I recently heard a radio host say, "To be unclear is to be unkind." In other words, tell people what you need, tell them how you feel. Lord, do I struggle with that. A couple of years ago, I realized that lying equaled love in my family. We lied to spare others of our feelings, of our anger or disappointment. We thought that by not expressing our needs or feelings, we spared others of the burden. We were supposed to take care of that shit ourselves. There's a certain nobility to that, a certain empathy, but it's incredibly isolating. Nothing ever gets resolved, there's always an emotional barrier, and we carry our baggage with us to our graves.
Of course, all that pent up energy has to go somewhere. There was a lot of behind-the-back talk in our family. Our family motto could have been, "don't tell your mother/father/sister/brother I said this, but..." Repression, toxic denial; it ain't good for you.
Don't tell; I should have the tattooed somewhere.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
I was often called "bossy" when I was a kid. A teacher once humiliated me at a school-wide award ceremony by giving me the "Lucy Award," i.e. Lucy Van Pelt, the bossy older sister in the Peanuts comics. I was never shy or demure and I paid for it. Bless this little gal. Bless the woman standing next to her.