February 17.19 (yesterday cont’d)

I’ve been thinking about “me too,” and how it is used. The photo of Emmy in yesterday’s post helped me with my thinking. “Me too” had come to suggest pretense to me, pretending someone else’s shoes fit.

Don’t get me wrong: in no way am I disparaging the MeToo movement, whose voices have given the strength of the many to the one. As depressing (if unsurprising) as MeToo truth has been, it has also been affirming; the one person who comes forward now has the voice of the many behind her or him.

But if you tell me about a worry or fear or grief you have, and I respond “me too” or some variation of it, aren’t I slamming a door on you? Dismissing you and changing the subject to me? Aren’t I saying “enough about you”?

Once I was talking to a dear friend about a problem in my life. She responded, “I can’t even imagine.” It was the most supportive thing she could have said. If she had said “me too,” she wouldn’t have helped at all; she would only have been pretending to walk in my shoes, pushing me out of them.

When is “me too” genuine empathy, and when is it just upstaging?

And that, dear reader, is how yesterday’s post came to be.

 

 

 

 

February 16.19

 

Life Lesson #Umpteen from The School of Emmy

 

To walk in someone else’s shoes

is often our intent

but when we say “me too”

“not you” is what we meant.

“Me too” implies I’ve worn your shoes

and walked a mile therein

but I never have and never will

I don’t live in your skin.

“Me too” springs all too easy

from lips of listener

who doesn’t want to listen

but be the raconteur.

Emmy begs to show us

sometimes we must admit

“me too” is incommodious:

the other’s shoes don’t fit.

 

 

Thanks to photographer Patrick Mesterharm

and, of course, to Emmy.

“Me too” has been on my mind and I’m grateful to Emmy for her insights.

More in another post.