as a ‘whole’ woman if you are not a mother.

  Although it would be wrong to assume the family has represented complete fulfilment for every woman in the past, it is probably safe to say that it is more acceptable to articulate this openly in modern times. Women want more because they want what men have: they want to be able to succeed in the same way and on the same terms but are rarely prepared to lose out on anything. I see two sides to this kind of ambition: one is affirmative of feminism in the sense that no woman should be stifled or held back simply because she is, by gender, a woman. The second side, though, is less affirmative because achievement of this ambition appears to depend on down-playing or even denying some of the gentler aspects of femininity. Compassion, tenderness, accommodation, sensitivity, inclusiveness and softness are examples of qualities that are downgraded, even repudiated, as if they are only associated with passivity and a failure to be equal, reminders of an old and downtrodden past that is best consigned to history programmes on television.

  So in these ‘we can have it all’ times, is the compassion trap still relevant? I think it may be.

  As you read through the list below, see if you can recognise yourself or other women (of any age) in these examples.

  Situations with strangers The patient who does not want to persist in bothering the over-worked nurses with a request for medication to relieve her own considerable pain; the customer who realises that others have been waiting a long time so she does not take the time to get what she really wants; the woman who doesn’t complain about a new haircut because she doesn’t want to make trouble for the trainee stylist.

  Situations with friends The woman who consistently makes excuses for a friend’s behaviour rather than mentioning it directly; who has sex with her boyfriend because he is turned on and she feels sorry for him; who is afraid to refuse a friend who wants to come and stay at a thoroughly inconvenient time, because she knows her friend has been recently divorced and needs someone to talk to; who feels guilty if she does not offer a lift to a friend because she is the only one with a car; who lies when asked directly by a friend for he
r opinion about the new shoes she’s just bought because she doesn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  Situations at home The woman who has sacrificed her whole career to look after her invalid parents; the wife who feels too guilty about leaving her disabled son to have an occasional day off because she feels she is the only one who must look after him; the daughter who does not like to tell her elderly father that he really should not drive any more as his sight is failing because she knows he will take it very badly; the working woman who feels guilty about not spending more time with her children so does not ask for the help that she needs at home; the woman who does not ask her tenant to pay rent arrears because he’s going through a tough time and she doesn’t want to make things worse.

  Situations at work The woman who will not move to a more rewarding and stimulating job because she is convinced that this would leave her team ‘in the lurch’; the doctor who keeps covering for colleagues who have ‘other commitments’; the young woman who tolerates her middle-aged manager treating her as if she were his daughter because she doesn’t want to disappoint him; the older woman who will stay late at the office, correcting the work of junior colleagues because they are young with busy social lives to lead; the assistant who will not tell her boss he has made a mistake because it might deflate his ego.

  How might our four characters respond to being caught in the compassion trap?

  The Compassion Trap and a Passive, Aggressive, Indirect and Assertive Response

  Dulcie’s nineteen-year-old student nephew asks her to lend him some money to go abroad. It means giving him some of her hard-earned savings intended for her own holiday but she feels sorry for him and a little sensitive about being considered selfish: after all, she only has herself to think of as she doesn’t have children of her own and so she gives it to him. She swallows her disappointment but feels a lot of resentment when he doesn’t even bother to thank her. Even his parents don’t show any real appreciation of her gesture!

  Agnes will often let her resentment build up to a tremendous outburst instead of appropriately saying ‘no’ beforehand. She eagerly takes up the cause of a less fortunate friend who needs her help to make an entrée into the world of her own business. She rushes around giving her advice, generously giving time and energy and suggestions, always being available when her friend phones. Somehow the friend never really expresses enough appreciation and Agnes begins to feel more and more used. Finally she erupts in fury, tells her friend in no uncertain terms what she thinks of her and then drops her like a hot brick.

  Ivy’s way of dealing with the compassion trap is similar to Agnes’s but her strategies tend to be more hidden and indirect. When her next-door neighbour’s husband walks out, Ivy feels very sympathetic and listens to endless post mortems and all the ins and outs of their previous married life together. But after a few weeks she becomes frustrated that the neighbour won’t do anything except moan. Ivy, unable to express her feelings directly, simply pretends not to be at home or, as soon as her friend appears, finds an excuse for going out.

  Selma sits through her last committee meeting having decided after a lot of consideration to resign from her position as chairperson. She feels that an awful lot of her time has been given to chairing meetings and she wants to conserve some of her energy and spend some time on things that are personally important to her. During the meeting, members plead with her not to go and ask if she can stay on for another few months: the committee’s falling apart and there’s nobody else who can immediately take her place. As Selma listens, she feels herself teetering. She finds herself in the midst of feelings that she ought to stay as she is needed and sympathy for her colleagues. Is she being selfish? Maybe she should just carry on for a few more months. Fortunately, she assertively maintains her decision. The others realise she is adamant and, with regret, have to accept. She leaves and is satisfied that she has done the right thing for herself.

  When you feel ‘sorry’ for someone, the interaction is always in danger of becoming unequal: there is a fine line between compassion – the real human quality – and the compassion trap. Being sensitive to others’ needs and feelings is an attribute traditionally associated with the female gender. Because this open-ness can become a trap, the only protection seems to be to shut off completely: to determinedly close your eyes and ears to someone else’s plight. When we do this, we risk becoming self-centred and ruthless as if the only way we can attain our own goals is by excluding any other consideration.

