No Contact

Last week, I unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation between two 40-something women and a teenage girl. The girl was discussing plans for an upcoming trip to a less-developed country, concerned about how she would contact her parents throughout the adventure. My ears perked up when I heard one of the older women say something like, “You may not believe this but there was a time when we didn’t have cell phones and weren’t able to make contact all the time. We would have to track down a pay phone, and until then our parents just had to hope we made it to wherever we were supposed to be.”

That’s how I grew up. No cell phones, no email, no text messages. When we walked out the door, we were gone until we came back. Our parents may have jumped when the phone rang, but they didn’t spend the evening constantly checking their smartphones for messages. After-school arrangements had to be made in advance, and if things changed, our parents had to call the school to leave us a message. We carried dimes (and then quarters) in case we needed to make an emergency phone call. Now I can’t remember when I last saw a pay phone.

These days many kids have cell phones, often provided by parents who feel they can allow their children more independence if they can be reached in an emergency. But as I listened to this conversation, I got to thinking: Do cell phones actually discourage independence? Are they really serving as a kind of tether to keep us more connected? And is there an unhealthy temptation to use them as a sort of “Big Brother” device?

When my siblings and I went out, our parents had to trust we were going where we said we were. They could call ahead to friends’ houses to make sure parents were there, or drive us to the movies, but they couldn’t call our pocket an hour later and listen for the sounds of the popcorn machine in the background.

As for us kids, we had to be more self-reliant. Without mom a simple phone call away, we had to solve our own problems, find alternate resources, maybe sometimes do without. We couldn’t get advice on mixing whites and colors from our dorm laundry room or put our teacher on the line if we had a conflict. We couldn’t call mom while she was driving home from work to ask her to bring snacks over to rehearsal. If we were stranded after a game we had to find our own way home. Sure maybe it wasn’t safer, but it required some independent thought.

And what about trust? Do cell phones have a negative impact on that too?

In my work as a therapist, I can’t tell you how often cell phones get mentioned as a cause or accelerator of relationship problems. Countless clients have told stories of trust breeched by spouses looking through their call records or reading their text conversations. Would we read another person’s diary or listen in on their home phone calls as casually as we may scroll through their cell phone?

How about personal boundaries? Does the fact that we can access people all the time mean that we should have access them at any time?

Again, clients complain of partners who constantly “check up” on them by repeatedly calling their cell phones. When we call our partner’s cell phone and they don’t answer, how many of us start suspiciously questioning “Where is he?”, “Who is she with?”, or “What are they doing?”, rather than calmly thinking, “She must be busy”, “I’m glad she’s not rudely interrupting a conversation to answer the phone,” or “Oh yeah, he’s driving.” We seem to have a lot more tolerance for home answering machines than unanswered cell phones.

Maybe some of this mistrust is well-placed. Clearly cell phones can help people deceive. Instead of being chained to the kitchen by a curly cord, we can now have private unwatched conversations. Some of us may engage in more deceptive behavior like deleting call records and text messages, quieting down partying friends, or sending calls to voicemail to be dealt with later (“Sorry I missed your call, I had to turn the ringer off in the library.”) I hope that is the exception, not the norm.

My children aren’t old enough to have cell phones yet, so maybe I’m naïve, but right now I’m thinking I may just send my kids out with a quarter in their shoes.

Groundhog Day

So Groundhog Day has come and gone again.

For centuries, people have waited for Punxsutawney Phil or the like to predict the joyous onset of an early spring or the gloomy extension of winter. The custom apparently goes back to pagan times, and though I don’t believe there has been any correlation between the rodents’ predictions and meteorological reality, we still observe this odd “holiday” every year.

But thanks to the 1993 Bill Murray movie of the same name, Groundhog Day has more recently become a catchphrase describing the experience of repeating the same event over and over again. In the movie, an obnoxious news anchor finds himself reliving the same day (which happens to be Groundhog Day) again and again. Each day he is awakened at the same time by Sonny and Cher singing "I Got You Babe" on the clock radio at the inn where he is staying while covering the Punxsutawney groundhog story for his television station. He encounters the same individuals and stumbles over the same hurdles throughout the day, which is particularly frustrating for him as he detests both his news assignment and the locals.

