Keeping YOUR Peace

“if you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family” - Ram Dass

I remember laughing in relief the first time I heard this. I was just returning home from a holiday spent with my mom and three sisters. After months spent practicing yoga, daily meditations and doing deep inner work, five days with my family had me unraveling at the seams. 

Our families are our first experience with connection and usually our most intimate and long-standing. Impressionable and vulnerable, we enter the world learning from those around us, developing a sense of self and our place in it. While this closeness is often our greatest source of love, it can also expose us to a greater capacity for wounding. Those nearest to our heart can hurt it the most. 

Two years later, I find myself coming back to this quote, still laughing. Quarantine has allowed me the freedom to spend more time with family, outside of the perfunctory Christmas or Thanksgiving whirlwind visit. An exposure-therapy of sorts. I like to believe I’ve done a fair amount of ‘self-work’ but if the past two weeks have taught me anything, it’s that if enlightenment is what I seek, I have a long way to go. 

The first few days were lovely. Everyone was on their ‘best behavior,’ my sisters all getting along, and my father expressing his joy to have us there openly and often. He has always been highly reactive and a planner to a fault, any disruption or item out of place setting him off. On the way to the beach one summer vacation, I forgot my bathing suit at home. I realized it 15 minutes after we had left and proceeded to hear about my selfishness and the virtue of responsibility for the remaining two-hour car ride and was grounded for two days. I was nine. For once, it was nice to see him so relaxed. 

During the day he worked from home, pacing loudly from room to room as he took calls that regularly ended with him huffing some frustration under his breath. At about 3:00, he’d pour a glass of white wine and return to his study where he’d work from his computer in silence. Around 4:30, his wife would return from the office and dive right into the kindle while he prepared dinner. At 6:00 promptly, we’d all sit down to eat. This was their routine, and they did not deviate from it.

By the fourth day, I was losing my mind. Every single day, the same thing...like groundhogs day, the only discernible difference was on our plate each evening. Our conversations revolved around the news, or something they’d heard recently about a co-worker/ friend/ family member. Dinner was followed by a quick dip in the pool, Fox news and lights out by 9 p.m. It started to make sense why such seemingly small things would send them into a mental tailspin. 

Day five things took a turn. At around 6 a.m., I was awoken by dishes clamoring and cabinet doors slamming. I got up to find my dad in the kitchen, his face red, fuming. Apparently, someone had left a bag of popcorn on the counter the night before. 

“Yesterday, I found TWO empty water bottles outside! Like a pigsty!!”

He slammed the dishwasher closed with a force that would make you think that someone had vandalized the place.

Puzzled and skeptical that this was the real source of his anger, I assured him that I’d finish cleaning the kitchen and inquired a little further. 

“How can I help you, Dad?”

“You can’t!” he barked back, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“Okay. What’s going on?”

He lifted his head, unamused. 

‘Quit it with that head shrinking shit, would you?’ he snapped, returning to his office and slamming the door.

In the world of therapy, whenever there is a disproportionate reaction to a stimulus or event it is indicative of a personal trigger or wound. I know this now, but as children we don’t. As a child, I would have focused on the popcorn, likely followed by a lecture for being irresponsible or messy. I would have internalized his anger personally, spending the afternoon guilt-ridden. As an adult, I recognize that it’s not about the bag of popcorn, water bottles, or me at all. 

It’s usually not. Why is this concept so much easier to grasp with friends, colleagues, and acquaintances? Our families possess the historical record of every insecurity and vulnerability we’ve ever experienced, like a switchboard to every button that can trigger us right back to our childhood selves. And as children, we didn’t have the comprehension to understand the complexities of projection, the language skills to communicate our hurt, or the faculties to look beyond ourselves. Misunderstandings would result with tears, a tantrum, or shouting, often left unreconciled. And we wonder why so many holiday gatherings are punctuated with at least one family meltdown. 

The day continued much like it started. When attacks became personal, I’d try to enlist more compassion, patience, and understanding. When I felt myself becoming reactionary, I’d go for a walk or meditate. I was on vacation and had the time and freedom to do so. Not everyone has this luxury. Especially when homebound, juggling a full-time job, kids, the demands of running a household, and all of the changes and new stresses that we’re all navigating right now.

Be gentle with yourself. Celebrate the little wins. Give yourself permission to make mistakes and apologize when you do. Everyone is dealing with their own things, in their own ways. When we allow others to disrupt our peace by becoming reactive, we give our power away. In the very wise words of Viktor Frankl,

 “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

To freedom, growth, and endless happiness....And a very Happy 4th of July! x