"What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them."
Adeline had a hard time falling asleep tonight. We got her brushed, washed, and into the softest Spongebob pyjamas imaginable. She was well snuggled in all manner of bed clothes and read more than the usual allotment of books. In spite of all this and even though we stayed up later than usual coloring, she was fidgety, distracted, and generally uneasy. We got up to our 'lights out' book and, through absolutely piteous sniffles, asked if she could sleep in mom and dad's bed tonight. That's normal for them, but generally she stays in her own bed when I put her down, so obviously something was up and I immediately said yes. She didn't want a hug or to be carried, just to be in the other bed. I read the last chapter of the Narnia book they'd been reading, after which she asked me to sing to her. After a few songs, she finally asked me to lay with her a while. I clambered up, she nuzzled in, and a scant two minutes after our Eskimo kiss she was deeply zonked.
As I crept out, knowing that even if I went head-over-heels on the dresser she wouldn't wake up, I thought about how long things had taken. What stood out to me was that Adeline had shown incredible self-awareness in the hour it took between the lights going out and sleep finally setting in. A lot of kids I know would've fussed and made a stink, trying to get what they wanted without really knowing what that was and banging it out to the cheap seats. Girly Girl went in stages. She said no to Coraline, which is a favorite, because, I now realize, the subject matter would've been distressing when she was feeling the way she did. She tried different things to help her fall asleep, stories, songs, a venue change, until she found what it was she needed. I was of course touched that the something was me, but I was more touched at how she took such care to explore her own needs, to see if a lower level of pattern change would give her what she needed, rather than jumping head first into the biggest change. That bodes well for her future and speaks very well for her present.
One of the reasons this stuck out so much - I'm always seeing cool things in her, so it's not always as consuming as it was tonight - is the fact that she has mastered a coping mechanism that is dependent on her ability to both communicate with herself and with those around her freely. She got exactly what she wanted because she figured out precisely what it was and asked for it explicitly. That's a pretty big deal at any age, and given the relationship craziness that's in the air, what happened tonight has made me start questioning how people interact on a basic level, especially how I think I communicate versus how I actually do.
Parents of some of the kids I babysit are splitting up. I figured this out a long time ago - this confirms my emotional distress Spidey Sense - but only got confirmation in the past couple of days. It looks pretty ugly. Not in a way that would necessarily impact the kids more than the divorce itself, but one party says that the other party has been, among other things, emotionally unavailable for the better part of a decade. That number blew my mind. How do you keep things that important, that cause you so much pain, to yourself for a decade, without it coming out to your partner at some point? Even if there weren't healthy, productive conversations, was there never a fight or a moment of anger in which these egregious parts missing from your marriage spilled forth? But maybe that's the point really: how deep can you bury the things you're so desperate for others to know?
My thinking has always been that if I have a problem, be it emotional, academic, practical, etc., I need to get help from someone who knows about whatever happens to be troubling me. Souffle keeps falling? Ask Alton Brown. Heidegger still obtuse? Ask Chad. Getting constantly creeped on? Ask everyone who knows me what to do. Can't manage to say what I need in a relationship? Go see a counselor. However, in looking at the above situation, I finally got how easy it is not to see things in others when you don't have a clue they exist, as well as how easy it is to keep anyone else from noticing them, even when your greatest desire is to have someone notice and give a damn. Been there? I have property there.
Because of how things have gone in the past, even when I ask for help - with very few exceptions - I'm rarely putting myself out there 100%, because I always feel as though it won't come or it will be a burden for whomever I ask. A lot of that has to do with the fact that I don't have anyone to really talk to about things, to process with - Mom doesn't count on this, because we all know that no matter how awesome the relationship, a mom is different than a good friend - so I often can't tell when and how to ask. A great deal of what I desire is for people to care enough about me to notice when I'm hurting, the way I notice when they are. I know that's not realistic at the moment because of how many people I actually see and the dynamics of those relationships, but it's still a factor in how I deal. In the past month alone, the handful of times I've reached out it has not gone well and it's made me even more gun shy. Now that I've had a bit of time to think about them, I can't help but wonder if I set those folks up for failure with either unrealistic expectations (thinking they got what I was saying off the bat) or by not expressing what it was I needed, namely to treat me the way I'd treated them. I look at that couple and, with only the limited interactions I've had with them, know that had the first party told the second party how they felt and why, the second party would've done everything in their power to make it right. But that chance was never given. I wonder how long the problem was actually known about and how often I've done the exact same thing.
