When We Know Better, We Do Better

In my previous post, I wrote that we are doing the best we can. That observation, put into words by Maya Angelou is important, but so is her follow-up: When we know better, we do better. “But why,” I found myself thinking.

I wrote that post because I am delving into the work of Dr. Gabor Mate and his premise that addiction stems from childhood loss and trauma. His famous question is, “Not why the addiction, but why the pain?” If you uncover what purpose the addiction served, you can trace it to the source of what you were trying to soothe.

And when you find the source of your pain, it is likely you will find that it surfaced out of a need that went unmet. Something that happened that shouldn’t have, or something that didn’t happen, that should have. When you find the shard that caused you pain, or the hole that offered nothing but space to fall through, you eventually come to the question, Why?

This question begs an answer from someone, and the ones whom you want to ask are probably the very ones you don’t want to ask. Because if you understand who to ask you can see that they are the ones who will either be: 1) looking back themselves, at the people who caused the shards and holes of their past, or 2) still existing in the state of not knowing better.

I’m teaching my pregnant and parenting teens about how to develop a secure attachment with their infants. This process of doing the best we can seems to be surrounding me like a thick, fleecy blanket. Creating a secure attachment in infancy is important because is affects the infant’s brain and they way they will be able to develop trust and self-awareness and empathy, I explain.

Inevitably the first hand shoots up, “But what if they’ve been left to cry it out a few times,” asks a slightly red faced young mom. “What if I had a really bad night and I just couldn’t get up one more time to feed them?” Knowing silence. “That’s ok,” I reassure. “We’ve all had those times. What is important is that we do the best we can, and when we know better, we do better. I’m telling you this so you will know.”

And that’s the difference. It can’t be someone’s fault if they aren’t aware that what they are doing is wrong. If what you are doing is trying to get by on what you’ve been taught, and what you think to be true, and the coping mechanisms you’ve developed to survive, what more can anyone ask of you?

What use is it to cast blame on yourself for something you did that may have messed something or someone up if you were operating in the only way you knew how?

It’s the knowing better that makes the difference; the awareness that brings responsibility. I spent the first fifteen years of motherhood making my way through the haze of my own bad choices. Sure, drinking was a coping mechanism, to deal with anxiety over not being enough, overwhelm at trying to be too much, and a constant sadness, largely created by what I was using to cure myself. Living this way doesn’t leave a lot of room to focus on the ones you’re raising. Yes, I was meeting basic needs, but there was not a lot of presence in my presence.

Then things got to a point where I knew, deep in my soul, that I needed to do better. I started reading the literature, gathering momentum, and praying what I now see were half-hearted prayers. I started and stopped. Stopped and started. And stopped again. Learning all the while, much like a baby bird taking a few test flights and falls before she soars. Then one day, I realized I was flying and that I would do whatever it took, each day, not to fall again. I knew better. And I was going to do better.

So back to the question of why. Why do we do better, once we know better? Why does a young mom lug her exhausted body out of bed a hundred times, if necessary, to soothe the plaintive cries of her infant? Why do we drop the needle, or flush the pills, or pour out the bottle and pick up the phone, or the book, or hit the floor on our knees? Why do we show up, every day and do the repetitive, mundane, necessary work to be better? Why do we sit through the pain and discomfort of our emotions when it would be easier, even natural, to numb them away?

Because when we open the door to awareness, we also let love in. Love for ourselves and love for others. We see that doing better comes with the acceptance that we are loved and we are love. When we embrace the fact that we are love, then we can love, and we do love.

Why do we do better? We do better, because we realize that painful edges and bottomless holes can only be smoothed away and filled by love.