Negativity

Sometimes I wonder if I sound as negative to other people as some people sound to me. You know — some folks are always criticizing something or other. I know I have my pet criticizables too. How to be honest about such things in such a way as to be gracious, and full of light and hope, and pleasant? And not the “let’s all just be nice and ignore all those elephants” way either.

Corrections

One of the things I’ve been criticized for (gently and otherwise) is having unrealistic or unreasonable expectations. This was especially clear in my camp counselor evaluations and during my work at a Montessori school, and in my therapy with Joe. I think I’ve made a lot of progress… but it’s still an issue.

1. Amy. I’ve been so irritated by her contradictions lately. She’ll be doing something not allowed, and I’ll look at her or say something, and she’ll just start shouting “No!” over and over. Or she’ll want me to play with her instead of doing something I’m working on by myself, and if she asks several different things in a row and I try to divert her attention by reminding her that she has her own toys, she’ll contradict that: “No, I don’t!” or “I can’t do anything!” If she’s in THAT kind of mood, there’s no reasoning — everything is black and white, all or nothing.

I really ought to understand all that stuff. Sometimes I have moods like that, too. Letting the mood pass without trying to reason through it is more effective — there’s a time for reasoning and a time for quiet patience and empathy.

Plus, there’s “subjective truth.” This is an idea I learned about from Joe. Basically, there is objective truth, like Amy does in fact have her own toys. Then there’s subjective truth — the truth of Amy’s feelings, wishes, reactions, perceptions, etc. Her toys may as well NOT exist when she’s in THAT mood. I need to be better at acknowledging the feelings that are behind such words, and less concerned about correcting the objective truth issue.

Tricky, isn’t it? I want Amy to understand truth, be truthful, be reasonable, speak respectfully even when she’s upset… those are good goals, but I need more patience and wisdom in pursuing them most appropriately. In balance with the other goals of being compassionate and respectful, acknowledging subjective truth, allowing strong feelings and expressions of them.

So even though I hated having my friends tell me so, y’all were right — these contradictions are not really the hill I want to die on.

2. Therapist interview questions. I have sent my interview questions to two potential therapists. One never responded. The other hemmed and hawed a bit, then suggested the phone, then, when I prodded a little more in favor of email but expressed willingness to do the phone if necessary, told me to just look elsewhere.

My list of questions IS long. Several of them imply some in-depth, thoughtful responses. And yet I thought, if only someone would say, “Wow, that’s too many questions for an email interview — can you pick the most important five?” or “I’m afraid I don’t have time to do justice to all of these questions by email. A personal meeting would allow me to better gauge what kind of answers would be most helpful” or something along those lines. Of course I would love in-depth thoughtful answers to all of the questions, but I’m also willing to negotiate.

I sent my list to another friend who’s had experience with therapy, too. Her feedback was really helpful, even though again it wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.

First of all, she saw that I had three categories of questions. Some were appropriate for initial interviewing, things that are mainly seeking factual information like credentials. Others were better for a second round of discussion, and the last category were questions that betrayed some baggage from previous attempts to find good therapists. About that last category, my friend pointed out that people would be unlikely to be able to answer those questions satisfactorily and accurately — they’re the kind of thing I could only find out through experience with the person.

I don’t want to do it that way — I want to just find out, in one fell swoop, who would be a good therapist for me. I hate the thought of having to do three or four sessions to figure it out. But, yeah, that’s unreasonable and unrealistic. At least at this point I’m not looking for a regular therapist, but just for someone to have established in case I need someone in the future. (Shopping for a therapist is really difficult DURING a crisis.)

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It’s not so much the learning, the advice, the better approach, that bugs me about being corrected. It’s the need to be corrected at all — I hate being wrong. I hate leaving any openings for anyone to look down on me. And I hate the condescension of someone beaming down at me to see how much progress I’ve made, how I’m really coming along, and someday might just be almost as good as they are.

