Helplessly Hoping

Sitting on a crowded train I found myself eavesdropping despite my best attempts to stay focused on the work notes I was reviewing. It was one of those rides when everyone on the train seems too big for their seats, and I have to make a conscious effort not to succumb to feeling squished by the taller and broader people around me.

So there I was, truly trying to keep to myself. But energy and people kept brushing up against me, and I was gradually drawn in by the young man next to me, and the young woman on the other side of him, who were deep in a "difficult conversation". It was about a misunderstanding related to crossing the street, or not crossing the street, it wasn’t clear. Though I didn’t hear the context of the street crossing fiasco, I heard their soft voices, trying to stay calm and not get angry or disrespectful with each other. And I could hear a few choice tidbits. He: “I never said that. You’re twisting my words.” She: “You’re not letting me finish.” Both: “You see what you just did there?” But all the time, quietly, taking great pains to sound calm.

Though they both kept the conversation as private as possible, I couldn't help but overhear how stuck they were and how they both longed to be heard by the other. When I glanced over at them and saw their still shiny wedding bands, and the gentle, almost timid way they tried to stay physically connected through their conflict, my heart ached for them.

The sadness seeping into their voices was palpable, both of them trying so hard to fix this, and each of them so sure they were right and their beloved was wrong. It was all I could do not to jump in and coach them on how to use “I” messages. I wanted desperately to give them strategies for owning their emotional response and asking for what they want, knowing how hard it is to use these strategies myself, when I feel sad or stuck.

But this young couple was not family. They were not friends, not even neighbors. And somehow stepping in to help strangers with emotional wounds is not the same as coming to the aid of a stranger who needs physical help. So I kept my own counsel, and found myself feeling quietly helpless. A feeling I never like.

And then it dawned on me that maybe it wasn’t entirely to help them that I wanted to intervene. Maybe underneath all that good will it was for me, so that I didn’t have to feel so helpless. And taking care of my emotional needs was the last thing these two people needed at that moment.

I live in a big, often anonymous city, where any one of us may be exposed at any time to private conversations in public, and to the needs and challenges of strangers. Maybe sometimes the best thing I can do to help is to smile encouragingly, and send lots of positive, open-hearted energy their way. And to learn to live with my own feelings of helplessness when there really is nothing I can do to help.

Video images courtesy of Shutterstock and WallpaperAccess. Music courtesy of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

Originally posted April 2015 under Metropolis ©The Leadership Program tlpnyc.com