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Eileen brought cookies for her team on the first Wednesday of every month. Nobody asked her, but she thought it warmed things up in the office, to have treats like that. She'd do other things, too--remember people's birthdays, bring back little knick-knacks from a trip she went on, forward emails that she knew her co-workers would be interested in. If someone had a challenging project that was going to keep them at work into the evening, she'd check in on them--and sometimes she'd even stay to help out!
But, over time, inside, something was wrong. She realized that she was beginning to resent her co-workers. The easy-breezy ones. The ones who never thought of others. Who never brought cookies or forwarded emails.
Especially, say, Brad, who didn't ever do anything nice for anyone else, and yet was the most popular person in her office. Eileen was embarrassed to have these uncharitable thoughts. But, really, would it hurt for people to show her some appreciation? Would it hurt for someone, once, to say "thank you?"
Acts of generosity and kindness can curdle into resentment. Not always, of course. But, sometimes. I have a theory of when those times are.
It's not when or whether other people respond in certain ways. It's not whether someone says thank you. In fact, I believe resentment has very little to do with what other people or don't do, in response to generosity or kindness.
I think resentment is connected to the motivation of the giver.
If the person bringing in cookies, forwarding emails, staying late to help others is doing all of these things out of a peaceful heart, with clarity that it's an expression of who they are and what they've decided--aware that they could just have easily decided to do something else? That's giving that comes from freedom.
But if the cookies, the little gifts, the offers to help, over time, are related to a growing sense of resentment, then it's often the case that the giving and helping wasn't given freely. There was some expectation, some sense of fairness at play, however unconscious.
Establishing mutual expectations is perfectly acceptable. That's what negotiation entails. One person trading an object, their service, or their time in exchange for receiving something else that they value is as old as humanity.
But sometimes people who give a lot fail to make their expectations explicit. They negotiate privately within themselves, never telling others the deal. For instance, "If I bring these cookies into the office once a month, you'll give me the feedback that I'm kind." Or, "If I stay late to help you on your projects, you'll do likewise for me." Someone who extends themselves like this might believe that everyone else should respond similarly. But that's unreasonable.
It's unreasonable for me to believe that others have agreed to something which I haven't communicated. It's unreasonable for me to expect others to read my mind, and to know what I want. It's unreasonable for me to be disappointed in others who fail to live up to expectations that I haven't conveyed to them, and to which they haven't agreed. It's unreasonable to believe I can fix other people's problems, or pressure them into functioning like I want them to.
Someone like Eileen doesn't often think that they're unreasonable. They often think that they're perfectly reasonable. So, becoming aware of the unconscious deal they've struck can bring some new perspective. Perspective can provide the context in which they can think about how they want to relate to others, and decide to change (or not).
One way to gain perspective on unwanted patterns in life is to reflect on how they were developed, earlier in life, probably in some way that served one's family or one's survival. In this case, Eileen might reflect on how "overfunctioning" for others has served her in her life. It might have won her friends or approval. It might have helped advance her career. It might have given her a sense of being "good" or "responsible." And, again, if one wants to behave in those ways--bringing in cookies, helping others out--that's a choice a person can make. But the key question is: is it a choice or is it a compulsion?
To the extent that I haven't reflected on my motives--on how I'm participating in a dynamic that's causing me stress--I'll continue to focus, helplessly and resentfully, on others and how I wish they could change.
As you think about your own relationships, at home and work, where do you notice yourself slightly resentful? Resentment is a helpful sign of overfunctioning. If you suspect that you are overfunctioning, what is your thinking about your behavior? What's driving it? What would happen if you stopped or changed that behavior--what would be threatened, and who would be upset? What difficult truth and what difficult conversation is avoided by your choice to continue to overfunction for others?
The contemplative life isn't only for those who steal away to monasteries or sit up on a mountain. Reflecting on one's own behavior, and challenging one's own assumptions, can open up a world of perspective. But it takes time and effort. And, inevitably, it surfaces painful observations that are more comfortable to leave buried deep, below my awareness.
So, if you are an "Eileen," keep bringing in cookies and helping others--or doing whatever you are doing on behalf of others. But when you notice resentment creeping up, and are tempted to lash out at others, or at least to mutter about them, think about your part of the equation, and what you haven't yet figured out for yourself.
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