Learn to figtht

I've realized recently...over the last couple days, in fact, that one of the most important skillsets someone can build is learning how to fight.

I don't mean physical fighting. I'm sure that's important sometimes. Knowing how to take care of yourself physically is definitely important, but that's not what I'm thinking about. What I'm talking about is learning how to argue without breaking a relationship.

Reasons Matter

Today at work, I had a very clear demonstration of how, for me, the reason I'm doing something matters.

The cost of sarcasm

A week or so ago at work, I realized something. Hearing sarcasm can reprogram your brain.

At least, it reprogrammed mine.

One day, my boss thanked me for something, and I thought she was criticizing me. It took a minute to realize that she was actually thanking me, and telling me that she appreciated what I was doing. Why did I hear it as a bad thing at first?

This isn't the first time it's happened. It's happened when I was told "Thanks" in a text, and my first thought was "What did I do wrong?" I had to actively decide that I would take the text at face value, and believe that it was meant in a positive manner. (Turned out, that time the "thanks" actually was meant sarcastically, and it hit me that much harder when I found out.)

So, my boss is sometimes a bit brash and sarcastic, or at least her tone sounds like it. On that particular day, there was something that should have been done an hour or so earlier, and she asked for it to be done. (Someone else had said they were going to, and I hadn't realized it wasn't done yet.) So, when I went to do it, and she came downstairs and found me in the middle of it, she said "Thanks for not being lazy about this."

The way my brain interpreted her statement at first was "Why didn't you do this an hour ago? Why were you wasting time folding napkins when this needed to be done?"

What she really meant was "Thank you for coming down and doing this. None of the other servers came, and it needed to be done. I appreciate it."

So, why was my first instinct to hear it as a bad thing?

My only guess is that I've heard people use sarcasm so often that, especially if I'm feeling insecure at the time, it's easier to believe the implied criticism. I've also heard a lot of people be polite to someone in person, then cutting and critical about that same person later when the person isn't around. I've been with a friend when he answered his phone and blatantly lied about where he was or who he was with...and then expected me to trust what he told me.

Whether sarcasm is directed at me or not, I learn from it. I learn that the person is sarcastic, and that the words they use don't always mean what they actually say. I have no reason to expect that I would be treated differently than anyone else, so I will hear things through that sarcasm filter, whether I should or not.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one to react that way. So, when your first instinct is a cutting, sarcastic remark...think about what that remark may cause later. Is it really worth it?

The lessons we learn, and the lessons we teach

This has been on my mind this week. More than just this week, actually, but it's been working its way out in my head more this week.

It started with my youngest daughter. We were discussing how to build a new habit...trying to get her to write down things we're asking her to do so she remembers to do them if there are multiple tasks needing to be done. We gave her a small notebook to carry around with her.

The question came up "so, what happens if she doesn't do it."

Hmm.

Instead, we went with "what happens when she does."

Instead of punishing her when she fails, we're giving her incentive to succeed.

No, she won't get incentives or treats for accomplishing things every time...but to begin with, I don't see it as a problem. In fact, I think it's a good thing.

There is a lesson here that goes beyond the skill/habit we're trying to build. There is a lesson here that can go to the core of how she sees the world as she grows up.

Will she learn to do things because success can bring something wonderful? Or will she learn to do things because failing to do them brings something to be afraid of?

Will she learn hope, or will she learn fear?

At some point, I learned fear. When I want to do something, one of the first thoughts that goes through my head is "what happens if I make a mistake?"

I don't think "What new, wonderful thing could I find?" I think, "What happens if I make a mistake?"

I became afraid of failure. I became afraid of any kind of failure...including making people upset. I stopped making decisions based on what I wanted, or pursuing dreams...or even just ideas that could lead to dreams. It wasn't worth it.

The idea of failing, of losing, of disappointing people...of not being what they expected...became too much of a risk.

This happened more with some people than others. The more I cared about someone, the more I feared that person's disapproval, and the more I let the fear of that disapproval guide my choices.
 

"Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost. Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost."

I learned not to fight. I learned that my happiness wasn't worth the pain that was caused by disappointing other people, or making choices they didn't agree with. I learned it wasn't worth the risk.

I don't know what, exactly, taught me that. Chances are, it was a lot of little things that built up over time. Eventually I learned that life was easier if I didn't risk disapproval. If I didn't try for things I wanted, if they conflicted with what other people wanted. The possible rewards for success rarely outweighed the likely (in my head) cost of failure.

I learned the wrong lesson.

