The Echoist

The weight of my words fall at my feet like softball-sized hailstones from the sky. They drape over the room like a dense fog shrouding a highway. I have never communicated such thoughts out loud before—and since my therapist was in the room when I said them— I could not deny their existence anymore either. I feel like I just admitted where I buried a body. 

I have heard these thoughts jostling around in the floorboard of my mind. However, I presumed these thoughts were symbiotic—not parasitic. I had no idea that my true thoughts were the excrement that lured the buzzing flies of my feelings, and I was the bumbling donkey mechanically swatting them away.  

I plop down on the edge of my therapist’s velvet green sofa. (Normally, I prefer to pace.) I must look like I found out someone close to me has died. Perhaps someone did die. Me. For decades, I have murdered myself for the convenience and comfort of others. I have plucked off the petals of my desires, truths, and wishes so that everyone else’s garden would grow. I am the reason why my life is so small. I have been the warden of my prison cell, and my confession has shown me the bars of my cage are paper thin. Finally, I am free to leave. Dread begins to bleed around the edges of my “breakthrough.” 

“What do I do now?” I ask my therapist. 

“You don’t have to do anything right now. Yet, we should explore what beliefs are causing you to put others before yourself,” she suggests. 

“I thought being selfless was honorable.”  

“It is, until it becomes a detriment to yourself; Getting lost in the needs of others is honorable, but it isn’t always benign. Eventually, you will get burned out or washed out.” 

I think over her assessment. I’ve always heard about people that are selfish and narcissistic. But I didn’t realize there was an opposite end of the spectrum.

“What is the opposite of a narcissist?” I asked. 

“An echoiest.” 

 An echoiest? Is that what I am? I muse over this for a moment. I examine every choice I have ever made and determine this: I was not brave enough to listen to myself. Trying to mentally scaffold the cathedrals between echoism and narcissism, I decide to prod my therapist for the property lines. 

“How does an echoiest become a narcissist? When am I thinking of myself too much or not enough? Where is that line? How do I care for others and myself? Is there a percentage? A rule of thumb…” 

“Narcissism isn't a solitary choice. It is a way of life. But in your case, you cannot save someone else from drowning if you too cannot swim.” 

“So, what do I do?” 

She leans in. “Start slowly. You don’t need to dramatically alter your life to accommodate your epiphany. But every day, decide what you NEED and what you cannot compromise on. Treat every feeling like a symptom. Is it just a sneeze, something you know is a minor irritant? Will it go away? Or is it a cold? The flu? If your feelings persist like a cold or the flu, that is your clue to listen. You should listen to yourself as well as you listen to those you love.”

“How can I be so attuned to everyone else’s needs but know so very little about my own?” I say mostly to myself.

“There are various reasons why we value others’ opinions above our own…Others can become the pond we wish to see our reflection in.” 

“Interesting.” I feel like a portal to my brain has been unsealed. 

She looks at her watch. “Unfortunately, we have to end our session for today.” 

Must be nice being able to wrap up a problem when it no longer works within your schedule. “So, that’s it? I walk away with this grenade in my hand?” 

“Would you like to come back tomorrow?”

“I would like some answers.” 

“I’m not here to give you THE answers. I’m here to show you how to find them.” 

“I guess that makes sense.”

“In the meantime, I have something I want you to work on.” She scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to me. 

I take it and read it out loud. “Body, brain, heart, soul, goals, and roles." I look up at her. "What is this?” 

“Your owner’s manual. When you get in the car for the first time—before you start driving—the first thing you learn is to check your mirrors, your seat belt, your seat, etc.”

“Right.

“Before you get on the road of your life, check your car." She places a palm on her chest like she was getting ready to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. 

"My what?"

She continues, "Every day I want you to check in with your body, your brain, your heart, your soul, your goals, and the roles you play for others. Assess them. Prioritize them. Give them what they need.”

“How do I know what they need?”

“You listen like you would if they were a friend.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay, see you next week?” She may see me next week, but I was seeing myself for the first time. There was no prescription to help me live with that. 

After I leave her office, I Google the term echoiest. Echoism like narcissism has a Greek origin story of her own: Echo was a nymph that parroted the words and sounds of everyone around her. When she stumbled across Narcissus, she fell madly in love with him. However, Narcissus had already fallen in love with himself. Rejected, Echo disappeared into the caves and forests where she can still be heard today. 

I reflect on this myth for a moment as I sit in traffic. The lesson is simple: loving yourself or loving another too much can lead to your demise. But what if Echo wasn’t broken hearted because she couldn’t have Narcissus? What if she was broken hearted because she couldn't see herself the way Narcissus saw himself. Is not a reflection an echo?

 I, like Echo, did not have a pool to see my own reflection in. I must echo my own thoughts, feelings, wishes, and desires so that I can gaze lovingly at the person I deserve to be. I must echo my own thoughts, feelings, wishes, and desires to that I can become the person that I deserve to be. 

Body, Brain, Heart, Soul, Roles, Goals