Not There

[mrissa]

There is a lot of talk about being there for people when they need you. This is an important thing. I've had reason to appreciate it on several fronts lately, for whatever value of "lately" you care to specify. But I think sometimes some of us need a reminder -- and by "some of us," mostly I mean "me," although some of you might benefit, too, so it's here and not in my paper journal -- that it can be just as important to not be there for someone when they need you not to be.

If you're going to be close with someone -- especially if you're going to live with them -- I think it's a good idea to know how you each handle crisis. Do you want to talk it out, cry it out, hug it out, in some other way deal with another person about it? Is primate grooming of fleas the order of the day when the other orders of the day have all been sucky? Or are you going off to your cave by yourself to either lick your wounds or just not think about it? I think we're socially encouraged to think of these things as female and male, in that order, and they aren't. I think we're also supposed to think of the "female" version as the caring version, the considerate version, the emotionally attuned version.*

But forcing someone else to deal with their crisis points in your way is pretty damned insensitive, if you ask me. And sure, a certain amount of communication is necessary for some problems -- "arm crushed by mastodon; fling me red meat in passing for blood replacement" -- but for some people in most situations and most people in some situations, going over and over the problem is not going to help anything.

Not very subtly, I'm talking about timprov here. Those of you who have friended him may notice that you don't get posts about how crappy he feels or how frustrating health stuff has been. This is because he is a cave huddler, not a flea picker. Neither is better or worse. It just means that sometimes we have to remind ourselves to behave in ways that help the other person when it's their bad day. Bringing in a bottle of water, speaking in a calm, matter-of-fact voice and/or making a few light jokes when he can't get out of bed, and then leaving him be makes me feel like a callous heel. Sitting in the same room while we both poke our computers and he whimpers in pain makes me feel like a big jerk. But these things are more considerate of what actually makes him feel better or at least not worse than if I was running around fluffing pillows and moaning about where does it hurt this minute, how 'bout now, how 'bout now. (markgritter is also largely a cave huddler. Happily on the markgritter front, this has been substantially less of an issue, as he has no major muscle groups spasming on a regular basis.)

Very few people are cave huddlers or flea pickers all the time. Some pickers will want to just read for awhile, and some huddlers will want someone to pet their hair and sing them songs from time to time. It's okay to switch over from time to time. What's not okay is trying to insist that the other person has to do it your way. "Be comforted! Be comforted in the way I want to comfort you!" No. Not acceptable.

Anyone who has tips for not feeling like a jerk when ignoring large-scale muscle spasms in a loved one should feel free to share them, though.

*I think the "male" version is supposed to be the "functional" version, the version that "gets stuff done." This is also nonsense.

Comments

[secritcrush.livejournal.com]

But when dealing with a huddler who--I'm convinced--is huddling too hard to even say, "Yup, huddling now"

As a super huddler, I think part of the problem is the huddler possibly thinks they have already communicated that they need to huddle when things are like X or they gave you the secret code for "I need alone time" and the flea picker didn't get it.

(The other problem I've personally had is that one of the flea pickers in my life would take communication of "I don't want to talk about this, it makes my stress worse" as a rejection of the flea picker personally. (And no amount of explaining/talking/whatever can convince this person differently.) Which leads to me hiding from the this person (not picking up the phone, responding to emails, etc.) when I need to be in a huddly state because then not only do I have whatever my issue is, there suddenly becomes the issue of dealing with how the person expects me to relate with them and it all becomes JUST TOO MUCH and I end up feeling like I will explode.

Which of course is a horrible solution to this sort of problem (and has in the past led to 90 kabillion people calling me to tell me to call this other person and even more stress and mess than before.)

Sadly, I am still an amateur at this being a person thing.

[buymeaclue.livejournal.com]

As a super huddler, I think part of the problem is the huddler possibly thinks they have already communicated that they need to huddle when things are like X or they gave you the secret code for "I need alone time" and the flea picker didn't get it.

Yeah. Yeah. I am so over the secret codes. *g*

I guess that's kind of what I'm trying to figure out.

My need for a non-sehkrit code runs directly counter to the huddler's need for a sehkrit one. And I'd be able to survive-and-thrive if we could just meet in the middle and say, "Okay, I will say X when I need to pick and you will say Y when you need to huddle." But we don't, and so implosion ensued.

Or in another middle. Or something--anything!--that doesn't make everyone involved completely insane.

Feh. Amateur here, too.

[secritcrush.livejournal.com]

My need for a non-sehkrit code runs directly counter to the huddler's need for a sehkrit one.

*nod* understandable. For me personally, lots of times there is a lot of guilt when I tell people to "go away" straight up. And with my family it's always been very, horribly, annoyingly ineffective and tends to backfire and make a bigger kerfuffle than attempting secret codes ever would. So after a while it's hard to move out of that mode because you've been burned before. (Which has nothing to do with the new flea picker, but it's very hard to break out of patterns which, while not satisfying, tend to produce the least unpleasant results.

[buymeaclue.livejournal.com]

...it's very hard to break out of patterns which, while not satisfying, tend to produce the least unpleasant results...

Heh. Yeah. Tell me about it.

Just for the record, while a flat-out "go away" can sometimes sting my feelings (sometimes not), even this fix-it-now! picker is not wounded by "I want to be alone!"

But, now that I've seen this, you can tell me to go away any time to you like and I promise not to take it personally. (And now I will go away and never speak of this again. *g*)

[alecaustin.livejournal.com]

Ah, the many joys of secret codes. And relationship implosion. That's the kind of excitement most of us could live without.

(Also: Is anyone a professional at being a person? Seriously?)

I guess I'm coming at this from a slightly different perspective, because getting people to go away when I'm feeling huddly has never been much of a problem; I just lock myself in my room, turn off IM, and otherwise explicitly signal that I want to be alone. (The notable exception here is when I'm with my parents, but that's a whole 'nother bag of worms.) I try to be fairly hands-off with the picking, too, so if someone indicates they don't wanna talk about something, I'll follow their lead.

The biggest problem I've run into has always been finding a way to talk about things when I *want* to talk-- not only is there internal resistance to the idea of spilling my guts, even in a metaphorical sense, but there's further anxiety over boring or distressing my audience. I mean, who wants to listen to me bitch and whine about my life when by pretty much any yardstick you can choose, I've been lucky to get where I am?

Feh. This whole trusting and caring for people thing isn't for wimps, that's for sure.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I mean, who wants to listen to me bitch and whine about my life when by pretty much any yardstick you can choose, I've been lucky to get where I am?

Me.