“Lettuce with a -Th…”
When you have a name like Thetis you spend a good portion of your life creating mnemonic devices to help people pronounce it correctly. How many times in a week do I say, “Thetis…like lettuce with a ‘Th’”?
I didn’t choose it. I don’t particularly like it. But I’ll say, people don’t forget it once they know it. You can mention my name casually in a conversation and suddenly someone will say, “…wait…you know Thetis?”
In high school, when called to the office, it was only by my first name. There was only one Thetis. I was voted most likely to join the likes of Cher and Madonna and only go by my first name. I have had people ask, what is a Thetis? What does Thetis consist of? Did your parents hate you? I have heard it all.
My oldest friends have also gotten accustomed to the tedium of explaining my name. Sometimes they’ll jump on that grenade so I don’t have to do it. I admit that I get slightly impatient now and rather than letting people sound it out, I just say it for them (sometimes teaching people how to fish gets tiresome). I can anticipate when my name is next in line to be called because of long pauses and contorted expressions from a nurse or hostess as they stare at this baffling collection of consonants and vowels. Eventually they say their version of it, I correct them, and we go on with the business at hand. It can be monotonous. But it’s also funny. I never, ever, ever, ever give my name for orders at Panera or at the dressing room at Athleta. A girl needs a reprieve from having to go through the entire exercise of explanation. It’s just a name, afterall.
Sometimes though, someone with true curiosity or a hunch, will ask what my name means. I have been asked so often I have a rote response: “She is the mother of Achilles. She was a small sea goddess or nymph. She baptized Achilles holding him by the heel. So now we have the Achilles tendon.” I was giving this brief mythology lesson to a friend recently and I found myself saying, “you know the most vulnerable part of him was that ankle” and Boom!, blog content was born. For those of you who don’t know the story, yes, when he was an infant, Achilles’ mother held him upside down by the ankle and did a full immersion baptism. Every part of him was safe from harm except for the area around the back of his ankle where his mother’s hand grasped him. So when it came time to meet his mythological maker, he was shot by an arrow in the one vulnerable part of his body. It’s now referred to as the Achilles tendon.
You can’t swing a dead goddess without hitting a therapist talking about vulnerability these days, so here we go! What is YOUR Achilles tendon? What is the spot you would rather not expose to the world? What is the trigger that activates your fears and shame? How do we view our vulnerabilities? Why do we call them weaknesses when they are in fact the most precious part of us? Do we take special care to protect those places or shove them aside in fear of exposure? Do we take time to examine them and reflect how those spots impact our relationships or self concept? Is there room for reflection for the pieces of us we’d rather leave behind?
When we learn to embrace those places that hurt when prodded, we provide ourselves a type of grace that is healing. Little by little the tenderness gives way to lifegiving acceptance. But we have to find and face our emotional Achilles. We have to sit with it and accept it and the reactions it elicits. We have to understand the Why behind our reactions to it. The human brain is designed to fight, flight or freeze to protect from predators…even emotional ones. So we have to grant forgiveness and understanding for ourselves and for others. We aren’t making excuses for bad behavior, that is different and it is based on intent. Instead, we ask “why was it so important for me to lash out at this moment? What am I protecting?” When we can candidly reflect on our fears, we can begin to trust that those places of perceived weakness are actually valuable sources of emotional intelligence.
So next time you get hit in that spot that hurts a little more than others, reflect on the why and ask yourself if you would benefit from a different, more reflective position. How is the way you view these places impacting how you regard yourself others on the whole? Is it possible that past tactics of avoidance are no longer adaptive in their function?
Our emotional hurts can sting and endure a little longer than the physical. When you notice this, admit you are human and try adopting a less protected and more open stance in the face of today’s slings and arrows.
If you’d like to explore your emotional Achilles with me contact me today.
