Empathy for Big Al

Have you ever wanted to start over? Taking an eraser to conversations or memories like we do with our middle school papers can often seem appealing. We ask ourselves "Why did I say that? Why did I do that? Will I ever recover from that mistake or embarrassing moment?" It's happened on more than one occasion that I've listened to Brandi Carlile's song, Hard Way Home, and nodded my head in agreement as her alto voice declares, "I'll tell you how I want to live: forget about the take, forget about the give. I want to leave this town! Fake my death and never be found!" The reasons for why we can feel this way can float on a spectrum of silly moments that make us turn red and sweat bullets to heartbreaking or infuriating circumstances when we hurt or are hurt by someone. Lately, I've noticed a pattern in my personal experience with this feeling and it's tied to being misunderstood.

There are few worse feelings, in my opinion, than that of being misunderstood.

I remember hugging my dad's legs one Saturday after he had agreed to take us over to my best friend's house for a play date. I was around 7 years old and we had spent the bulk of that morning getting work done around the house and yard. As I hugged him I looked up and said, "Thank you, daddy, for letting us do at least one fun thing today!" Although worded poorly and tinged with what would appear to be some snark, I genuinely meant it and was so grateful that I was going to get to go see my best friend! But he, unfortunately, misunderstood me, and responded with, "You kids can act like such brats." before finishing his glass of water and walking off to get the car keys. I had meant to let my dad know that his decision to take my sisters and I to see our friends meant the world, and instead I earned the title of a selfish, spoiled, kid.

The frustrating thing about being misunderstood is that, once it's happened, your efforts to correct the mistake only make things worse. When we advance with protests, denial, or explanations, a wall goes up, and all good feelings or hope for reconciliation or clarity become impossible. It was after a phone call with an acquaintance had gone in the opposite direction I desired that I began to wonder why I hated the miscommunication so much. Like I said, we were acquaintances. Not only that, but we didn't even live within an hours radius of one another, so odds of future interaction were unlikely unless pursued.

So why did I feel sick in my stomach? I think it's because I wanted to do something good, but instead, it came off as negative, bad, and SCARY.

One of my favorite books growing up was about a sweet fish named Big Al. You've never met a finer finned friend, but he, unfortunately, didn't have any friends. The issue wasn't his heart or manners or social skills. Big Al would even go out of his way to introduce himself and be extra sweet with sugar on top, but there was a problem that he couldn't help - and that was every other little fish's perception of him. You see, from before the time Big Al even opened his mouth to say a bubbly hello, the other fish had already formed an opinion of him. He was just too scary.

Lately, I've felt a huge amount of empathy for Big Al. Not necessarily because my physical appearance frightens people (unless they catch me on a 4am potty break with the puppy), but because I have, like Big Al, put myself out there, been vulnerable, with only the best intentions, and people have been scared off. Vulnerable in what way? I have a gift. In some ways it's a secret gift, but I want to share it with people. This gift means a great deal to me because it has changed my life and my family's life. Yes, I am talking about my MULTI-LEVEL MARKET! The pyramid scheme, the vehicle through which I push a product relentlessly, and my sneaky, deceptive excuse to wiggle my way into people's homes in order to disrupt their daily routine for my own personal benefit.

The unfortunate reality for Big Al was that he should, based off appearances, be the kind of fish you would want to swim away from. He had the earmarks of a very dangerous creature. Large teeth, scary yellow eyes, and he was pretty big in size. Better be safe than sorry, right?

I get it, really I do. A person you hardly know calls you up and introduces you to something that, from all your former personal experiences, has been very bad and scary. They say it's great. They say it's promising. They say that they are sharing it with you for YOUR benefit and not their own...but you're not even friends? Why do they care?

My favorite thing about the book is that one day, Big Al got the chance to prove himself. Unfortunately, the opportunity only came about because several fish, many of whom had formerly swam away from him in fear, found themselves trapped. An enormous net that they unknowingly wandered straight into held them captive, and they had no way of escaping it to live freely in the enormous ocean they called home. When Big Al found them, the little fish weren't relieved, they were even more terrified! He opened his enormous mouth and showed his sharp, scary teeth. The little fish cringed and then 'snap'! Were they dead? No, the net was broken and they were free!

I'm proud of Big Al - not so much because he helped the little fish who misunderstood him - that's just the decent thing to do. But more because he never stopped trying to make friends, no matter how hard it was to be vulnerable after being rejected.

To be honest, after I hung up the phone from my incredibly awkward conversation with said acquaintance, I wanted to hit my head against a wall and change my hair color and name. But I learned a lesson from Big Al that I think rectifies any misunderstanding no matter how awkward or unsettling it is - you can be a friend and a servant whether people accept you or not! And if you know your intentions are good and your heart is in the right place, does it really matter if you're scary or ugly?

So I've decided to just keep swimming and eventually, I know, I will make some lifelong friends.

P.S. If something smells fishy, I promise it isn't me!