Once she knew she needed it, Adeline asked me to cuddle up with her. As an adult, what a terrifying thought that is, at least, it is for me in a great many situations. The times when people offer help - which is more frequent now that I'm living with menfolk who are gentlemen - are generally times when I don't need it. I've had to bring my groceries in on my own for a long time now, so while the offer to help is appreciated, I've already got all seven gallons of water almost to their spot, so I'm good. When a situation arises that appropriate help is needed and offered, I always take it. I understand that being helpful is a gift, I know that exceptionally well in fact, but I don't know that I could be as decisive as Adeline about most things when it comes to asking. I've been dreaming about riding my bike since the first day of Spring air hit, so I asked for help from someone who was more than equipped to teach me what I needed to know. He said okay, but I ended up getting blown off/ignored/lowly prioritized, so I was a little wounded on that one. Zach offered to help and did. Easy peasey. It was awesome. But had Jason not heard me express how bummed I was about the aforementioned situation, he would've never mentioned it to Zach, Zach wouldn't have offered to help, and I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to ask anyone else because I was still licking my wounds from the last time I tried. I certainly wouldn't have been able to ride every day this week. It strikes me that I have no idea what I'm missing out on because I'm just too exhausted to keep trying sometimes, exhausted and scared that the next time will be the one that breaks me completely.
So maybe I don't have any right to be surprised that someone could keep ten years of unhappiness from their spouse. Needing someone to notice can be just as powerful as needing someone to know. Maybe I've underestimated how much everyone holds in when they think it won't be well-received. I just wish I knew how to judge the proper times, the right people, then maybe I'd be able to do and be more than I am at present. Even if I know what I need, does it matter if I don't have the gumption to say so?
"People far too easily neglect or abuse us, as soon as we become intimate with them. To live pleasantly, one must almost always remain a stranger in the crowd." Every ounce of me wants to believe that Knigge was wrong, because otherwise nothing's going to change and that sounds like the least pleasant life I can imagine in these circumstances. How's that for a dark, creeping horror that stalks in the night?
As I crept out, knowing that even if I went head-over-heels on the dresser she wouldn't wake up, I thought about how long things had taken. What stood out to me was that Adeline had shown incredible self-awareness in the hour it took between the lights going out and sleep finally setting in. A lot of kids I know would've fussed and made a stink, trying to get what they wanted without really knowing what that was and banging it out to the cheap seats. Girly Girl went in stages. She said no to Coraline, which is a favorite, because, I now realize, the subject matter would've been distressing when she was feeling the way she did. She tried different things to help her fall asleep, stories, songs, a venue change, until she found what it was she needed. I was of course touched that the something was me, but I was more touched at how she took such care to explore her own needs, to see if a lower level of pattern change would give her what she needed, rather than jumping head first into the biggest change. That bodes well for her future and speaks very well for her present.
One of the reasons this stuck out so much - I'm always seeing cool things in her, so it's not always as consuming as it was tonight - is the fact that she has mastered a coping mechanism that is dependent on her ability to both communicate with herself and with those around her freely. She got exactly what she wanted because she figured out precisely what it was and asked for it explicitly. That's a pretty big deal at any age, and given the relationship craziness that's in the air, what happened tonight has made me start questioning how people interact on a basic level, especially how I think I communicate versus how I actually do.
Parents of some of the kids I babysit are splitting up. I figured this out a long time ago - this confirms my emotional distress Spidey Sense - but only got confirmation in the past couple of days. It looks pretty ugly. Not in a way that would necessarily impact the kids more than the divorce itself, but one party says that the other party has been, among other things, emotionally unavailable for the better part of a decade. That number blew my mind. How do you keep things that important, that cause you so much pain, to yourself for a decade, without it coming out to your partner at some point? Even if there weren't healthy, productive conversations, was there never a fight or a moment of anger in which these egregious parts missing from your marriage spilled forth? But maybe that's the point really: how deep can you bury the things you're so desperate for others to know?