As the mother of two young children, I can relate to the Groundhog Day experience. Often, it seems like every day follows the same routine: Wake up to the sound of children eager to start the day if not exactly to go to school, eat/dress/pack/don shoes/zip coats and trudge out “en famille” to put the eldest on the bus. Feed/change/bathe/dress/play with the baby until naptime. Cram all household chores into limited naptime. Finally sit down just in time for the wake up cries. Feed/change/play with baby until school bus returns at 3:08 pm. Son, dropping backpack, coat, shoes and socks along the way has snack/does homework/plays then returns the way he came, redressing for afternoon activity. Coats/carseats/chauffering until dinnertime, infamously known as the witching “hour” (though it lasts longer) as I prepare dinner for tiring child and hungry adults while separately feeding tiring baby. Bickering ensues. Soon Dad returns, bedtime routines are followed, then it’s time to clean up and prepare to do it all again tomorrow.

The steps are the same, the arguments are the same. Sometimes it seems that the only difference is whether the load of laundry I toss in during naptime is whites or colors.

Weekends, sick days, and vacations are no different as there are still two children to be fed, dressed, entertained, and put to bed. Even if we do manage to go away, there is no real change. It’s just “taking the show on the road” as one mom I know puts it. The same job, even harder, with fewer resources and less familiar surroundings.

The sages of Wikipedia expand the definition of "Groundhog Day" to read “going through a phenomenon over and over until one spiritually transcends it.” This reflects the evolution of the main character in the movie Groundhog Day (named Phil, like the groundhog). At first, he uses his second chances at the day to take advantage of other people, having learned his behavior has no long-term consequences. But as his second chances become third, fourth, and fifth chances, he begins to realize how his different actions affect others and eventually find the merit in kinder, more empathetic behavior. I guess I’m working on that transcendence piece now, to find the bigger good in the daily mundane.

I have heard it said that for parents the days go by very slow (except, I might add, for naptime), but the years go by very fast. And I have noticed that as the kids get older and their days become more structured, it does seem that the weeks just fly by. (I mean, I’m still working on my to-do list for Christmas!)

Maybe it’s not so bad to get the chance to do the same thing over and over— to relive the good experiences like baby belly laughs and “I love yous”, and to get to correct our mistakes, or at least try alternate approaches to overcome parenting challenges or resolve conflicts. One mom I know recently said that her children are teaching her a lot more than she is teaching them. Maybe that’s the design.

It can still be kind of boring, but it’s never truly dull.

Resolutions

This year I resolved to start a regular exercise regime. I would be at the gym right now, but I had to write this column. And though I resolved to eat healthier, I’m subsisting on cookies and coffee to keep me awake into the wee hours so I can meet my deadline. I also resolved to submit my columns earlier, but I’ve managed to fill all my writing time creating to do lists and tidying up, even though I resolved to stop procrastinating, and to save cleanup for day’s end after the messers all go to bed. And you can see my resolution to stop making excuses isn’t going so well either.

So here we are, four days into the new year (at this writing) and the score is Old Habits-6, Resolutions-0.

Apparently, I’m not alone. Studies have shown that 40-45% of adults make New Year’s resolutions, but 25-30% are broken within the first week and half disappear within six months.

The most common resolutions center around improving health, finances, job situations, social connections, or organizational skills; learning something new; or helping others. All of these are admirable goals, and some are easier to accomplish than others. In addition, some people are actually wired for change more than others, so that may explain why some friends may make a major change effortlessly each year while others struggle for decades to change one thing.

Historically, I have not been very successful at keeping my resolutions, so this year I am going to try to apply some advice from experts and successful resolution-keepers as well my own past experiences, which I thought I would share with you:

First and foremost, the desire to change has to come from within. If you are trying to change to please somebody else, it probably won’t happen. So, “nag less” is not on my list.

