Month: January 2013

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Swimming Through Jello

Dealing with depression can be like trying to swim in jello that’s setting up in the refrigerator.

Unless you are paying really close attention, it’s easy to not realize you are having a hard time moving until it’s too late and you’re really, really stuck.

The thing is, things go along normally for a long time. And then gradually things get harder to deal with. Situations get more confusing. Normal interactions seem to take double or triple the work that they should.

But life goes on. Appointments have to be kept. Diapers need changing. Food needs preparing. So I take Ellen Degeneres’s advice and, “Just keep swimming.”

But sometimes, it’s so hard.

And during the jello sort of weeks, I tend to be less graceful than I might be at other times. I flail a bit, calling people at awkward moments, forgetting to call back at others, and generally just incapable of smalltalk.

Sometimes while I am flailing, I will try to reach out for whatever is closest. Sometimes I grab the hand of someone without being able to really explain why I need to be on the phone for a half-hour, or whatever. Sometimes people don’t get it. That’s okay. It’s not their fault; not their job to pull me out of the jello.

But sometimes, people get it. This takes many forms. A meal dropped off, an encouraging word or even just a “Like,” or being willing to stay on the phone with me when I lose my train of……………….

They will smile reassuringly, firmly grab my hand for a minute, and help me get a little further through the jello. They are the hands of God, whether they realize it or not, and the value of these people can NOT be overstated.

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How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Children

So, I’ve had several interactions in the past few months that have left me with the unsettling feeling that either my kids actually are the worst (because of my parenting), or that the person I’ve just been speaking with is being, well, kind of a tool.

One thing about being an extrovert is that I thrive on positive interaction. People often assume that being an extrovert means that I am naturally great at being around people all the time. It doesn’t. It just means that I really, really want to. And that I really, really want it to go well. In parenting circumstances that translates into me trying to make my kids conform to ways of being that I think other people want or expect so that they will be happy when we are together (I really, really want other people to be happy. Really.). When I fail, when I can tell other people aren’t enjoying my kids, it (falsely) seems to boil down to either that I’ve failed at being a friend, or at being a parent, or both.

I don’t want to think that people I care about are self-absorbed or clueless (and even if that happens to be true for a second, we all have our moments and no one is just one thing). But it’s also entirely stressful to continually worry that my family stresses other people out or bothers them. So I try to make it better. Maybe if I just let them watch more tv, then I can have un-interrupted phone conversations. Maybe if I stop letting them watch tv, then they won’t ask for videos. Maybe if I let them eat whatever they want, they’ll just enjoy parties and other people won’t have to be weirded out by the crazy hippie mom. Maybe if I tried harder to keep artificial coloring out of their diet, they would have better impulse control and wouldn’t, you know, be kids.

Enough.

Who is my parenting for?

Is it for the random people in the grocery store who make an irritated face as they have to walk around my four year old because she is intently looking at something in an aisle-way and didn’t realize that they were waiting for her to move (ahem-grownups, use your words…)? Is it for people who I can’t talk to without getting interrupted every minute and a half? Is it for anyone who has ever expressed frustration about my kids’ behavior?

The answer to all of these questions is no.

My parenting is for my children. That sounds cheesy, but it’s true. If I spend all this time and energy trying to make sure other grownups (even ones that I like very much) are approving, then I will ultimately benefit no one. I probably won’t even satisfy the person I am trying to please; so far my children, like me, seem to be themselves no matter what they try to do to fit in. If I try to incorporate everyone’s opinion into my relationship with my children, I will teach them that pleasing other people is more important than being clear about who I am. And if I teach them to please people all the time, they will not learn to be themselves in the world. Or, at least, it will take them a lot of extra work. I mean, learning to be who you are meant to be on the planet is hard enough without your mother muddling it up trying to make sure some judgy lady at the library can get to the magazine stacks faster. I am a person of faith, which means that as I go, I trust that God will teach me and lead me into truth. Sometimes that will be in the form of a friend sharing something true with me. Sometimes it won’t.

One final thought. Just to be clear, getting input from a variety of sources is great, and necessary. There is so much helpful information out there to be had. And so many wise people who have such great ideas that really can help me to be better. I welcome constructive idea sharing. It is how I learn and grow as a person, as a parent. I need to be challenged; I crave it. But I’m really kind of over trying to make sure that everyone I meet is pleased by how I parent my kids.

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…But Not TOO Well….

This is the other side of the coin regarding a post that I wrote a little bit ago entitled Speak Well of Your Children. There it is, if you want to go look at it.

I just wanted to share this incident that happened at the library this morning, lest anyone think I am advocating for the kind of Stepford parenting that has many people feeling isolated.

A meeting of moms and kids had just let out and several moms were still standing around chatting. I looked up from my conversation to see that S had climbed up and was standing on a chair.

I said in a clear voice, “UH-OH. Hey, man, please sit down.” And then he actually did. I know, right??!!

Another mom heard me say this and looked over to watch my son angelically comply with my kind request and I watched as surprise, then admiration, then a little panic flashed across her face.

I quickly blurted out, “It’s really important that you know there are at least 500 other “uh-oh”s behind that one, and most of them were not said that calmly or heeded that quickly. Or at all. I really want you to know that right now.”