The pop-in

I popped in on a friend today. I didn’t plan on the pop-in — I was just going to ask if she was going jogging or walking (a group of mamas goes twice a week) despite the drizzle — but she invited us in, so we accepted.

She and I chatted, and the kids played a bit, then we were about to take our leave when it was time for her kid’s breakfast — but it looked so nice out now that I asked if she would go walking with us after the breakfast, and she agreed.

My friend set a good pace — didn’t look as challenging for her as it was for me. If I’d been by myself, I would have slowed down or quit, but it felt good to keep up and go as far as we did.

Even better was the fabulous ice cream at the coffee shop, especially when my friend’s outrage at the misleading menu saved us a surprising amount of money.

Middle

How often we think in extremes, forgetting the middle, or overreaching it in our efforts to avoid one extreme or the other.

1) One friend wrote about whether she would always be waiting for someone to hurt her, or whether she could trust that she only has good people around her. I understand that — I have issues with trust, and with expecting hurt, and with interpreting everything as personally and negatively as possible, and being paranoid.

I thought, though, what about the middle? Remembering one of my favorite quotations, “To have no illusions, and yet to love,” from Howards End. Or Sara Groves’ song, “Even though your heart is raw, love is still a worthy cause.” I suspect it’s possible to know that everyone will hurt us, intentionally or otherwise, at least once, and that nevertheless it won’t necessarily destroy us, or destroy the relationship, and that pursuing real, intimate, trusting relationship can still be worthwhile.

One of her other commenters was even better — talked about how if we trust ourselves, our own strength, that we can survive and get through so many things, that can help us have better, more stable, more trusting relationships that can weather more storms.

2) In another recent conversation, some friends and I were discussing marriage (and other relationships) and issues of service, respect, giving, needs, communication, and so on.

Some folks emphasize the need to look at our own flaws and failings, to work on our own attitudes and behavior, to treat our spouse or friend as if they were consistently and completely wonderful and worthy.

I tend to emphasize the need to communicate — spouses and friends can’t read minds, and won’t know we feel hurt, or have unmet needs, or what our desires and complaints are, unless we tell them. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to say so. It’s okay to want something different, and ask for it.

I feel like I’m occupying a middle — I’m not advocating ignoring or denying the spouse’s or friend’s needs, desires, complaints, etc, or fighting for one’s own wants at any cost. I’m not advocating arrogance or demandingness or complete selfishness.

I just think sometimes the first emphasis can be unhealthy for those of us who are tempted to think we aren’t worth enough to express ourselves or act to pursue our own interests — that it’s wrong to even have our own desires, much less pursue them. That the only thing that’s proper in marriage is service. That anything wrong or unsatisfying or disappointing or hurtful is either our own fault or something we’re not allowed to think or talk about.

Yet I understand the emphasis, too — and the need for it. I know that it’s my own fear of the extreme that makes me wary of it. I need to remember that it’s possible to do that emphasis AND my emphasis. I suppose we tend to say and urge and emphasize what we most need to hear ourselves.

———

Both topics make me think about DBT’s interpersonal effectiveness module. Technical name, corny material, but there’s wisdom in it. How to balance self-respect, one’s own desires, and the maintenance of the relationship. How to communicate effectively. It’s realistic and practical, but without dismissing real feelings and desires and fears.

———

Interesting post about humility — especially from the perspective of us ex-doormats.

Change

1. According to Manasclerk, people grow along different trajectories — I think he’s mainly talking about mentally, but that would include psychology and emotions, too, and would affect things like spirituality and philosophy.

People tend to feel most understood by those on the same trajectory, even if they are at different points along the path.

People on different trajectories tend to misunderstand even when they think they get it — his illustration is one person saying “I’m talking about these six feet” and the other person saying, “Yes, those two feet are important” — the other person simply doesn’t see the other four feet, no matter how the first person explains.

He seems to think there’s not much hope for what I would consider real relationship with people on other trajectories. Instead, the “higher mode” person (his language includes things like “higher” and “bigger” even though he insists it’s about different, and not about better) has to swallow or set aside or ignore those four feet and essentially deal with just the two feet the other person can see.

