Stories for Humans

A friend mentioned this quote the other day, and it has stayed in my mind as a compelling metaphor. Go with the thief as far as the door.

What does it mean? Who is the “thief”? Translated from another language, the saying needs a bit of nuance and explanation for English speakers. The thief is anyone who you might be walking alongside or perhaps helping or caring for in some way.

The message is this: when you’re walking with someone on their journey, do not go with them where they shouldn’t be going. When we are trying to help, mentor, or advise a person, the point where they metaphorically “break into the house” is where we must stand outside and say, “Sorry, I cannot go in with you. This is wrong, and if I keep going it will not help you and will also put me at risk. I will be here waiting outside, and when you are ready I hope we can carry on together.”

“Follow the thief as far as the door”. When they reach out to turn the doorknob, even if you are worried about what will happen to them, it does no good to cross the threshold, run around the rooms, or keep trying to plead that this is a terrible idea. See, when the alarm goes off and the police arrive, they will not accept your cries of, “I wasn’t going to rob anything! I just needed to be with my friend!” From the face of it, there’s no discernible difference between the thief and you.

I absolutely know that it seems like the best thing is to go along with them so you can be there to help. How do I know? I’ve gone through the door with the thief. Several times over the years, if I’m honest, and it never ended well. It has taken a long time to see the pattern, and more time to break it.

If I don’t go in, something might happen to them.

If I stay on the step, they will think I don’t care, and I care very much.

Nobody really understands them like I do.

It is essential that I build trust and a relationship with this person, and staying outside the house will break that.

I am the only friend they have.

The trouble is, when you open the door and go in with the thief, it removes their opportunity to do the right thing. Once you’re in the house, peering around with a flashlight, there is very little chance they will decide it’s a bad idea and leave. Why should they, when they can continue with their plan and have your presence and support at the same time?

But, what if they think I don’t like them.

This is really, really tough. It messes with a people-pleasing, or codependent mindset. A people-pleaser’s worst nightmare is being seen as mean or unkind. In reality though, the most loving thing to do is stand outside that door. It provides a clear way out for the person inside. It doesn’t feel loving, in the moment, but feelings are a very unreliable narrator of what is right. This needing to feel accepted is fickle – it appears that we care about others (and we do care), but needing the approval of others actually centers our own needs and self. It’s ultimately more about me. My strong feelings of needing to be liked or seeking approval are more important than doing the better thing for both me and the other person.

But, no one understands them like I do.

That may very well be true. It still doesn’t mean breaking into the house is helpful or right, or good for that person. This one is also very slippery to grapple with, because they may be so grateful for your understanding or so bonded to you because of shared experiences that it feels like abandoning yourself. We go in with the thief so as not to let down our vulnerable past self. And what I’ve learned over a few years of hard lessons is that others probably do understand. Maybe others in your circle have been on that threshold before, and are trying to sound a warning. When I think of the warnings I disregarded in the past…! The exclusivity of your relationship may be what binds you to the person you’re trying to help, but an exclusive or “special” relationship like this is rarely a healthy one and often ends in damage to both parties.

But, I’m trying to show they can trust me.

Trust is such a fragile thing. When relationships are tenuous, or there is a lot at stake, we can sometimes think the only way forward is to stick like glue to that person. Everyone else has let them down, but you never will. And so whatever that means – staying up all night, walking down dark alleyways, figuratively breaking into houses – it’s all just part of the trust-building exercise. Trust, however, is directly linked to integrity and authenticity. If I’m not really being my true self, standing on my beliefs and values, then the trust is unstable anyway. If the grappling hook that holds trust is anchored in shifting sandstone or crumbling concrete, it can’t be strong. It will keep moving with the turning tides of the relationship or the situation.

How do we end up in these situations? Some of us are more vulnerable for complex and personal reasons, but at the center there is an inability or an unwillingness to set boundaries with others, and this is often coupled with a hazy or patchy sense of self. Not knowing who we are is like being an unstable molecule, bonding swiftly to other unstable molecules that happen to be in the vicinity. I haven’t studied organic chemistry for decades, but I seem to remember the reactivity of unstable compounds as an interesting phenomenon. (And made for a few messy experiments in the lab…please correct me in the comments if you happen to be a chemist!)

Life can be complicated. We often can’t see our own situations clearly or objectively, and that is where the counsel of others is of infinite value. If you’re not sure what to do, or if you’re already in the house and struggling to find the door, ask friends whose opinions you value and who share your beliefs. And then do your best to hear what they have to say.

Often these situations are unique, but there are some general ideas that resonate. We have all been inspired by stories of rescue where a person credits a friend or family member for saving their life. We want to be the hero in the story. The one who went all the way and never gave up. This is completely understandable to me.

Here’s a thought – what if they can be their own hero? Just think about it. What we all need more than anything is to be the hero for our own story. If helping too much makes me the hero instead, then I may have robbed the person of that opportunity.

Before the doorknob turns, we should speak up and say that we cannot go further. Entering the house with the thief will always result in pain or regret. When the law is broken, justice follows. Showing true love to someone is often not very pleasant or fun, and it can be lonely and frustrating standing by yourself on that step. When you go too far with the thief, life might seem fine for awhile, but eventually you realize what you have risked, and all without saving them. Those who do wrong and those who enable them to do wrong can end up in the same handcuffs.

Sometimes, helping is hurting. I have been hurt and have caused others to be hurt, and this lesson is too harsh and painful to hide in the filing cabinet of my life. Wisdom cries out in the streets, but we seldom heed her! Follow the thief as far as the door, but no farther – and then watch and pray. I hope I remember writing this the next time I’m tempted to swoop in and be the rescuing hero.