Skip to main content

Straight from the Hip

I am not known for being direct. I'm known for being so circuitously indirect it pains even my closest friends.  In fact, I have taken great care throughout my life to take the indirect route.  Rather than telling someone my opinion outright or deal with conflict head on, I've practically devised an art-form in feeling my audience out and saying, maybe not what is only expected of me, but saying it in the most palatable way possible.  It's down to culture, partly, and gender roles and family dynamics.

However, all this changed when I had a child in my life.  It did not change completely, but substantially.  Almost right away and especially when I returned back to work, I noticed that I no longer skipped around the bush quite so automatically.  I suddenly did not have time for that any more. I literally had a fixed set of minutes within which everything had to begin and end.  There was no more time to pull taffy answers out of myself and others, I needed to get to the point. Luckily for me, the whole experience of parenting changed me just enough that I did not have to agonise much over my new responses.  They just popped out of mouth before I could catch them, which, in itself, was the first sign that things had changed. At first I was startled, but then a new wave of confidence in me has gradually begun to bud and flourish. I've got a long way to go.  I'll always be on a bit of a merry-go-round in conflict situations but I've come a long way, that's for sure.  How about you?


pre-children speak  
Well, that's an interesting idea.  Why don't we have coffee and talk about the possibilities...
You could do that...
Not a problem, my schedule can easily be moved around.
Saturday morning at 9 a.m.?  Sure!
Wednesday and Thursday evening workshops, in the same week?  That would be perfect.
I'm not really sure I can do that.  We'll see.


post-children speak
If you want to do that, that's great, go for it.
If I were going to do that I would reduce the number of goals by half.
I need to know now when you can come, so, the 2nd or 3rd, pick one.
Saturdays are not possible.
I do one workshop a month.
I can't do that. Sorry.(wow, did I just say that out loud?)



Comments

  1. good for you. sometimes it is difficult to accept that it is ok to say no.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...