Expect success. Many resolutions fail because people expect them to fail. Henry Ford once said, “Whether you believe you can do a thing or not, you are right.” So like the little engine, “I think I can.”

Be your own cheerleader. Some self-doubt is natural, but you can propel yourself past it with positive self-talk. I like to create a short mantra to combat my negative thoughts. Repeat it, write it down, post it on your bathroom mirror. For example, if you want to ask for a promotion, thinking “I deserve this” can keep you focused and calm your nerves. I’m going to post “Cleaning before dinner is a waste of time.” on my refrigerator to remind me to make better use of my valuable time.

Taking small steps works better than aiming high. I think one reason my resolutions rarely last through January is that my goals are too broad. “Eat better”, “Exercise”, “Write more”, and “Stop procrastinating” are all good objectives, but there is little guidance in those phrases as to how to make them happen. This year I am going to reduce the number of resolutions, and increase the specifics for each action plan. How will I create healthier meals? When will I exercise? Where do I want to get published? As for procrastinating? Well, “just do it” is my mantra for that one (because, truth be told, in the time it takes to write my “to do” list, I could have completed half the things on it.)

Change your environment, if necessary. You won’t be able to quit smoking if your main social circle is the smoker huddle outside your office. And you can’t write your novel sitting between children doing homework at the kitchen table.

Implement rewards after each small victory. But be careful. A reward should be something that furthers your success rather than returns you to old habits (e.g. buying a new outfit after weight loss rather than “treating yourself” to an ice cream sundae).

Secure solid social support. Revealing your resolutions to others helps make you more accountable, but be sure to choose supporters who will applaud your successes and accept your occasional setbacks. And if you’re chosen to support, remember to be a fan, not a critic.

Because there will be setbacks. Adjust your expectations, forgive your mistakes, and be patient. A behavior that has been established over decades is not likely to be changed overnight.

So if you come by my house in the afternoon and it’s a mess, congratulate me on changing my ways.

Unhealthy Competition

We all know them. That friend, or colleague, or family member who can, and does, compete with everyone about everything. No matter how bad your day, their day was worse. No matter how busy your weekend, theirs was busier. No matter how big your injury, theirs is bigger. No matter how great (or difficult) your children are, theirs are better (or worse). For these people, everything is a competition, whether it makes them look good or bad.

Most of us probably can identify this type fairly quickly, and either learn to avoid them or at least alter our expectations about their responses so that they don’t bother us so much. In these cases, we can limit our exposure.

But what about when the competitor isn’t so easy to avoid? What happens when your main competition is with the one you are supposed to care for most, your spouse?

Sometimes the competition is an unambiguous quest for superiority that is clearly measurable. Who is the better tennis player? Who gets paid more? Who wins Scrabble more often?

But oftentimes, the competition is more vague. Who is a better parent? Who works harder? Who makes the better decisions? This often expands to include a competition over “Who is the least appreciated?” with the overarching question then becoming “Who has it worse?” Ironically, the “winning” partner then feels superior. How warped is that? “My life is worse than yours! I win!

Competition can be out in the open, as when one spouse challenges another to a game or contest. (“I’m superior.”) It can be subtle, as with the wife who always has an opposing argument to her husband’s perspective, but presents it with a smile. (“I’m smarter.”) Or it can be covert as with the father who buys his child a new toy couched with the promise, “But don’t tell your mom.” (“Our child likes me more.”) It can even be subconscious as with the wife that promises to plan the weekly schedule with her husband to ensure a balance of childcare, but then repeatedly has last minute obligations that leaves him alone with the children yet another night. (“I’m busier than you.” or “My schedule is more important than yours.”)

Such competition does not build strong bonds between spouses. Instead it chips away at the core attributes of a good relationship including trust, respect, and love. Spouses may intentionally or subconsciously set each other up for failure, in order to be able to say, “I’m better than you” at the end.

Such competition can also be damaging to the family. When spouses compete for “favorite parent” status, they often undermine the other parent in the process. It may not be intentional, but I’d bet most of our children could tell you which parent lets them do/have/buy the most and where each parent’s insecurities lie, and trust me, they will use this against you.

