"My Brain Made Me Do It"

Years ago when my eighteen year old nephew was four, he made a comment as children do that’s stayed with me over time. Having gotten into trouble for doing something to one of his older brothers he said, “It’s not my fault, Aunt Dawn. My brain made me do it.”

In retrospect I wish I had not found this so endearing but had awkwardly yet lovingly stumbled about in an attempt to help him find the best words to explain what his brain was thinking as well as help him see how his thoughts, feelings and actions were connected. That conversation might have eventually gotten us to his being mad that things weren’t fair and that he took it out on his brother because he was ultimately sad about not getting attention or scared about possibly being forgotten. Like all of us at times, I suspect his feeling vulnerable yet not knowing how to put this into words prompted him to attack and lash out. For a time or at least until he was caught, he temporarily felt better or in control while not having to feel uncomfortable feelings.

In turn I allowed my fear of saying the wrong thing (personally feeling vulnerable and not wanting to sound stupid even to a four year old) to keep me from engaging my brain and talking with him or just simply asking him to tell me more.

I’ve thought of his comment a lot recently. There’s something so valuable in his honesty. Even though he was assigning blame for what he did, at least he was blaming a part of himself rather than another person or group of people as is common today.

It's ironic that we live in what’s called an ownership society yet we do not for the most part own the uncomfortable stuff of our insides. We do just the opposite. We disown our fears and anxieties by projecting them onto others. As a result there are people like the man who made the news months ago for his hate-filled facebook rant about gay people. How many homophobic men bully and taunt because they themselves quietly disown their own fear of being gay or the fear their child is which would break their hearts and challenge their belief systems?

We not only disown our feelings but we disown our actions and say someone else is at fault as happened a year ago and continues still with the BP oil spill in the Gulf or last Fall when KY Senator Rand Paul‘s campaign worker stepped on the head of a woman who had been shoved to the ground. He not only blamed his behavior on the absence of police but added in an on air interview that he felt he needed an apology from the woman.

January’s Tucson shooting is a more recent example of our being challenged as a society and individuals to take even the slightest degree of ownership for the words we choose, the intent behind them and their potential contribution to cumulative violence in the greater collective. None of the people who had previously used gun-related terminology in political references to their opponents stepped forward to even slightly suggest that maybe they could have chosen phrases and images other than gun-related ones. Even more disturbing were those using gun-related rhetoric were women, the gender that’s supposed to be more relational and internally connected. (Please correct me if I missed anyone who came forward and said they regret having used this type of rhetoric.)

How is it that we’ve become so disconnected from our insides? Corporate America has made billions trying to keep us focused on the outside, how we look, what we own, what we live in and drive. They’ve made billions more trying to keep us disconnected from our insides, our fears, our sorrow, the sources of tension or distress. Through billboards and ads we’re encouraged to overeat, drink, drug, shop and partake in a myriad of compulsive behaviors keeping us from our within. We venture into our hearts during the holidays and even that benefits corporate America if we shop as they advertise.

How is it that we’ve gotten to a place where “It’s not my fault” has become the mantra of so many? What’s happened to accountability? How is it that we as adults can’t even find it within ourselves to say like my nephew, “My brain/my desire for power/ my fear of losing power/my fear of losing money/my fear of dying/my fear of strangers, Socialists, Muslims (fill in your bad guy or fear here) made me do it”?

Until we’re willing to look inside at the connection between our hearts and minds, our vulnerability and our actions and develop the capacity to ‘hold’ the tension of opposites created by conflicting thoughts and feelings, we’ll continue to cycle through the latest version of “It’s not my fault.”

Months ago during a flight, I heard a young woman say she didn’t have any obligations. She was referring to her present job allowing her flexibility so she could travel to different cities to determine where she ultimately wanted to live. I began to consider what my obligations really are. I’ve bills to pay and a handful of people in my life to whom I owe showing up, but the more I thought of it the more I realized my greatest obligation is to myself, to not ignore my insides and to show up with integrity in relation to my own thoughts, feelings and actions first and foremost.

As Nevada’s Sharon Angle said last election it’s time to man-up. It’s time we man-up and woman-up in order to wake up, to step up to the plate, home base within each of ourselves and own the stuff of our insides.

That said, I close knowing it’s time to “Aunt-Up”to my nephew.

Christian, I asked for your permission Thanksgiving, yes, over three months ago, if I could use a story from your childhood in one of my writings. You eagerly and easily said, ‘Yes’ and that you'd read it when it was complete. This is that story. I did not forget it. I procrastinated. I guess you could say “my brain made me do it” because I got scared. I got scared that someone would judge me thus I allowed my fear to stop me….until now. I’ve known I was not keeping my word to you and more importantly I wasn’t keeping my word with myself, my word being my commitment to write what I want to express regardless of how it’s received. My heart is unafraid, but similar to what you said at four- my brain made me do it.

In the earlier example from years ago, I referenced wishing I had engaged my brain. The greater truth is I wish I had engaged my heart even if that meant I fumbled for words or my eyes filled with tears. My brain forgets what my heart always knows.

Vulnerability is a gift, it is powerful to stand in what we feel and know at a heart level not knowing how we will be received only knowing we must send and see. So for now I send this out to you and any who read it hoping that it contributes to a greater awareness of how we are connected within ourselves and between one another.

-Dawn aka Aunt Dawn, The Good News Muse, 6 March 2011