Some of what he says seems to fit with my own experience — and yet it just doesn’t seem right. And it certainly doesn’t seem very hopeful.

2. Another friend and I were chatting about something else, and I mentioned that I didn’t think people really change. Not in the essentials — if you’re a detail person, you’ll always be a detail person. If you’re not, you likely won’t develop an eye for details or a taste for them.

She thought that’s a horrible thing to believe, and to pass on to my daughter.

Later, I wondered — what if my daughter was dating a felon with multiple repeat convictions? Wouldn’t my belief in essential non-change be good, because it would motivate me to warn her about what she could (and could not) expect from such a man?

Even a less dramatic example. What if her boyfriend merely had some really annoying habits, or differences of values — those are unlikely to change, too, and she can’t go into the relationship thinking she can retrain him to be more like what she wants.

2.5 Habits. With enough repetition, passion, commitment, etc, it seems possible for people to form habits and break others. Is habit-forming an essential change, or a surface change? Does it change the heart? Can it? What role does habit-formation play in spiritual growth, sanctification, overcoming sin, or what-have-you?

This is partly why I lean more towards Calvinism than Arminianism. If I recognize that I am powerless to produce essential change in myself, than I am also freed from the burden of hopeless trying. I can instead trust God to do the change, and apply myself to my own work with a sense of freedom instead of obligation.

I can think, maybe depression really IS an illness, or physiological syndrome, at least, and not something that can be completely overcome by the process of habit-formation. Maybe it really is true that my depression is not the result of my lack of faith, or failure to pray with the right attitude; my faith may be lacking and my attitude may stink, but I’m not completely left on my own to do all the work of fixing those problems.

3. Change can alienate. Another posting of Manasclerk’s mentioned that following your true calling can alienate you from the respect of important people in your life, but that you end up finding other important people instead.

Another friend was talking about Wal-mart, and another about vegetarianism, and others about getting more green.

When I consider another little step in the green direction, or in the direction of knowing where things come from and buying accordingly (i.e. not supporting companies that rely on child labor or unsafe working conditions), or in the direction of spiritual growth, or in any other direction that seems wise and good and necessary, I worry about how it will affect my relationships.

I want to do what is right and good and true, but I don’t want to make myself even more difficult to be with than I already am. I don’t want to be one of those extremists that normal people look askance at and stay away from. To some folks, I already am.

———

What are your thoughts about change?

Sunday Some

1. Seeking

I sometimes have a hard time asking for help directly, especially from friends (including Mark). For about a month now I’ve been posting a request on facebook, knowing that most of my local friends are members and visit there regularly. Surely if any of them were able to help they would volunteer — and if they didn’t, surely it would mean they were unavailable. Because how could anyone read such a status, be available, and not offer to help? Unless they don’t want to help, in which case I should not bother them by asking directly — it would make everyone uncomfortable, right?

I suppose I knew all along asking directly is the way to go… I just dislike the discomfort.

2. Submission

Really, I mean obedience — but I’m being all cute and clever and using s-words.

How do you teach a willful child about obedience the right way?

It shouldn’t be primarily about my convenience, although it’s perfectly legitimate to take my needs and desires into account, like requiring Amy to do something else while I am working on a sewing project, for example.

It shouldn’t be about mere general compliance, because sometimes disobedience is the way to go — when the person asking for obedience is corrupt, or when the required action is not right, and so on.

I want Amy to obey us because she trusts that we are good and loving. I want her to obey us because she approves of what is right. And, to an extent, I want her to obey because it keeps life moving along a little more smoothly, making life more pleasant for her as well as for us.

3. School

Today at the church we were visiting, a family made a presentation about upcoming Vacation Bible School. The theme was that it’s not like school at all — instead, it’s fun. As if school is automatically and necessarily a bad thing. The school wellness program and the librarian reading boring books were two of the specific things ridiculed and scorned. What if one of the school librarians were a member of that congregation? Surely the many doctors that attend there would approve of healthy eating and fitness? Humph.