So why do we compete with the one who is supposed to be our biggest ally? Aren’t we on the same team? A competition is a win-lose situation, so if you win, that means your partner must lose. Who’s going to want to stay around if they are always the loser?

If we view our relationships as a team, then we should be seeking ways to create win-win situations. We don’t have to agree on everything, but we can agree to disagree respectfully. Both partners can be acknowledged for their contributions. Nobody has to lose. Nobody has to give in. Nobody has to be humiliated.

Of course, this might mean we will have to acknowledge that we don’t know it all and sometimes we might have to ask for help. We might even have to admit that we aren’t always working harder, sleeping less, or feeling worse, and offer some comfort to our partner who is.

I read somewhere that marriage is not 50/50, it’s 100/100. We’re in it together, and if we feel unappreciated, it is likely that our partners do as well. What if we competed to see who showed the most appreciation for the other, who could make the other laugh most, or who could be the kindest? Now that’s a competition I could get into.

Focus On Happiness

One recent Sunday, I was flicking through the string of cable news networks when I heard a sound bite on CNN, “Studies find women are less happy than men.” I put down the remote.

According to the segment, several recent studies, including the General Social Survey which has tracked American’s mood since 1972, have found that women’s happiness is declining while men’s happiness is increasing.

As if to provide me with the perfect parenthetical comment, one of the male commentators said, “That’s because we get to live with them and they have to live with us.” I swear I did not write that myself.

But seriously, what is it that is bringing women down? On the surface, it appears that we have more opportunities available to us than ever before in history. Could it be that choices add stress rather than relieving it?

Marcus Buckingham, author of Find Your Strongest Life: What the Happiest and Most Successful Women Do Differently, thinks so. He says “Choice is inherently stressful, and women are being driven to distraction.”

In 1970, when women reported being happier than men, women had fewer expectations and more hope for the future. They compared themselves to other women, but focused on their home, their kids, their gardens. Now we compare ourselves not just to women but to men, and we assess our homes, our kids, our gardens, our careers, our activities, our ability to juggle multiple responsibilities, and so on.

Buckingham noted that women’s unhappiness grows over time. “Though women begin their lives more fulfilled than men, as they age, they gradually become less happy.” Perhaps this is because women tend to be “caretakers”, and as their families add members, the amount of caretaking grows exponentially. In addition, we now find ourselves taking care of our aging parents along with our toddlers.

In a recent article on this topic for The New York Times, Maureen Dowd argued that women take things more personally than men and are harder on themselves when they have to split their attention amongst all the important things that are crowded into their lives. They build stronger personal attachments with others and have greater regrets about losing these attachments. They also experience more pressure than men to maintain an attractive and specifically youthful appearance as they age, and have fewer options for finding companionship later in life.

Now, I am not using this space to send a message to our men about our tough lives, to reiterate that women do substantially more than men in the household (though this has been proven again and again in research studies, even when both spouses work outside the home) and to request greater appreciation for our efforts. Not this time.

This time I want to send a message to women about how we live our lives, to encourage us to do what feels good for our families instead of what we think we should do, to stop comparing ourselves to our neighbors (who more often than not are hiding their completely understandable flaws behind their perfectly painted white picket fences), to slow down.

For a start, let’s cut down on the multi-tasking.

We may impress ourselves with our ability to juggle multiple tasks and children, to cook dinner and clean up the kitchen at the same time, to email while helping our teen with her homework, or catch up on phone calls while swinging our son in the park. But how many of us collapse at the end of a day of non-stop activity, only to wonder why so many things that had been started remain incomplete. How many times do we struggle to remember exactly what our child told us about his school day, or to recall what we meant to write in the calendar after that phone call, or just where we put down that glass. If we really focused on it we might realize that each interaction got a little less of us than we thought.

In his recent book, The Guinea Pig Diaries, A.J. Jacobs spent a month avoiding multitasking altogether. When he visited Darien Library last week, he told his audience that during this month he felt more connected to each task as he did it and found “…life was slowing down – in a good way….” Furthermore, he cited studies that showed multitasking makes us less happy and less [not more] productive.