Blessed relief. “Oh, thank you for saying that. I was going to say…well I don’t know, but thank you.”

People, listen up. NO ONE’s children are always as well OR as poorly behaved as we experience them to be in any one moment.

UPDATE: J would like it to be known that at the time this photo was taken he was sympathizing, not actually throwing a tantrum himself. Just in case any of you were confused about that.

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An Open Letter of Apology

Dear Curtis,

We haven’t spoken in a while. I see your posts on Facebook sometimes and it makes me smile to remember some of the things we did…remember falling asleep on top of our music history books and then hoping some of the information had seeped into our brains by osmosis? Sneaking out of aural training class because the thought of MacGamut was almost painful compared to the idea of Chipotle on the Oval….you were one of my favorite friends in college.

But there were other things going on, too. When you came out to me, I felt like you were sharing this very vulnerable, scary thing for you, and I didn’t have a clue how to handle it. There are a lot of things that I wish I’d said differently to you. The only thing I can say is that I was doing the best I could with what I knew. But still, I am so sorry, my friend.

When you told me, my first reaction was to look for someone else who had some experience dealing with this. I heard about an anonymous group of guys that met to talk about “that stuff” (I still don’t know what they actually talked about, but I asked around my local church without using any names for “a friend” and was told to suggest you seek them out, and like a good little soldier I passed along the message). When I told you, you said, “Yeah, R said his mom tried to send him to a group like that. It didn’t help him.” I honestly don’t know that I wanted them to “fix” you or “pray away the gay” or anything like that, but I knew I didn’t have anything wise or helpful to say. I was terrified that this thing I’d always been taught was wrong was happening to you. I’m saying it happened to you because I don’t think you chose it. But you were becoming one of Them.

Suddenly abstract positional statements like, “Homosexuality is wrong” had a very dear face associated and I kind of freaked out. What does this mean for me? How do I react to this? How do I love my friend after something like this?” It fills me with shame to admit that this was my reaction. Even now it brings me to tears to think about it. I wish I could go back and shake myself and say, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU!! Your friend is going through something really hard and confusing and you’re worried that, what, you might have to take a stand against him? How selfish are you?”

Luckily those initial freak-outs were not the end of the story. The sweeping judgments were not able to stand up under the light of true friendship. I had a lot to learn (I still do) but I was clear enough to at least know that I would not stop being your friend because of this.

Then later (gulp), I invited you to my local church…you and K came one week because they had made an announcement: “Some College Preacher will be talking about Homosexuality. Bring a friend.” Well, this may help our conversation. Someone more qualified than me will address this issue. At the end of the meeting, K stood up and said, “I gotta get the HELL out of here.” I was shocked by that, as SCP had been outlining rhetoric I’d heard my entire life. Like a good little evangelical, I followed up with her the next day and she said a bit tersely (I don’t blame her), “Thank you for inviting me to your lecture.” I am sad about having put her in that position, but that conversation permanently altered the way I think about the Church, what it is, and what it is not. I am so grateful to her for that. But that’s another letter.

When you told me that you were researching what the Bible says about homosexuality, and that you thought the Bible was very clear, I agreed without really giving it much thought. I didn’t really dig into the words with you, because I assumed I already knew what they meant. I wish I hadn’t. Whether I reached the same conclusion as before or not, I should’ve looked into it more. I was afraid and selfish and I’m sorry.

Still, after all that, you stayed my friend. You even took me to my first gay bar…I have to say, it wasn’t the seedy den of iniquity I had expected. Not to perpetuate a stereotype, but it was super clean and people were generally very well dressed. And you know what? A girl can enjoy a drink and clever conversation without skeazy guys hitting on her. It was tremendous. But one thing you said to me then has really stuck with me. You said that I was better at being a Christian than you were.  At the time, (knowing myself) I knew that was absurd, but I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said nothing. Maybe a little part of me was afraid it was true, in which case I knew a lot of people who I considered to be better at a lot of things than me so we would both be screwed. You were just reflecting back what the culture taught; that good christians aren’t gay.

If I could go back and change one thing, I think that moment would probably be it.  Maybe this is the part where I’d shake you. Maybe I’d even laugh. “Have you met me? Sometimes I’m the worst. I’m definitely NOT better at  being a Christian than you.” I’d say matter-of-factly. I wish I had been able to encourage you to just seek God and trust that God could take care of what you needed to know. Why did I feel like I needed to stand in between and make sure you matched up to my list of qualifications for relationship with the Maker of both of us? Why did I think it was necessary to decide what I thought about your life? You are my friend and I love you. I have to think that God is better able to sort out what you need a talking-to about than I am.

A couple of closing thoughts: Even if the Bible is as clear about condemning gayness as I believed growing up (before I knew any actual gay people), even if it is actually a sin, so what? What does it help to continually point it out and take a stance on it? There are a lot of other things roundly condemned in scripture. Where are the protest signs that read “God hates Gossips” or “Impatient people will BURNNNN”?

I have come to believe that the Bible was not meant to be a weapon against my neighbors, and I am sorry for the way I publicly participated in it being used as such against you. And so, with fear and trembling, I hope you will accept my public confession and apology.

Your friend,

Kat(i)e