“The ability to understand and share the feelings of another.” That’s the dictionary’s simple explanation of empathy.
I’m an adoptive parent and have counseled adoptive parents for many years. The most effective tool in my toolbox is to introduce, usually reintroduce, parents to empathy. I listen carefully to their moans and groans about the bad behavior of their adopted child, and then I say, “I’ve heard your side of the situation, now tell me what your child is thinking, why is he the way he is, what is he afraid of”. There is often stunned silence. The parent is forced to shift his thinking to his child’s. The more he does that, the less frustration he feels, as he has just described how his child feels and what prompted the bad behavior. The relief the parent feels is physically noticeable. He relaxes as he has solved his own problem, the logic behind the behavior. Now he can do something about it intelligently.
I say to parents over and over, “Get inside your child’s head”. In any situation, this mental exercise can shift someone’s perspective and force them to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. It’s powerful.
Years ago, a friend of mine asked me to join a Searchers Group. She wanted to create a support group of adults that included all three sides of the adoption triad – adoptee, adoptive parents, and birth parents. I said, “No way”. It turned out all adoptive parents who were asked to join said the same thing, since that would involve facing a fairly universal fear – that their adopted child, once an adult, might seek out his birth parents and choose them as family.
My friend is an adoptee and could not understand that way of thinking. I finally said yes to help her out. I was also curious about who would be part of this group and what their motives might be for potentially disrupting established family dynamics. Adoptive parents work overtime to create a loving, cohesive family. Belonging comes naturally to birth families, but it is not built into an adoptive family.
What I learned in this group stunned me. I had been looking at adoption from my side of the fence, walking in my own shoes. I learned the participants were not out to destroy adoptive families. They just needed answers. Birth parents wanted to know if their child was okay, and adoptees wanted to know who their birth parents were. No one wanted to destroy a good thing, an already loving family. They were seeking information, and more importantly, closure.
I spent several years attending these meetings, and in all that time, I was the only adoptive parent. The group of 30 consisted of adoptees, birth parents, and me. I didn’t dare miss a meeting in all that time because I was the only voice for adoptive parents. I could explain why we think the way we do and why we work so hard to create a sense of love, security, and foreverness. I introduced thoughts and feelings that the others had not realized were natural to adoptive parents. This helped them better understand their own adoptive family. They were appreciative and, like me, surprised by adoptive parents’ feelings—empathy in action.
We can, at times, forget empathy. I was reminded to go that route by my adopted son some years ago. It was Christmas Day, and we had a houseful of people to entertain and feed. My mother arrived late after visiting her older sister in a nursing home. My mother was in a bad mood, not in the Christmas spirit at all, and did not want to join the festivities, so I went into a back room with her, and my son followed. I felt resentful that she was spoiling my Christmas. My son offered to take her home, and she readily accepted. I thanked him when he returned, and I probably made a somewhat unkind remark about the situation. My son turned to me and said, “Mom, Grandma is just scared she’ll end up in a nursing home, too.” His comment jolted me. My anger disappeared, and empathy took its place. I went to the phone, called my mother, and kindly asked if she was all right.
My 19-year-old son had climbed over the fence and walked in her shoes.
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