As women, we often joke that men aren’t capable of doing more than one thing at a time. But perhaps they are having the last laugh. I don’t know about you, but I could use a few more of those.

Parenting for The Long Run

When I first learned that I was going to have a child, I knew that my life was going to change immensely. I knew it would be hard to adjust to the loss of freedom and lack of sleep, to sharing my every minute with another after more than a decade of self-indulgent adult living, to being responsible for keeping another person alive. I think I was prepared for the physical responsibility, but I don’t think I really understood the emotional responsibility that was in store.

Early on the focus was on the physical – feeding, diapering, sleeping schedules, vaccines. The need to discipline came next, but it began primarily around safety issues and clear cut do’s and don’t’s.

But as we entered the school years, it started to become clear that it is not enough for us as parents just to keep our children alive during their formative years. We are responsible for creating personalities that will be out there in the real world, existing and interacting with other people, crafting the future of the country and the planet, and likely continuing the cycle with families of their own.

Our actions and reactions will determine how our children handle rejection and frustration, respond to limitations, manage time, money and other resources, and interact with others. We teach the basics such as personal hygiene, healthy eating, and manners, but also shape character by demonstrating patience, integrity, responsibility, trustworthiness, gratitude, moderation, compassion, empathy. These are attributes that are not inherent. If we want our children to have them, they have to come from us.

And guess what? Our children aren’t always very receptive to learning them.

It seems like almost every situation that presents itself offers the opportunity for a lesson to be learned or a boundary to be established. I can give a treat or I can require it be earned to encourage acceptance of delayed gratification. I can feed the yet-again unfed goldfish, or I can let it die to show the consequences of lapsed responsibility. I can buy and wrap the birthday gift myself, or I can spend hours watching my child choose a gift and use an entire roll of tape to wrap it to teach him about budgeting, generosity, and presentation. I can pick up the messes or I can endure a whole lot of complaining while requiring all family members to clean up after themselves. I can dress the children myself in seconds, or I can watch as they put their pants on first backwards then forwards, and then their shirts on first backwards then forwards, then pull and twist on their socks and criss-cross their shoes until they have succeeded on their own.

My mantra for parenting is “Don’t let them do once what you don’t want them to do always” but I’m not always great at its implementation. Sometimes, I want to say, “yes, yes, yes” instead of “no, no, no.” Sometimes I want to do it myself instead of waiting for them to take initiative, be responsible, or master a new skill. Sometimes I want to drop the teacher role and just get on with the day.

Sometimes I take shortcuts, using tricks to get my children to do what I want while making it seem like they are getting what they want. I’ve replaced numerous torn books and broken toys with “repaired” duplicates. I’ve said, “I’ll be right back” as I tucked my son into bed, hoping he would fall asleep before I returned (hours later). I’ve “misread” directions to ensure a game is played with little conflict and a lot of speed.

I know I’m not alone with my tricks, as the many recent cookbooks featuring vegetables hidden in favorite foods fit in this category. On the surface, it seems like a happy compromise for all, but in the long-run the child does not learn to handle loss, go to sleep on their own, be a good sport, or make healthy food choices (remember, that restaurant mac ‘n cheese has no squash in it). And our job becomes harder, not easier.

Parenting for the long-term is much more difficult than I expected, but I hear the rewards are coming someday if I can just be patient. I wish I could just throw a tantrum instead, but that never got me anywhere.

No Bull(y)

Going back to school means a lot of things to children – new clothes and school supplies, earlier bedtimes, reconnecting with friends, busy but more regular schedules. Unfortunately, for some kids, going back to school can also mean fear, frustration, and anxiety, especially for those who are bullied.

When you think of a “bully”, you may picture the traditional big kid demanding lunch money from the little guy, kicking sand in his face, or knocking his books on the ground. But bullies come in many more shapes and sizes than that.

Bullies exist at every age group, in every socioeconomic class, in every culture. Some may fit the bigger and stronger stereotype, but others may not, like pretty young girls who ridicule those who don’t fit into their clique. Some may attack with words rather than with fists. And some may even hide behind a computer screen.