I never want my children to learn that lesson.

I want my children to learn that making choices and taking risks is more likely to lead to reward than to pain. I want my children to learn that mistakes happen, and that the consequences of those mistakes, most of the time, are not so severe that they can't be overcome.

Yes, there are times that mistakes are deadly. When something is truly a matter of life and death, then it's important to make that assessment and take extra care with the choice. However, most things are not life and death, (for most people. Yes, there are exceptions.)

So...back to where I started...

Which have we learned through our lives? Have we learned to fear mistakes and the unknown? Or have we learned that wonderful things come from taking risks?

What are we teaching our children? Are we teaching them to fear the consequences of failure? Or are we teaching them to strive to do better, and enjoy the benefits of success?

I have lessons to unlearn. I wish I had learned the right ones in the first place, but all I can do now is try to learn them now.

Bracelets

A year ago, I was going through some pretty rough emotional trials.

Someone dear to me wanted me to have something physical I could touch when I needed strength, and needed to remember I wasn’t alone.

What he came up with was a bead. A single, special bead, and he had a matching one. These beads were small, unassuming glass beads, but contained soil from the place where we first started really getting to know each other.

A bead is easy to lose, but a bracelet is less so.

So, I made two bracelets. They didn’t match at all, other than the fact that in the middle of each was a small, unassuming glass bead, which didn’t quite match anything else on the bracelet.

I’ve worn that bracelet most of the time for the last year. If I wasn’t wearing it, it was generally in my pocket. (A commercial kitchen is no place for wrist jewelry.)

These bracelets sometimes seemed psychic. Some days, they’d jump off our wrists at random times in random places, but always turned back up. Other days, no matter what happened, they held tight. I had created them with multiple strings/knots/points of failure...and there were times, particularly when one of us was particularly upset with the other, that one or both of us would realize that the strings on the bracelet were broken. Maybe just one string...maybe just one was left.

The relationship with this other person was ended about a week and a half ago.

The other day, I realized that the strings on my bracelet were still holding strong. This gave me hope...but I think, perhaps, it shouldn’t have.  I continued wearing it.

Yesterday, partway through the day, I took my bracelet off.

Today, I put it in a bag of salt, put the bag in a box, and closed it away for a while. If the connection needs to be severed, it needs to be severed. Acceptance is slow...but it’s coming.

What if...

What if your waitress was wearing a pentacle instead of a cross?

What if you knew the person you were interviewing for a new job or for a promotion was in a consensually non-manogamous relationship?

What if you found out your child's friend's parents were involved in a BdSm lifestyle?

Would it make a difference?

Would you tip the same?

Would you hire/ promote him/her?

Would you still let your child play at the friend's house?


What if you found out one of your friends was a "furry"?

What if you found out that "Mark and Pam", the married couple that always seems to be at your brother's house is actually involved in a swinging relationship with your brother and his wife?

What if you found out that your sister enjoyed being tied up?

Would it change how you felt?

Would you suddenly think your friend was weird?

Would you condemn your brother's lifestyle?

Would you feel awkward around your sister?


What if people weren't really as conservative and clean-cut as you thought?

Would it matter?

Would you rather know, or not?

fear

When I started this blog a few years ago, one of the first things I wrote was about the fact that there would be "no more hiding; no more masks".

What happened?

Over the last year (or just over a year), I've been closing off more and more and sharing less and less of what's going on in my life. That's not just on this blog, but it's in person, too.

Why?

I've been afraid.

I've been afraid of what would happen if people knew who I really was or what was going on in my life. I was afraid of the repercussions for other people.

I was afraid that some of my less conventional beliefs or choices would be bad for my husband's career, or mine. I was afraid that my girls' friends' parents would decide that they didn't want their children being friends with mine.

I didn't want who I am to reflect badly on my family.

Irrational fears? Maybe. Probably. But still very real, and very paralyzing.

It means that I haven't been able to open up to people. It means that I haven't been able to feel like I had any close friends that I could really trust.

When things were going well, I couldn't share it. When things were going badly, I couldn't ask for help. There wasn't anyone who could understand, because no one got all the pieces of the puzzle.

It's lonely.

Incredibly lonely.

I'm afraid of disapproval from people I care about and respect. I'm afraid that who I am will either get me rejected, or will hurt people I love.

I'm afraid to be vulnerable.

I'm afraid to be alone.

That fear led to choices which led to loss.

Fear and depression are great friends. They're two sneaky dark voices in the back of my head. Neither one leads to good places...but they are both very hard to ignore.