  In competitive activities like sports or business this is requisite behaviour: you must stay focussed on your goal and nothing else can matter. As I have written earlier, this aggressive response has spilled over into personal relationships as well. The key to retaining our compassion, without getting trapped in it, is what assertive behaviour can achieve. It is a balancing act and a difficult one but it can be done. It means examining a little more closely how we get into this trap. How do we fail to set limits when we need to and when is it the right time to do so?

  Setting limits Setting limits means calling a halt before you drop dead with exhaustion. Instead of waiting to the bitter end, you can look at ways in which you can ask for help, for support and for care from others. You can set limits on how you spend your time. You can give yourself time to rest, to replenish your energy. You can allow yourself to be vulnerable like everyone else. Your needs are not necessarily more important than anyone else’s needs – nor are they less important – just equally important. Letting go of the image of being a tower of strength gives everyone a chance to breathe a sigh of relief: you are seen to be human as well.

  If you have ever caught yourself sulking or resentful because someone wasn’t sufficiently grateful to you for efforts you have made for them, then you can count yourself as playing the role of martyr. Consider whether anyone can ever be appreciative enough. It is likely that when we play the martyr we expect some reward for all our devotion. Have you ever caught yourself secretly wounded or annoyed because someone did not notice the trouble you had taken or the sacrifice you made? Even in these more egotistical times, many women still fall into this trap.

  Setting limits also means looking to see whether you are taking your responsibilities too far. There is a fundamental difference between taking care of someone’s practical needs and someone’s emotional needs. Of course there are times in everyone’s life when they are practically dependent on another person’s care but if those limits are not recognised, then dependency slips into dangerous areas. Authentic care degenerates into compulsive care which usually entails subtle oppression. Oppression begins when you start assuming total responsibility for someone’s emotional needs as well; when you deny them equal rights of interaction or consultation; when you take other people’s decisions for them and organise their lives on their behalf because you assume they could not manage on their own.

  There are two complementary roles. If someone is to play the role of the inadequate, then the other person can play that of the powerful. Many women are reluctant to relinquish this power, especially if they do not feel powerful in any other area of their lives.

  As women take more and more power for themselves assertively, they are more and more willing to relinquish this strong manipulative power and claim real equality.

  I would like to finish this chapter by reminding readers that compassion is undeniably a wonderful human quality when it is freely chosen.

  Take two examples: one of Mandy’s incessant grumbles was that she felt obliged to have tea with her elderly Uncle Stan every Thursday. It cut into her day, she complained, it prevented her from making other arrangements and she felt it was an inescapable burden. Once she had explored other options instead of moaning about it – refusing his invitation, reducing the visits to once a month instead of once a week or asking a cousin to take over some of the visits – she finally decided that she was really very fond of her uncle and that he wasn’t going to live forever so she really wanted to continue her visits. Thi
s was her choice. The arrangement continued to give him pleasure at seeing her and to give her the pleasure of being able to brighten up his day.

  Molly’s life revolved around her work. She had convinced herself that listening to other people’s problems was a waste of time. She feared getting too entangled and that everything would end up eating into her precious time. She knew that one of her colleagues, Judith, had been going through a bad time since her husband had walked out on her but Molly kept right out of it, even when she saw Judith’s work deteriorating. One evening, she met Judith in the corridor on the way home and it was obvious she had been crying. Molly greeted her but walked straight on, as usual, but then hesitated and turned round: ‘Judith, look, you can say no if you want, but I’m going to stop for a drink at Mario’s on the way home. Do you fancy joining me for a quick glass of wine?’ Judith was slightly surprised but accepted and the two of them spent a good couple of hours talking together. Molly was pleasantly surprised to find that not only was it not a big deal but it meant there was much better energy between them in the office.

  If a woman feels compelled to put another’s needs before her own, compassion becomes sterile: if she makes a conscious choice, the rewards are rich.

  11

  Expressing Your Feelings

  We started to look at the relevance of expressing of feelings as an important aspect of our communication with the skill of self-disclosure. This chapter follows on from there. Handling feelings has always been integral to the model of assertiveness training that I’ve used, partly because this dimension has enormous potential to either distort and undermine our communication – even when we get the words right – or enrich and make it far more meaningful and effective.

  Self-disclosure requires you to put feelings into words, but first you need to learn to notice and acknowledge to yourself what is going on. This of course presupposes that you have some awareness of what you’re feeling which is often not the case. Most men and women are unfamiliar with the whole emotional realm and, as a consequence, feel very much at the mercy of their feelings. We approach our own and other people’s feelings with the same mixture of awe and apprehension with which, if we were cast out on to the ocean in a small sea-going vessel, we might view the rise and fall of the threatening waves around us. We have learned that there are currents to avoid and are watchful for imminent storm clouds on the horizon. Alert to some unexpected turbulence and drama, we are tense and vigilant. We know that ultimately we have no control. The best we can do is to guide our frail and inadequate craft over the water, often getting splashed and occasionally capsizing, and always immensely thankful for a period of calm.

 

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