For parents of a bullied child, it is not always easy to know when to fight for them and when to stand back. Our instinct may be to come to the rescue, call the bully’s parents, or complain to the school, but as a first step, it may be better to offer guidance as to how our children can confront the bully on their own. Remember our ultimate goal is to prepare them for the bullies they will meet down the road (at college, in the office, or in their future family lives) when we will not be there.

We can help by offering our children a safe, non-judgmental ear, helping our children to understand that they never “deserve” to be bullied and that anyone who is participating is not their friend, and teaching our children how to assert themselves so they will not appear to be the easy target that most bullies seek.

Saying “Stop that” or “Don’t touch me” in a strong, loud tone may be enough to send a bully looking for a quieter victim. Role-playing is a great way to help our children practice what they want to say. Have the children play the bully first so they can use dialogue that they have experienced first-hand (this may also be an easier way for them to share what is happening). Then, in the child’s role, we can provide detailed scripts and illustrate different outcomes, which may enhance their confidence when it comes time to face their bully alone.

In middle school and high school, our children are less likely to come to us, even when they should, fearing ridicule and even greater bullying if they are revealed as a tattletale. It is at these times that the open communication we encouraged earlier may be critical.

This is also the time that cyberbullying becomes dominant. This is the newest and possibly the scariest form of bullying because it is anonymous and can spread like wildfire. If you tease somebody on the bus, you might be heard by forty kids, but if you tease somebody online (via email, instant messaging, blogs, or social networking sites), it can be seen by hundreds, who then may forward it on to hundreds more. And it may be received in silence as only the bullied child sees the words. [You and your children can get more information on protecting yourself from cyberbullying and other cyber threats at www.cybertipline.com and www.netsmartz.org.]

It is also important to remember that it isn’t only the bullied child that needs help. While the bullies themselves may appear to be extremely confident from the outside (especially to the bullied child), they are often masking their own insecurities by focusing attention on the flaws of another.

So when we hear that our children are the bullies, it may be better to curb our instinct to defend them and instead use this news as an opportunity. We can talk to our children to uncover the reasons for bullying. What are they feeling anxious about? What type of “threat” may the bullied child pose to them (smarter, prettier, teachers’ favorite?) How else can they get respect?

Finally we may need to look at ourselves. What type of model are we providing to our kids? Do we bully others in our own lives? If so, then our children may just be repeating what they see.

No child should have to go to school in fear, be they the bullied or the bully. Hopefully in this school year, they won’t.

Parenthood - The Second Time Around

How many times have you heard someone say, “My children are so completely different, it’s hard to believe they come from the same parents!”?

As a family therapist, and the youngest of six siblings myself, I can tell you that while the parents may be the same, the family experience is definitely different for each child. Think about the start of life for the eldest, the new star of the family living as the only child among adults, versus the situation into which a third or fourth child enters – no longer a novelty, often left waiting while another child is tended to, seeking an identity of their own (perhaps the “rebel” or “clown”) to distinguish them from the others. There may also be other differences in the family structure that affect the family dynamics for each child, like death or divorce, relocation, or a change to the family’s economic situation.

In addition, the home environment is different. While the first often lives in a relatively quiet space disrupted only by baby gurgles and nursery rhymes, subsequent children hear a cacophony of older siblings playing, fighting, and crying while parents are calling, commanding, and shouting (and maybe occasionally laughing). Baby Einstein videos compete with Spongebob Squarepants, and once carefully child-proofed rooms are now strewn with assorted little pieces of everything.

Yes, I can thoroughly explain to clients and friends how the environment into which each child is born differs. I can spew findings on birth order and the influence of gender and age differences on such findings. But until I had my second child, I didn’t realize the extent of the difference in the parents themselves.

