I've put stop signs everywhere. The stop sign in my lungs gave me asthma. The stop sign in my eyes stopped my tears. The stop sign in my writing gave my projects abrupt endings. The stop sign in my heart almost killed me. My bank account is holding a stop sign keeping too much money from coming in. As a crossing guard, I hold up a stop sign for a living.
With all these stop signs, I have built a dam. Over the years I've kept strict regulations on that dam, letting out only enough water for a small river below. A little community has been built around this river, and I can feel good about my regulations, feeling like I'm keeping the people safe, and giving them a home where they would not have been able to build before.
But with all this stagnant water in this dam, I've felt a little suffocated sometimes, I've resented the people in the community below. I've tried pushing more water out to widen the river just a little (the people would probably like that), but those stop sign regulations are so firmly in place, I don't know how to change them.
And then...
Just yesterday, I looked at all that water in the dam. It is stagnating. It is languishing. I have so much water and no one is using it. So instead of keeping the dam intact and changing how it's regulated, the dam is coming down. I'm breaking it.
What about the people below? Won't they die? Won't their homes be destroyed? What about the children?
Well, it turns out the people in that community regularly climb to the top of the dam and shake their heads at the amount of water held back while they are only getting a small portion. They have been hoping the dam would break for years now, in fact, they have been expecting it. I just didn't know this until yesterday.
I can explain how I know this through another story.
Several years ago, my grandma died.
Because of the stop sign in my eyes, I cried for a minute or two when I heard the news and that was the end of my tears. I loved my grandma, and I traveled far to be at her funeral. When I arrived at the memorial service with several of my brothers, my aunt, whom I hadn't seen for a few years, hugged me upon greeting. I expected the hug. What I didn't expect was the length of the hug. She hugged me for several long minutes which were not unpleasant. What I also didn't expect was that when she let go, her face, which had previously been smiling, was now wet and twisted with tears. I felt good being a part of her emotional release, even though I didn't have one to share with her.
One more story and I will make my point.
Two days ago, I was walking with a friend. This friend was glowing with happiness from her weekend with her family. She was so joyful that I hugged her, and when I let go, she was crying.
Yesterday I put the two stories together, and realized I had a super-power. I can make people cry by hugging them.
The more I thought about this, the more amazed I became by it. I can make other people cry, but I can't make myself cry. Why can't I cry? People always assume I'm crying anyway. Strangers hug me and talk tenderly to me, or ask me for inappropriate favors ("Will you call my boss and tell her I quit?"). Somehow all the tears are stopped at my eyes. I don't feel them, and they don't come out, but people know they are there.
That is the amazing part: people know there is a dam full of water just waiting to burst. I had been stopping everything and damming it up, to hide what I considered weakness, but everyone knows and feels it anyway. All these years, I haven't fooled anyone but myself.
It's time to break that dam. I'm tearing those stop signs down.
With all these stop signs, I have built a dam. Over the years I've kept strict regulations on that dam, letting out only enough water for a small river below. A little community has been built around this river, and I can feel good about my regulations, feeling like I'm keeping the people safe, and giving them a home where they would not have been able to build before.
But with all this stagnant water in this dam, I've felt a little suffocated sometimes, I've resented the people in the community below. I've tried pushing more water out to widen the river just a little (the people would probably like that), but those stop sign regulations are so firmly in place, I don't know how to change them.
And then...
Just yesterday, I looked at all that water in the dam. It is stagnating. It is languishing. I have so much water and no one is using it. So instead of keeping the dam intact and changing how it's regulated, the dam is coming down. I'm breaking it.
What about the people below? Won't they die? Won't their homes be destroyed? What about the children?
Well, it turns out the people in that community regularly climb to the top of the dam and shake their heads at the amount of water held back while they are only getting a small portion. They have been hoping the dam would break for years now, in fact, they have been expecting it. I just didn't know this until yesterday.
I can explain how I know this through another story.
Several years ago, my grandma died.
Because of the stop sign in my eyes, I cried for a minute or two when I heard the news and that was the end of my tears. I loved my grandma, and I traveled far to be at her funeral. When I arrived at the memorial service with several of my brothers, my aunt, whom I hadn't seen for a few years, hugged me upon greeting. I expected the hug. What I didn't expect was the length of the hug. She hugged me for several long minutes which were not unpleasant. What I also didn't expect was that when she let go, her face, which had previously been smiling, was now wet and twisted with tears. I felt good being a part of her emotional release, even though I didn't have one to share with her.
One more story and I will make my point.
Two days ago, I was walking with a friend. This friend was glowing with happiness from her weekend with her family. She was so joyful that I hugged her, and when I let go, she was crying.
Yesterday I put the two stories together, and realized I had a super-power. I can make people cry by hugging them.
The more I thought about this, the more amazed I became by it. I can make other people cry, but I can't make myself cry. Why can't I cry? People always assume I'm crying anyway. Strangers hug me and talk tenderly to me, or ask me for inappropriate favors ("Will you call my boss and tell her I quit?"). Somehow all the tears are stopped at my eyes. I don't feel them, and they don't come out, but people know they are there.
That is the amazing part: people know there is a dam full of water just waiting to burst. I had been stopping everything and damming it up, to hide what I considered weakness, but everyone knows and feels it anyway. All these years, I haven't fooled anyone but myself.
It's time to break that dam. I'm tearing those stop signs down.