I’m a thief.

Yeah, I know.  It’s a shock to me, too.

I mean, I know I’m not perfect.

I’ve done it before—taken things that weren’t mine.

In fact, right now I’m thinking of the handful of jellybeans I pilfered from my 3rd grade teacher’s desk when everyone was out at recess.

(Mrs. Bryan, if you’re reading this right now, I’m sorry about those jellybeans.)

Anyway.

I’m a thief.

What did I steal?

A fork.

Yes, just a fork.

A fork from a friend.

I was over at her house, having some lunch between appointments.

Forgot to bring my fork, so I borrowed one.

Stuck it in my sack lunch when I was finished–completely by accident I assure you!

This was no intentional jellybean pilfering thing.  No.

I’ve written before about forks.

About forgetting them at lunch time.  (This is a thing I do quite a lot, apparently.)

And about you and your forks, your expectations that make me shy and nervous.

But today isn’t really about thievery or about forks.

It’s about those times when you walk away from a lunch or coffee with someone else’s fork.

But it’s not their fork you’re holding.  It’s their anxiety.

Or their sadness.

Or their guilt.

Or a sense of smallness and inferiority.

It’s when you walk away from an exchange and you find you’re carrying much more than you came in with.

It’s when you feel dumped on.

The hidden exchange

We share so much more than food during mealtimes and meet ups.

It’s a part of human connection, to share things.

To struggle together.

To confide and console.

To join with.

Joining another person in their experience is a powerful thing.

Listening hard and trying to understand, really tuning in—these are wonderful gifts that we can give loved ones.

But sometimes we give and give and we don’t realize how much we’re giving until after.

Sometimes we walk away from an exchange feeling like we got stuck with the emotional bill.

Having choice and control over our sharing and joining is important.  It brings this important gift under our control, enabling us to choose when and how to use it.

Collecting unwanted forks

Some of us soak up other people’s feelings like sponges.

Certain people in our inner circle may be more prone to leaving us with their “forks” after a meeting.

And if we struggle with people-pleasing, we almost certainly find that this happens with many of our colleagues and family members.

People pleasers are keenly attuned to and preoccupied with the feeling states of the people around them.

We tend to soak up the emotional residue of the people around us without even trying.

If this was a momentary sharing of a burden, or something we did only occasionally, it wouldn’t be a problem.

But if we aren’t conscious of the exchange, then we simply don’t have control over it.

After all: how can we possibly regulate an invisible, interpersonal exchange if we’re not aware it is happening?

So, here are a few tips to help you keep your stuff on your plate and their stuff on theirs—more or less.

Things to try

Ask yourself: “How did this end up on my plate?”

Have awareness.  Know that this I’m-a-sponge-for-feelings thing is real, particularly if you’re a sensitive person.  Just because you can’t “see” it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening!

Avoid one-sided relationships.  These situations are primed to have you leave with more than you carried in.  Best to avoid these in general if you can.

Practice mindfulness. Be in touch with feelings and sensations in your body when you talk with others. Notice how this shifts when you are around different people.

Take another look.  Look for patterns; do certain feelings tend to come up more with certain people?  Some people in your inner circle may be more prone to fork-sharing than others.

Be curious.  Are you acting out of character?  Did you just do a complete 180 in a very short period of time?  Take that as a clue that something’s afoot.  Ask yourself, “Is this mine?  How did this end up on my plate?”

Exit stage left.  Don’t be afraid to set geographical boundaries if the interpersonal ones are feeling difficult.  Wrap up a meeting and take some time to reflect on it afterwards.

And as for me, I need to go write an email to my friend and tell her about my crime.

She’s a good friend.  Surely she will understand.

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Last year:  The surprising burden

Two years ago:  Three ruinous ways to grieve

Three years ago:  Mending journeys