We are all familiar with (and perhaps have been) the clichéd first-time parents – overly cautious, following all the rules to a tee, terrified that one mistake will be fatal to their jewel of a child, whose every moment is documented through still photos, video, and a detailed baby book. These parents then go on to have a second child (or third, fourth, fifth, etc.) who is left to cry a little longer (“good for his lungs”), gets the pacifier that fell on the floor (citing the “five second rule”), and will someday find his early photos tossed in a shoebox with his birth certificate. We think these parents have gained confidence while losing their last speck of free time, but they are the same people right?

These days when I look in the mirror, I’m not so sure. Because even when I can see through the dark undereye circles and past the gray hair, I still don’t recognize the woman looking back.

I was never a wild party girl, but at one time, I was at least a little adventurous, spontaneous, sometimes even silly. I was social and up to date on the world around me. Now I am tired, really tired. I’m distracted by the list of to do’s constantly running in my head. I second-guess any actions that may be at all risky and cancel plans that are too complicated to fulfill with an infant in tow. Basically, I am just no fun.

And I’m cranky. My firstborn didn’t hear a harsh tone from me until he was probably two years old. My second child, unfortunately, has heard that tone since we got home from the hospital, directed at her older brother when I let him push my buttons. I wonder what she must think when she sees the look of frustration on the face she trusts the most. Do I scare her with my rapid transition from lullabies to reprimands? Because sometimes I scare myself. And I wonder, as I’m sure do my children, “Who is that crazy lady, and what happened to the nice woman who was singing, dancing, and laughing moments ago?”

So what will this mean to my daughter as she grows? Will she be more obedient early on to avoid my “wrath”? Or will she instead rebel earlier in an effort to take control from the get-go? And will I ever recognize myself in the mirror again?

Sometimes I think it may be my memory of the past that is distorted. Perhaps I haven’t changed that much. But then I’m not sure which is worse – that I’ve lost my old self or that this is who I always was.

Three Sides to Every Story

As the saying goes, there are three sides to every story: your side, my side, and the truth.

I was reminded of this old adage while watching one of those countless reality television shows starring supposed “ordinary” people living out-of-the-ordinary lives which seem to involve an awful lot of catty fighting.

This particular episode offered an interesting opportunity to view an actual argument and then to get each participant’s viewpoint on what happened and what was said. As I watched each woman misquote their adversary and also themselves, draw conclusions about the other’s thoughts and intentions, and broadly label the other’s whole personality based on this one exchange (“juvenile”, “conceited”, “self-centered”, “insane”), I realized why there is so much misunderstanding in the world.

And then I wondered how often I have ascribed unintentional meaning to a statement spoken to me, how many times I have exaggerated details or tone when repeating stories of conflict to my friends, how many words I have misquoted to reflect what I heard more than what may have actually been said. I know I have the habit of saying, “I can’t remember the exact words, but the gist was…..” How often may the actual words have revealed a different intent than the “gist” I got?

They are hardly intentional, these misquotes and false assumptions, but if you think about it, it’s not very surprising that they occur. For one thing, in the heat of battle, our emotions are heightened and our natural instinct is to defend, so we may detect weapons when there are none.

Additionally, our expectations of how people will treat us can shape our view of how they actually do treat us, be they strangers or colleagues, siblings or spouses, best friends or worst enemies. How many of us can laugh off a personal comment made by a close friend (“they know us so well”), while the same comment may be viewed as a personal attack by a competitive colleague (“How dare they say that!”)? Who hasn’t noticed that on days when we’re feeling happy, we are less bothered by the attitudes of those with whom we interact along the way?

The women in the aforementioned television show had earlier concluded that they weren’t on the same wavelength and were never going to be friends, and so their every interaction contributed to the prevention of a friendship.

Finally, when we repeat our exchange to another uninvolved (though perhaps not unbiased) party, we are usually asking for confirmation of our assumptions, agreement with our conclusions, and empathy towards our reactions. So maybe we overstate the venomous tone of our opponent’s voice, or the nastiness of the words, or the frightening volume (not to mention intent that is up for interpretation in email correspondence, where tone is distinguished primarily by capitalization which can symbolize anger, emphasis, importance, or maybe just sloppy typing). And maybe we understate our own – just a bit.

