Toxic Concern
People are great, you know? I mean, not everybody, but everybody I know personally is just salt of the earth. Just yummy people.
Once in a while, though, a great virtue becomes twisted into a vice. We're supposed to be involved with each other's lives. Elder Dallin H. Oaks describes this "interdependence" in an address given at a conference for mid-singles in Salt Lake City, and although it's very contextualized for people in a dating scene, the evidence exists that pure independence isn't actually the ideal: evidence from our understanding that we cannot be saved without our dead, to programs of ministering and humanitarian efforts locally and abroad. We're supposed to be concerned about others, and love our neighbors as we love ourselves (because in some abstract and metaphorical ways, they ARE us).
Concern for others is a virtue. Until it is not.
Contaminants can sour concern, can turn it into something not just hurtful, but harmful. And it's so easy to tell ourselves that we're being kind, and that this comes from a good place. And it did come from a good place, it just wandered a bit further from Jesus than we think it did.
I'm not the most humble receiver of concern. I'm a frankly terrible receiver of concern, because some people, good people, let it become toxic before they gave it to me. So I have some suggestions for keeping it fresh.
I'm almost sorry about the food metaphors, but I'm hungry, and I can't eat lunch until I've written this out.
When I was very young, I managed to attract some dangerous and illegal attention from stalkers. Fun times! My parents, employers, and law enforcement, in their concern, "protected" me from information about the perpetrators and the cases as they were prosecuted. By all means, be protective, but information could have been VERY, VERY useful in contextualizing my experience. They took their concern too far.
I lived with my sister for a while, and she expressed concern that I wasn't happy. I mean, I had depression and probably anxiety. It's how I roll. At first, she expressed concern, but then as time went on, she realized that she needed to be a little selfish - that her concern for me was masking a need to distance herself from my emotional problems. This is wisdom. Sometimes our concern for others is a way to hide from our own issues, and we shouldn't use other people that way. Using service to forget ourselves is one thing, but using concern to hide from our own weaknesses is folly and unkindness.
The worst kind of concern is the most common. I have experienced it more than once: it is when someone uses concern for others (and service) as a way to bolster their savior complex, or just to bolster their flagging self-esteem by feeling superior to someone. You can see it when someone comes home from feeding the homeless and expresses how grateful they are that they have made better life decisions than the idiots living in the shelter. Taking care of homeless people is an AMAZING way to feel better about yourself by judging others. They're easy targets.
Toxic concern needs the other person to be broken so you can fix them. It needs someone to be inferior and unworthy. Suicidal. A hot mess. You can see the results of toxic concern when people take credit for changing someone else's life, for saving it, for saving them. Conversely, you can spot toxic concern if you ever hear someone complaining that so-and-so is ungrateful. Are you really in it for the gratitude? That's on you, not them.
Concern is still good. It's important, and there is a cure if it goes toxic.
Repeat this mantra: "They're just like me."
Believe it. Then you'll be headed in a better direction, and in no time at all you'll be able to appreciate and even enjoy their differences, too. You'll find yourself surrounded by yummy people in all the flavors. Life is better this way. You might even find yourself enjoying random strangers on the bus.
Once in a while, though, a great virtue becomes twisted into a vice. We're supposed to be involved with each other's lives. Elder Dallin H. Oaks describes this "interdependence" in an address given at a conference for mid-singles in Salt Lake City, and although it's very contextualized for people in a dating scene, the evidence exists that pure independence isn't actually the ideal: evidence from our understanding that we cannot be saved without our dead, to programs of ministering and humanitarian efforts locally and abroad. We're supposed to be concerned about others, and love our neighbors as we love ourselves (because in some abstract and metaphorical ways, they ARE us).
Concern for others is a virtue. Until it is not.
Contaminants can sour concern, can turn it into something not just hurtful, but harmful. And it's so easy to tell ourselves that we're being kind, and that this comes from a good place. And it did come from a good place, it just wandered a bit further from Jesus than we think it did.
I'm not the most humble receiver of concern. I'm a frankly terrible receiver of concern, because some people, good people, let it become toxic before they gave it to me. So I have some suggestions for keeping it fresh.
I'm almost sorry about the food metaphors, but I'm hungry, and I can't eat lunch until I've written this out.
When I was very young, I managed to attract some dangerous and illegal attention from stalkers. Fun times! My parents, employers, and law enforcement, in their concern, "protected" me from information about the perpetrators and the cases as they were prosecuted. By all means, be protective, but information could have been VERY, VERY useful in contextualizing my experience. They took their concern too far.
I lived with my sister for a while, and she expressed concern that I wasn't happy. I mean, I had depression and probably anxiety. It's how I roll. At first, she expressed concern, but then as time went on, she realized that she needed to be a little selfish - that her concern for me was masking a need to distance herself from my emotional problems. This is wisdom. Sometimes our concern for others is a way to hide from our own issues, and we shouldn't use other people that way. Using service to forget ourselves is one thing, but using concern to hide from our own weaknesses is folly and unkindness.
The worst kind of concern is the most common. I have experienced it more than once: it is when someone uses concern for others (and service) as a way to bolster their savior complex, or just to bolster their flagging self-esteem by feeling superior to someone. You can see it when someone comes home from feeding the homeless and expresses how grateful they are that they have made better life decisions than the idiots living in the shelter. Taking care of homeless people is an AMAZING way to feel better about yourself by judging others. They're easy targets.
Toxic concern needs the other person to be broken so you can fix them. It needs someone to be inferior and unworthy. Suicidal. A hot mess. You can see the results of toxic concern when people take credit for changing someone else's life, for saving it, for saving them. Conversely, you can spot toxic concern if you ever hear someone complaining that so-and-so is ungrateful. Are you really in it for the gratitude? That's on you, not them.
Concern is still good. It's important, and there is a cure if it goes toxic.
Repeat this mantra: "They're just like me."
Believe it. Then you'll be headed in a better direction, and in no time at all you'll be able to appreciate and even enjoy their differences, too. You'll find yourself surrounded by yummy people in all the flavors. Life is better this way. You might even find yourself enjoying random strangers on the bus.
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