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 Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?

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...

The words coming out of my mouth

  These days I wear a mask. I don't wear a mask all of the time, only when I am indoors or unavoidably up close with people who I don't usually interact with.  I wear one when I am ordering things, or buying things or attempting to enjoy some form of public entertainment.  I cannot rely on reading others lips. My lips are hidden. We ask each other to repeat.  We move our eyes or our whole heads to try and enunciate more clearly.  I say fewer words, more carefully chosen words behind the mask. Sometimes that is helpful, sometimes that just causes more confusion. I walked into the woods. I did not need a mask.  I only saw a few other people and they were distanced. Masks were unnecessary. After so much talking and not talking and avoiding talking out loud I am forced to examine when I speak and when I choose not to. This is not a bad thing since I can be an insufferable chatter box, just a new thing for my brain to adjust itself to. When I am not standing aro...