4. Sewing

Amy’s pink nightgown is too tight to go over her head and difficult to get her arms in the sleeves. It fits once it’s on, though. So I cut it down the back halfway and added a fudgy button placket. Hopefully that will work.

I also started sewing snaps onto my knitted chair, to keep the front leg sleeves overlapped by the seat cover.

Relationship idolatry

Our pastor at our church in Viriginia defined idolatry as anything you try to suck life from, other than God, the life-giver. In other words, there are a lot of things in creation that are very good, that we are allowed to enjoy, that are given as blessings. They become idols when we expect, demand, or try to wring more out of them than they are designed to provide.

I have a tendency to idolize relationship.

I care too much about what people think of me.

The one good thing I learned from my local therapist was that I think far too often “does so-and-so really like me” and not often enough about who I like and who I want to spend time with.

(I worry that I’ll be the clueless idiot who thinks everyone is their friend, who doesn’t see how everyone really hates them. Fodder for other people’s amusement and sick pleasure. But chances are, as that therapist said, if someone really hates me, they’ll make the message clear — I don’t need to hunt for it. It is highly unlikely that there’s a Chillingworth out there who wants to make me his Dimmesdale.)

As my friend Kitty reminded me via Facebook chat this morning, the key is to do what I love, and love myself. It’s more fun to be around people who are secure, confident, comfortable, and having fun, than around people who are desperate, clingy, turning themselves inside-out in effort to win and keep friends. Real relationship requires real persons — real selves.

(Of course, when I AM desperate — like when I’m in the throes of a dark depression — it’s okay to ask for help from my friends. That’s different from the desperation to find identity and security in the favor of others.)

I’ll add that the key to doing what I love and loving myself is to abandon my broken cisterns and go running to the well of living water — that is, to remember that in Christ I have real acceptance and belonging and security and favor and freedom.

What is encouraging?

One of the interesting things about reading blogs, especially the comments, and facebook stuff, too, is seeing how differently people do things. (It’s also why I liked Wife Swap back when we got ABC.)

One of my friends mentioned being discouraged about a project, and most of the commenters said things like “no, it’s going to be great.”

I already know I’m weird. One of the ways I’m weird is that this kind of encouragement can backfire for me. It sort of puts some pressure on reality, that it had better conform to everyone’s positive expectations or the world will end. Sometimes the way it’s phrased doesn’t help — “no negativity!” to me sounds like an order to deny, repress, or otherwise get rid of anything unpleasant, as if unpleasant things could be wished or willed away.

What works better for me, as I’ve mentioned here before, is to acknowledge first of all that what I fear may actually happen, and secondly to affirm that even the worst case scenario won’t destroy me. This approach allows me to fully feel my negative feelings — fear, anger, despair — and to face the specifics of the potential circumstances that provoke those feelings, without being overthrown by them. It encourages me to practice faith in a good and loving God who carries me through anything, rather than faith in a particular outcome God may or may not provide.

Sometimes I try to encourage my friends in the same way that works for me. Sometimes I wonder if they think I’m actually trying to discourage them, as if by acknowledging that the bad thing they fear may in fact happen, I’m wishing that it would. Or that such acknowledgment will open the door through which the bad thing can come. I hope that’s not how my efforts come across. And I need to remember that in the same way, other folks mean well when they try to tell me (or my friends) not to think negatively.

Weekend begins

Today’s Friday — the official beginning of the weekend. This one’s a bit busy.

Amy and I had some morning time to ourselves — we read, played music, danced, got dressed, ate breakfast, made beds. Just as I started making cookies — on an unusual whim — our Friday Few playdate friends arrived. We had a lovely time overall, sharing conversation, lunch, pictures, wool, the cookies, and, to an extent, toys.

