Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Everybody hurts sometimes

San Diego, 5/22/2015

Hello, my dear fellow parents! This is an indeed special situation for me not to only have an inspiration to say/write something meaningful two days in a row, but to also squeeze the day so hard that some time in which I can actually do it, fell out.

The thing is when I started this blog I promised to write about the humor I find in my parenting experience. I promised you mothering and laughter. So to stay true to my promise I cannot write about an emotional hurt I experienced last night, because I didn't experience it as a mother but as a person, a human being, and there is nothing - absolutely nothing - humorous about it. I can't find a single angle from which what happened to me would be funny.

I can't write about loss. I didn't lose anyone to death, thank God, but I feel the loss as keenly. And so I hurt. But it is not the departure of that person that hurts me nearly as much as the way the departure happened. People come into and go out of our lives all the time. For some of them we thank God and our lucky stars they came into our lives, and for some we dance a mighty jig when we finally see the last of them. But sometimes... Some moments feel like providence, like the earth shook just to put us in the right place at the right time, or to quote John Childermass (from "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" by Susanna Clarke); " The sky spoke to me! Everything spoke to me!". We meet a person whose impact on our lives is priceless and detrimental one way or another. And sometimes we find ourselves unable to understand how we came to lose their attention any more than how we got to gain it in the first place. People are not often forthcoming with such explanations.

Human relationships are extremely fragile. We easily judge people by their covers, but even if we manage to be of the less judgemental and categorizing type, we are so afraid of being (accused of being) dubbed time wasters that we do not spend sufficient (quality) time with people we meet to get to know them and then make an informed decision whether they would be good company for us or not. But that is not the point here. The point here is how we communicate to a person that they are not a good fit and we want to end our connection, whichever kind of connection it is. Somehow, an alarmingly large number of people thinks that simply stopping communication in the middle of a sentence (and, of course, always without preamble or explanation) and walking away is totally acceptable. It is considered a social norm (hey - everybody does it, right?!), and we are expected to be skilled on both the giving and receiving end of that brutal stick. Its benefit would be to make our "skin thicker", as if the level of skin thickness positively correlates to the level of happiness.

What I can say in order to, at least partially, stay true to my promise to you, my dear readership, is that I am raising 4 children into future adults whom I would like to have more integrity and as much respect for other people's emotions as they do of their bodies and property. At the same time I would like them to be able to better handle the moments in which their emotions are hurt by people with no integrity and/or respect for other people's emotions, bodies and property. In other words, I would like them to be confident in the ways in which I am not, and to continue to have faith and hope and not withdraw their love in fear of getting hurt. But how do I teach them something I haven't learned myself?


  1. Dear Whimpering,

    As a Wondering Mother I often do just that - wonder. I wonder about love, life, friendship, my job, broken arms in the ER, the dishes, school books, late night arguments, cuddles in the morning and the grocery list. Thank you for making me feel less like Alice from time to time.

    1. Dear Wondering Mother,

      Thanks for reading my blog! And remember, any time you start slipping down that rabbit hole, there is a Mad Hatter (aka Yours Truly) waiting there to hold your hand when you need it so we can climb back up together :)

      Yours truly,

      The Whimpering Mother