This is just a simple bit of advice about communication. So often we feel that we are being misunderstood. No one understands us. No one gets us. Maybe it's because we aren't speaking the same language. Or your language is not the same as the people listening to you. Or, more accurately, your reality, and the language that comes from it, is different from the reality of the person with whom you are speaking. Think about it. Perhaps you are misunderstood because you can't put yourself in the other person's shoes. You can't describe your reality in a way that is meaningful to them.
Enter the dog. The dog likes to play with you. You like to play with the dog. Sometimes it gets beyond fun and the fangs and claws start to hurt. You say "OW!" and Fido gnaws harder. You squeal and run away, Spot bounds after you. Your perspective: you and your lovable fur ball were playing and it got out of control. Woofer's view: They were playing with their favorite person, it got to be really fun, their person squealed happily, and started an awesome game of chase.
Watch a mother dog playing with her puppies. They enjoy playing. Sometimes it gets out of control. She handles it in a very distinct way that the puppy completely understands. She bites them. Gently but firmly on their muzzle. Play stops. Lesson learned. The mother dog speaks the same language as the puppy, obviously. But more than that, she understands the puppy's reality. She was there once herself.
Contrary to the title, I am not suggesting that you actually bite your dog, or anyone else for that matter. What I am suggesting is to think outside of your situation. Sometimes when we feel the most misunderstood it is because we have cut ourselves off from everyone else. With a little less ego and a little larger perspective it is possible to find a common language, a common reality. Use your imagination and flex your compassion, viola - understanding between co-workers, relatives, couples, generations, species, etc... A little effort with a lot of reward: better relationships and a stronger sense of connection.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
On loss...
Pregnancy is amazing. It is scary, humbling, awe-inspiring, and beautiful. Pregnancy makes the future bloom with possibility and wither as well. Your dreams are manifest in every kick and heartbeat. Your fears are present in every stillness or drop of blood.
There are assurances. There are milestones. You move from one point of panic to another, adding new hopes and dreams along the way. You mark these points of progress because you no longer have to worry about being queasy and can look forward to elastic waistbands. With every step forward you are thankful to put away the concerns of the last step, because you don't have to worry about that anymore.
But sometimes you do. Sometimes you are far enough along not to worry about miscarriage, but it happens anyway. Sometimes you begin to bleed but the baby's heartbeat is strong and regular. Sometimes you try to calm the spasms but the urge to push is too strong. Sometimes your body fails you and you push that still beating heart out of you.
You hold your family close. You kiss your child. You stare in amazement at the card and pictures from the grief counselor. You touch the impossibly tiny footprints. You become angry at yourself. You become angry at everyone else who is pregnant. Everyone is pregnant. Everyone is healthy. Everyone says something nice and normal. Everything sounds crass and crazy. Everything is not okay.
It won't be okay. It never will be. But there are other milestones. Other worries. Other joys. As these dearest possibilities are lost and mourned, different futures are unfolded. Even in passing, your baby is loved and your heart will never change even though the course of your life has.
There are assurances. There are milestones. You move from one point of panic to another, adding new hopes and dreams along the way. You mark these points of progress because you no longer have to worry about being queasy and can look forward to elastic waistbands. With every step forward you are thankful to put away the concerns of the last step, because you don't have to worry about that anymore.
But sometimes you do. Sometimes you are far enough along not to worry about miscarriage, but it happens anyway. Sometimes you begin to bleed but the baby's heartbeat is strong and regular. Sometimes you try to calm the spasms but the urge to push is too strong. Sometimes your body fails you and you push that still beating heart out of you.
You hold your family close. You kiss your child. You stare in amazement at the card and pictures from the grief counselor. You touch the impossibly tiny footprints. You become angry at yourself. You become angry at everyone else who is pregnant. Everyone is pregnant. Everyone is healthy. Everyone says something nice and normal. Everything sounds crass and crazy. Everything is not okay.
It won't be okay. It never will be. But there are other milestones. Other worries. Other joys. As these dearest possibilities are lost and mourned, different futures are unfolded. Even in passing, your baby is loved and your heart will never change even though the course of your life has.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Our futures and families are intertwined and fragile. This contains disturbing topics...
I listen to the news in my car, at work, in my home. I listen and, increasingly, I have to fight back tears. Horrors are being visited upon people of all ages in Congo, Sudan, Rwanda, Zimbabwe, Thailand, Cambodia, and too many other countries around the world. Women and children are kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery around the world. They face a future of repeated rape, torture, forced abortions, mutilations, sexually transmitted diseases, and possibly murder. Men and boys are being conscripted into militias, drugged, beaten, threatened, and forced to endure soul-killing atrocities. Villages are being burned, wells poisoned, the men taken or killed, the women raped or killed, and the children- even infants- are raped and left behind. Families are torn apart, bodies are broken, dreams crushed, futures dashed, hopes killed. Young girls suffer from fistulas, caused by gang rapes or implements used to violate them. Boys have to learn to live without their hands, hacked off so they can't pick up a gun. Women give birth to babies with the faces of their attackers. Schools are destroyed. Industry and agriculture cease. Suffering is manifest in all its forms.
I look at my child, my husband, my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends, my neighbors, my self. I realize that these people suffering around the world are the same as the people in my home, my family, and my community. These people are members of our family and they need our help. Governments, armies, police, political stability, economic health, education, and health care are the elements needed to stop the criminals, the militias, or the monsters wearing human skins. But we can help our families. We can help our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers. Even with our shrinking pocketbooks and tighter budgets, we can help. We can give to charities and organizations that build hospitals, build schools, teach skills, provide counseling, and foster hope. We can volunteer our time to bring attention to the ongoing atrocities. We can stand up when others cannot. We can speak when others are silenced. We can save our families. We can build our future.
Amnesty International
Doctors Without Borders
Women for Women International
Campaign to End Fistula
The Polaris Project
There are so many more organizations trying to help and so many more people who need help. It starts by choosing just one and putting my two cents where they are needed most.
I look at my child, my husband, my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends, my neighbors, my self. I realize that these people suffering around the world are the same as the people in my home, my family, and my community. These people are members of our family and they need our help. Governments, armies, police, political stability, economic health, education, and health care are the elements needed to stop the criminals, the militias, or the monsters wearing human skins. But we can help our families. We can help our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers. Even with our shrinking pocketbooks and tighter budgets, we can help. We can give to charities and organizations that build hospitals, build schools, teach skills, provide counseling, and foster hope. We can volunteer our time to bring attention to the ongoing atrocities. We can stand up when others cannot. We can speak when others are silenced. We can save our families. We can build our future.
Amnesty International
Doctors Without Borders
Women for Women International
Campaign to End Fistula
The Polaris Project
There are so many more organizations trying to help and so many more people who need help. It starts by choosing just one and putting my two cents where they are needed most.
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