Your Brain is Not Your Fault

The year I graduated college, my sister had her first child. Luckily, I went to grad school in Baltimore while she was in the D.C. area, so I could visit often. Sometimes I would take the MARC to visit for a weekend, for no reason. Other than to be around family; other than to escape my life; other than the fact that playing with a 2, 3, 4 year old immediately reaffirmed the joy in life. Other than the fact that immersing myself in family drama reminded me that I was needed, to temporarily fill the vacuum that had grown up around my sense of self that grad school had torn down - other than that, no reason.

I learned a lot about myself during that time. And a lot of it came through watching my nephew grow up, who my sister calls my son because he is so like me.

He is like me because he is quiet. He is scared. He is good at math. He doesn't like to try new things.

I've watched him make life so much harder for himself. But it is hard to say, you don't have to react this way - when someone catches you doing something wrong, it doesn't mean everybody hates you and the world is falling apart - you're not going to magically be immediately good at riding a bike, it takes patience and practice - etc., etc. And yet all I have is compassion. What I want to say is, it is not your fault. Your brain is not your fault. My brain is not my fault.

It became even clearer when my sister had a second child, who is definitely her daughter and not mine at all. She talks and talks. She is fearless. She may or may not be good at math, it is too early to tell, but she definitely likes pink. She jumps into new things the same way she swims - with reckless abandon, expecting the people around her to keep her head above water.

Her fearlessness is not her fault. His fear is not his fault.

The things that happened when I was young, the way my brain is wired, my overactive amygdala - none of this is my fault. But it is still hard. I still make choices. Surely some of those I have responsibility for. But sometimes I just can't. Maybe I could, though. I never know.

In all of this confusion and uncertainty, the only shining light that I can see is compassion. How to obtain that compassion, I have no idea, but I believe that is what's needed. We have this illusion of self-control, of power over our thoughts and deeds, and yet when we prod our human natures with science we learn of our biased perceptions, our need to construct stories about ourselves, and the mental shortcuts of our lazy, energy-saving brains. It is too easy to judge someone by what you think you would do yourself. But what would you do if you had their brain?

Compassion for yourself means giving yourself a break. Compassion for others means embracing uncertainty - without understanding what motives, what life-choices, what brain chemistry brought them to where they are, compassion means withholding judgment.

Of course, compassion is hard, because our brains do not do well with uncertainty. But your brain is not your fault.