The hypocrite...

I was standing in the kitchen working on emptying the dishwasher so that I could wash the dishes that have been in the sink for two days when I spotted my neighbor walk out into her yard.  Again, I wanted to just hide inside, but I didn't.  I forced myself to go outside and see if she wanted to talk.

She did.
I listened.

Does that make me a hypocrite?  Seriously, I am asking.  Because I didn't want to listen.  Given what I have bene learning in my deep and thoughtful (and slow) study of Dr. Brown's research on shame, I understand the power of listening and I know one of the barriers to empathy is judging.  I am not unaware of my own judgment toward my neighbor.  I've listened to her ask the same advice for over five years and for over five years I've watched her ignore it.  I struggle with empathy for anyone who is wallowing and, boy, is she wallowing.

She is so angry at her husband dying, eight years later, that I am often frightened by her anger.  I listen, though, if that's what she wants to talk about.  She is so ... paralyzed over his death that she just cannot handle what needs to be handled.  Sometimes I walk her through things.  Other times I just watch her fail to do what needs to be done and then listen when she bewails her failure.

I know that I listen because I want someone to listen to me.  I know that I listen because the good little evangelical in me commands me to serve my neighbor.  I know that I listen because she literally has no one else.  But I also know that I don't want to listen.  And I know that when she gets angry with me over some perceived perfidy I am ... now ... thankful for the reprieve in having to engage with her.

One of the things that bothered me about the counselor is that she kept ridiculing me, in small taunts, about how slowly I was reading the book.  I am studying it and trying to learn shame resilience.  I honestly believe that this is the second most important book I've ever read ... wait, actually, it is tied for the most important book with The Courage to Heal.  I am learning and I am changing ... me ... the person who doubted change was possible.  So, I don't care, honestly, if anyone thinks I'm reading I Thought It Was Just Me [But It Wasn't] too slowly.  I am learning.  That is enough.

When I realized how important the book was going to be to me, as I have written before, I started taking comprehensive notes from the beginning.  I read, highlight, sticky note, take notes, and then special sticky note the chapters.  So, I am reading through each chapter five times ... but really it has been more.  And that is okay with me.  It is absolutely okay that I am only in chapter six.  After all, given that chapter six is about speaking shame, I am ahead of the game because I have started doing that based on what I have learned in the earlier chapters.

Still, I do think about what Dr. Brown shares about empathy and, with my neighbor, if I am not feeling the monster, I am feeling the hypocrite.  I wouldn't be sorry if she sold her house.  At all.  Well, maybe if it were for a difficult reason.  But I would be relieved.  Awash is abject relief.

I walked outside and listened.
Forced myself because I absolutely didn't want to do so.
Am I a hypocrite?