It is possible to keep miscommunications from ruining our relationships if desired. We just have to double-check our conclusions. When we find ourselves reacting negatively to something said to us, we should stop and think about what may be causing the reaction. Did they really mean what we heard? Are we making assumptions about what they said or why they said it that may not be true? Might they be under stress or have some misinformation that is causing them to react with an overabundance of emotion? The only way we can know for sure is to ask. The question can be as simple as, “Excuse me, what did you say?” Or it can be more complex, like “It sounds like you said this. Is that what you meant?” It is only after we know that we have understood each other that we can respond fairly. (Of course, we can still over- or under-react, but at least we know we are reacting to the right input.)

We may never truly eliminate the third side of the story – that’s part of the nature of human interaction – but maybe we can achieve a little more overlap and a lot more understanding.

Clean Up

I have watched a lot of television over the past year, but just one scene has left an indelible impression. It was from the last season of Mad Men, a show set in the early 1960’s which features most of its male and female characters in the very traditional roles of breadwinners and housewives, respectively.

The background to this memorable scene is that the lead character’s wife, Betty, is sinking into depression after discovering her husband’s infidelity and then throwing him out of the house. But in this scene, she isn’t crying or raging, she isn’t hiding in a darkened bedroom or eating ice cream on the couch. She isn’t ripping up family photos or burning her husband’s things. She’s simply laying contact paper in her kitchen drawers.

It was such a different way to depict a woman trying to cope with the emotional turmoil of a life turned upside down, yet to me it still conveyed the severity of her pain, perhaps even more so than a traditional angry or sad reaction. Her stoic appearance as she tried to create order where there was really only chaos portrayed not a lack of emotion, but rather a silent outpouring of it. And I could relate.
When I feel like my life is getting out of control, I clean. If I am frustrated with my family, overwhelmed by schedules, or anxious about choices, I distract myself with soiled counters and unswept floors. The cleaning motions provide a physical outlet for my emotions while the mindlessness of the tasks allow my thoughts to wander or simply disappear for a while.

I openly admit to being a control freak (maybe some of you can relate). As such, one of the hardest things about having children has been giving up some amount of control to a little person who may not maintain my high standards. I went into parenthood thinking my guidance would be a welcomed force in the household and that nobody would even consider questioning my practicality and inarguable common sense, but it hasn’t exactly worked out that way. I’m learning to let go of the battles that really don’t matter so that I can be heard when they do, but it still requires a mighty biting of the tongue now and again (and again and again). And so I retreat to the kitchen where at least the dishes will go where I tell them.

Emptying the sink of dirty dishes, the garbage cans of pungent trash, and tables of long-accumulated clutter provides a temporary illusion of calm despite how I may be feeling on the inside (although sometimes my disgruntled attitude while doing the cleaning may delay the calming effect).

When I am facing major “to dos” or decisions beyond the everyday, my anxiety is further increased by disorganization, so that is when you’ll find me rearranging cabinets, streamlining files, or finally inserting last year’s photos into albums. During one particularly difficult time, I even did a massive overhaul of the basement. Fueled by hard rock on my iPod and a very heavy heart, I found the super strength to move the heaviest of boxes, old furniture, and construction debris on my own all in the name of order (though I regretted that the next day when my old achy body returned).

Of course, cleaning is a great way to procrastinate as well, one that provides an illusion of accomplishment. I’m not saying that the accomplishment is false, just that it can be misdirected. I clean when I need to clean, but also when I should be making that phone call, resolving that conflict, or taking that next step.

Unfortunately, the cleaning solution is also a short-lived one. The restoration of order lasts for but a moment, as day-to-day messes accumulate in endless cycles (empty dishwasher-fill dishwasher-empty dishwasher), and new messes arise without warning.

Nor is it ever truly possible to establish order in the long-term as we, our children, and our family continually change, and the family dynamics shift. Each year brings different needs, different decisions, and different anxieties, and it’s not always easy to anticipate the challenges that we or our children will face as we grow – together and apart.

But a clean counter is always a clean counter, and sometimes that is what I need to get me through.