Wool — I made her some wool pants: a pair for the baby soon to come, and another for the two-year-old. She gets the same kind of rash Amy tends to get, and I remembered that even today’s modern breathable waterproof wraps seemed to make the rash worse, and wool covers seemed to help. She brought me a wool vest she’d accidentally shrunk / felted — I might be able to make two pairs of wool shorts out of it, one for Amy and one for her little girl.

Toys — For a while, especially before two years, Amy didn’t care all that much if someone played with one of her toys or even snatched one out of her hands. Lately, she’s been more protective of her things and her right of possession, and has been so threatened by the proximity of another child that she asks me to hold things (so another child won’t take them while she plays with something else) and falls into an arm-flailing sobbing reaction if anyone takes something she has or wants.

It is hard to know how best to a) protect my child’s sense of self and ownership and rights to defend herself, and b) not raise a selfish brat who can’t share. I’m not convinced that she’s quite mature enough yet to really “get” what sharing is about, and don’t want to force sharing, especially in any way that she might feel is death. At the same time, I want her to consider alternatives, compromises, and options — like I will hold one toy for her, but not an armful, and if she doesn’t want so-and-so to play with doggie, can she help so-and-so find another animal to play with instead, and turn-taking, and “you put it down and played with something else, so now she can have it.”

Next came naptime — and then, after some time playing in the driveway (a fenced backyard is nowhere near as interesting as the rocks at the street end of the driveway), Grandma and Grandpa P arrived.

And there was much rejoicing.

After dinner (why did the beans in my chili still have a bit of a hard edge to them — I cooked them long enough. Maybe something in the soaking water or something in the other ingredients hardened them.) Amy got some precious time alone with Grandma while the rest of us drove the borrowed truck (thanks, Tom!) to pick up the swingset. It took two trips — and we had to stop once to retrieve the slide from the road. (Why did we forget the bungee cords twice?) The tower part is now sitting upside-down near its desired resting place, while the swing beam and slide lie nearby. Tomorrow will be the assembly.

Amy has been beside herself with excitement and fussy overstimulated tiredness. It was sweetly funny to hear her insisting that she wasn’t tired.

Group

This will probably strike at least someone as funny. I think it’s funny, too.

I’ve never really been part of a group before — I mean a group like this, the playgroup Amy and I participate in.

Frankly, it’s a little confusing sometimes. (I know text doesn’t convey tone well — trust me, I’m writing lightly and with humor.)

There’s the weekly group playdate on Wednesdays — that’s not confusing.

Occasionally I’ll get together privately with one or two other moms and their kids — that’s not all that confusing either, although sometimes I have a hard time knowing how to communicate about it. What do you say when one mama asks what you’re doing this weekend, and you’re going to be getting together privately with another mama? I always thought it wasn’t polite to talk about exclusive plans in front of people who aren’t invited, but then again answering a question like that isn’t like just announcing my plans.

I recently started something I’m calling Friday Few. I like the large group on Wednesdays, but also getting together with just one or two others allows for a little more depth in conversation, and a little less chaos and noise, too. At first, before I started Friday Few, I tried inviting people individually, which was tricky, because if I invited someone (for Friday) on Monday, I might find out on Thursday that they weren’t able to come, and then I’d only have one day’s notice to try inviting someone else. (And I find it challenging to be flexible and gracious when things change on short notice.) So with Friday Few I use a Facebook note, and whoever signs up first for a given date is scheduled. It keeps the playdate very small, but it doesn’t hurt any feelings because everyone is still invited.

Tomorrow is the first one someone signed up for. She asked if we could meet at her house instead of mine, and we’re probably going to take the strollers around to the town-wide yard sales. Two playgroup mamas are having sales, and others will likely be shopping, too. It shouldn’t be awkward if we run into anyone, since the Friday Few thing is public and all. And yet… (rolls eyes at self).

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only person who feels awkward hearing about someone else’s plans with someone else, or running into people who are hanging out with each other, or anything like that. I know that people get together, and I’m not always included, and sometimes I am, and both are okay. And yet — I still feel so adolescent sometimes about all this social stuff!