Yesterday I heard a piece of a story on CBC radio. A youth diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. While he was in the hospital the doctor told the family to let the boy eat anything he wanted. Every day they went to Mcdonalds for 22 chicken mc nuggets. The story teller remembers hiding the mc nuggets under her coat to escape the darting stares of those in the cancer ward. She recalls wanting to shout, “The doctor told us to!”
Oh wow we humans so fast to judge. I most definitely would have embodied the Judge in this instance.
The journey of judgement. Judging oneself and others. I remember years ago while waiting for a flight in Canada, turning my head the same moment a woman turned her head, when both our eyes met, we simultaneously gasped. Me, over an elder stylish white woman whose face was stretched and pulled into an attempt at youthfulness and she over me, a younger white woman (this was over 15 years ago) with dreads gathered messily on top my head. I felt immediately our personified judgement soaring through the air.
l also think of the journey of judgement with my mom who chain smokes. I remember hearing Gabor Mate a few years ago tell a heroin addict how strong he was in finding a way to keep himself alive through heroin. I remember thinking wow that would be a cool way to approach it with mom, good for you mom, you found smoking as a means of staying alive, as a means of keeping the pain away, surviving trauma. Gabore starts with recognizing, validating, acknowledging addiction as a symptom of much deeper underlying trauma issues. He moves from judgement and shame to acknowledgment and validation of strength and resiliency in keeping one’s life moving forward even if it means pulling on a cigarette or pouring another shot or finding a next vein. Start from a place of love and compassion rather than judgement and shame.
Good for the doctor and the young boy’s family for choosing life (McDonald’s chicken nuggets) over what will the neighbors think! The young boy is now 26 years in remission.