Kathy: I’ve got an idea for a blog. People keep asking how you do what you do… How they can connect like you do, help people like you do. How about we write about that?

Ron: You’re kidding, right? 

Kathy: Nope! You could talk about a conversation you’ve had and give us a behind-the-scenes view of what was going on in your head. Somebody from your last trip, maybe. 

Ron: (Thinks a minute.) Okay, I’ve got one. Let’s call her Amy. I’d never met Amy, so when she flopped down across from me in the campus cafeteria, I wasn’t expecting green hair, multiple tattoos, and piercings. And I especially wasn’t expecting a scowl that said, “@#%*!.” 

I Want to Help Someone. Where Do I Start?

Kathy: What was your first thought?

Ron: Help!

Kathy: Be serious! Tell me something useful.

Ron: I just did. Whenever I meet with someone, I start with two things: self-awareness and fig leaves.

Kathy: Ummm… fig leaves? 

Ron: Metaphorical fig leaves. I get that image from the Jewish creation story. After eating the forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve felt fear, shame and guilt. They used fig leaves to cover themselves, to hide behind. We hide behind things, too. I call those things our fig leaves. Things like appearances, popularity, intelligence, competence, being nice or funny. All good things in and of themselves. But when we use them to hide our vulnerability and earn our worth and approval, they become prisons. Hindrances to the freedom and life we long to live.

Kathy: So you started by trying to figure out what Amy’s fig leaves were. 

Ron: No! I started with self-awareness…with identifying my own fig leaves.

Kathy: But aren’t we supposed to focus on the other person?

Ron: Sure, but that comes later. We need to be aware of our own fig leaves first. If we aren’t, there’s a real danger that they’ll keep us from connecting with people. For instance, if your fig leaf is making sure you aren’t seen as incompetent, you’ll be more preoccupied with fixing and impressing people than in truly connecting with them. Ever have someone try to fix you? 

Kathy: Absolutely, and it’s not fun! But how do we figure out what our fig leaves are?

Ron: Great question. That’s where self-awareness comes in. Thing is, fig leaves start by protecting us, but they have a way of becoming prison walls—and we’re not even aware it’s happened. Our strong emotions point to them: anxiety, drivenness, fear, pressure, defensiveness. They’re signals that our fig leaves are being challenged or have failed us. 

How Does Self-Awareness Help?

Kathy: Back to our green-haired friend. How did self-awareness help you?

Ron: Everything about Amy told me to stay the heck away or else. I felt a bit intimidated by her.    I took time for a two-second check in. “My anxiety is telling me I’m basing my worth and significance on how well this conversation goes. On trying to validate my worth by proving myself, impressing her with my ability to help her. No wonder I’m feeling anxious. She’s not the source or measure of my worth. I have no control over how this conversation is going to go down. But I do have control over whether I’m going to choose to impress her or love her. Whether or not I’m going to give her what is most true about myself. That’s what I want this moment to be about. Caring for her.”

As Amy talked about friends who’d been abused, I was surprised by the tenderness in her voice. It didn’t fit with the tough image she projected. “These girls are lucky to have a friend like you,” I said.

Kathy: What a lovely thing to say.

Ron: My True Self was showing up. The image of Amy imprisoned and not knowing it stirred affection and empathy in me for her. It was love that moved me to celebrate the good I saw. Love also made me want to help her become aware of her walls—and of why she’d chosen to lock herself up in them.

Kathy: Your affirmation must have made her smile.

Ron: Quite the contrary. Her lips pressed into a hard line and she shifted her gaze into her lap. But her reaction let me know I’d hit a nerve. Rather than enjoy her goodness, she seemed to be fighting it, so I attempted to put words to the battle I saw in her. “It’s hard to admit how much you care for someone and hope for their situation to improve, huh?”

“F***ing right,” she said. “That’s my goal. To never hope.” 

“Because if you never hope, you can’t be disappointed?” 

“Exactly.”

“But without hope, you wouldn’t be here talking about your friends. You hope for better for them. Do you really want to shut that down? Where did you learn that love could be so dangerous?”

Her gaze slid off to the side, as she thought about her answer.

“My boyfriend cheated on me. I don’t see any of our friends anymore or go to the places we went to together. It hurts too much.”

“That’s a lot of power to give to a creep.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“By staying away from the people and places you love, you give him the power to keep hurting you over and over again. Do you really want to let him do that to you?”

Silence…then tears began to flow. 

“So that’s why I’ve been such a bitch with my mom… She was trying to give me hope…”

(The reality of the impact of her fig leaf—on herself and her mother—was sinking in.)

“Your tears are beautiful…proof of a good heart in you, your True Self rising up. One that wants to love instead of staying stuck in bitterness and self-protection.” 

“I don’t want to be like the people who hurt me. I want to help my friends.” 

“Of course you do. And there’s the beauty of your True Self. You’re willing to be hurt in order to love.” 

Kathy: Great story!

Ron: And one that’s far from over. But had I not been self-aware, my own fig leaf would have made me focus on being competent and careful, not caring. My fear of her would have pushed me to protect myself instead of loving her. I would have missed out on the joy of love.

The End (for now!)