My thinking has always been that if I have a problem, be it emotional, academic, practical, etc., I need to get help from someone who knows about whatever happens to be troubling me. Souffle keeps falling? Ask Alton Brown. Heidegger still obtuse? Ask Chad. Getting constantly creeped on? Ask everyone who knows me what to do. Can't manage to say what I need in a relationship? Go see a counselor. However, in looking at the above situation, I finally got how easy it is not to see things in others when you don't have a clue they exist, as well as how easy it is to keep anyone else from noticing them, even when your greatest desire is to have someone notice and give a damn. Been there? I have property there.
Because of how things have gone in the past, even when I ask for help - with very few exceptions - I'm rarely putting myself out there 100%, because I always feel as though it won't come or it will be a burden for whomever I ask. A lot of that has to do with the fact that I don't have anyone to really talk to about things, to process with - Mom doesn't count on this, because we all know that no matter how awesome the relationship, a mom is different than a good friend - so I often can't tell when and how to ask. A great deal of what I desire is for people to care enough about me to notice when I'm hurting, the way I notice when they are. I know that's not realistic at the moment because of how many people I actually see and the dynamics of those relationships, but it's still a factor in how I deal. In the past month alone, the handful of times I've reached out it has not gone well and it's made me even more gun shy. Now that I've had a bit of time to think about them, I can't help but wonder if I set those folks up for failure with either unrealistic expectations (thinking they got what I was saying off the bat) or by not expressing what it was I needed, namely to treat me the way I'd treated them. I look at that couple and, with only the limited interactions I've had with them, know that had the first party told the second party how they felt and why, the second party would've done everything in their power to make it right. But that chance was never given. I wonder how long the problem was actually known about and how often I've done the exact same thing.
Once she knew she needed it, Adeline asked me to cuddle up with her. As an adult, what a terrifying thought that is, at least, it is for me in a great many situations. The times when people offer help - which is more frequent now that I'm living with menfolk who are gentlemen - are generally times when I don't need it. I've had to bring my groceries in on my own for a long time now, so while the offer to help is appreciated, I've already got all seven gallons of water almost to their spot, so I'm good. When a situation arises that appropriate help is needed and offered, I always take it. I understand that being helpful is a gift, I know that exceptionally well in fact, but I don't know that I could be as decisive as Adeline about most things when it comes to asking. I've been dreaming about riding my bike since the first day of Spring air hit, so I asked for help from someone who was more than equipped to teach me what I needed to know. He said okay, but I ended up getting blown off/ignored/lowly prioritized, so I was a little wounded on that one. Zach offered to help and did. Easy peasey. It was awesome. But had Jason not heard me express how bummed I was about the aforementioned situation, he would've never mentioned it to Zach, Zach wouldn't have offered to help, and I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to ask anyone else because I was still licking my wounds from the last time I tried. I certainly wouldn't have been able to ride every day this week. It strikes me that I have no idea what I'm missing out on because I'm just too exhausted to keep trying sometimes, exhausted and scared that the next time will be the one that breaks me completely.
So maybe I don't have any right to be surprised that someone could keep ten years of unhappiness from their spouse. Needing someone to notice can be just as powerful as needing someone to know. Maybe I've underestimated how much everyone holds in when they think it won't be well-received. I just wish I knew how to judge the proper times, the right people, then maybe I'd be able to do and be more than I am at present. Even if I know what I need, does it matter if I don't have the gumption to say so?
"People far too easily neglect or abuse us, as soon as we become intimate with them. To live pleasantly, one must almost always remain a stranger in the crowd." Every ounce of me wants to believe that Knigge was wrong, because otherwise nothing's going to change and that sounds like the least pleasant life I can imagine in these circumstances. How's that for a dark, creeping horror that stalks in the night?