I guess I worry less about what other people are doing and more about simply what makes me happy. About a decade ago I banished the word "should" from my vocabulary as part of a practice of recognizing that I want to have the things done and therefore I want and choose to do them, or I figure out a different plan.
I love to cook, so I do a lot of that and when it got to be too much for me during the pandemic I said "I don't cook more than three times in a row" and we started getting takeout and my husband started cooking more, which makes him happy, too. I love to tidy, so I do a fair amount of that, but I don't love to clean, so we pay people to do that. I also do a lot of laundry. But I do a lot of other things, too, and each of them are personally meaningful to me, so in the end I think I'm winning.
"I guess I worry less about what other people are doing and more about simply what makes me happy."
This really is the brass ring, innit?
I think a lot about securely attached people and their superpowers, of which I believe this is one: the ability to truly identify and follow their true will. I think there are a million reasons why insecurely attached and/or traumatized people (my partner has this wonderful shorthand for this, Sad Kids) can't do this as easily: they didn't have the modeling from adult figures in their lives; they didn't gain a felt sense of what attuned care feels like; they often have a hard time identifying their own emotions, let alone responding to them appropriately; they want desperately to feel seen but haven't experienced how to get that safely. I feel like a followup to this post could be about the more internal "terrors of pleasure": the way what is supposed to be a "good" feeling can be so foreign or so linked up with aversive material that it's harder to process than negative feeling.
I hope I didn't step in it here--it makes sense to me that this may be another area of privilege for me that I'm not aware of and I appreciate you spelling it out for me. And now I'm learning what attuned care is, so thanks for that, as well.
Not at all, and I hope my response didn't come off too harsh! My wonder at said superpowers is utterly genuine and to the extent it makes me rant a bit it is only due to a kind of envy.
It is a good way of thinking of it though, one I've been thinking about a lot of late - the privilege inherent in having been well-loved. Like so many other types of privilege, it's not one I would dream of wanting to take away from anyone who has it, but yes, it is one that can bear examination, I think.
This is making me think of a night when Alice was very little. My parents, sister and brother-in-law were over for dinner and Alice was having a hard time. She had a meltdown at the dinner table and I picked her up and went into another room together, where I held her and--once she began to be a little calmer--started to sing happy songs. One by one my husband, father, mother, and sister left the table and came to join us as we sang, until we were all together again, singing and having fun and Alice was burbling and laughing with us. My brother-in-law stood in the doorway and later said how shocking it was to him that we all centered Alice's feelings, stayed with her, and made her the focus of our attention--not something he'd experienced in his childhood. For us it was strange for it to be remarkable. Alice can't remember that day, but I like to think that it is living in her yet and I hope it will make her strong in her own, independent life, knowing that her happiness and sense of belonging were important to all of us.
I just read this a second time and am tearing up reading it. It's so beautiful, Elizabeth, and I *know* that it lives in her yet - it may seem odd to say, but that's just science. :) That kind of attuned response, steadily applied - and I've read also that it only needs to be 30% of the time! - is exactly what makes kids securely attached, and helps them become secure adults, too.
Because I know something of your story, I also know that Alice has always been a deeply wanted and loved child, and that makes a huge difference, too.
I'm feeling for your brother-in-law in this story, too (possibly someone I know, I think), witnessing this and feeling whatever he felt. I know I've had the experience of witnessing such attuned parenting and feeling the ache of that old lack.
It makes me think of something so funny I saw recently, which was also an example of this, but on such a smaller scale. I was walking into an REI in Maine, and a dad (I assume) was walking out, carrying what looked like a 2-3 year old girl. I don't remember if she was fireman-carried over his shoulder or what, just that she was howling in that inimitable way toddlers have when they are Just Done In The Store. What struck me so hard was his calm demeanor, and how he was careful neither to mirror her (spinning up the anxious attachment!) nor ignore her (avoidant side!). Instead he was just speaking in a slow, quiet voice, validating her feelings and telling her what was gonna happen next in a comforting way. Like, "Yup, it's sure rough. Okay, we're gonna go home now and get some dinner." Just like, simple, attuned, non-reactive. So great.
And yeah--one of the things I always tried to remember was how hard it is when your whole life is controlled by giants with entirely mysterious priorities. That sounds like you witnessed a Good Dad. <3
I guess I worry less about what other people are doing and more about simply what makes me happy. About a decade ago I banished the word "should" from my vocabulary as part of a practice of recognizing that I want to have the things done and therefore I want and choose to do them, or I figure out a different plan.
I love to cook, so I do a lot of that and when it got to be too much for me during the pandemic I said "I don't cook more than three times in a row" and we started getting takeout and my husband started cooking more, which makes him happy, too. I love to tidy, so I do a fair amount of that, but I don't love to clean, so we pay people to do that. I also do a lot of laundry. But I do a lot of other things, too, and each of them are personally meaningful to me, so in the end I think I'm winning.
It sounds indeed like you are winning. :)
"I guess I worry less about what other people are doing and more about simply what makes me happy."
This really is the brass ring, innit?
I think a lot about securely attached people and their superpowers, of which I believe this is one: the ability to truly identify and follow their true will. I think there are a million reasons why insecurely attached and/or traumatized people (my partner has this wonderful shorthand for this, Sad Kids) can't do this as easily: they didn't have the modeling from adult figures in their lives; they didn't gain a felt sense of what attuned care feels like; they often have a hard time identifying their own emotions, let alone responding to them appropriately; they want desperately to feel seen but haven't experienced how to get that safely. I feel like a followup to this post could be about the more internal "terrors of pleasure": the way what is supposed to be a "good" feeling can be so foreign or so linked up with aversive material that it's harder to process than negative feeling.
I hope I didn't step in it here--it makes sense to me that this may be another area of privilege for me that I'm not aware of and I appreciate you spelling it out for me. And now I'm learning what attuned care is, so thanks for that, as well.
Not at all, and I hope my response didn't come off too harsh! My wonder at said superpowers is utterly genuine and to the extent it makes me rant a bit it is only due to a kind of envy.
It is a good way of thinking of it though, one I've been thinking about a lot of late - the privilege inherent in having been well-loved. Like so many other types of privilege, it's not one I would dream of wanting to take away from anyone who has it, but yes, it is one that can bear examination, I think.
This is making me think of a night when Alice was very little. My parents, sister and brother-in-law were over for dinner and Alice was having a hard time. She had a meltdown at the dinner table and I picked her up and went into another room together, where I held her and--once she began to be a little calmer--started to sing happy songs. One by one my husband, father, mother, and sister left the table and came to join us as we sang, until we were all together again, singing and having fun and Alice was burbling and laughing with us. My brother-in-law stood in the doorway and later said how shocking it was to him that we all centered Alice's feelings, stayed with her, and made her the focus of our attention--not something he'd experienced in his childhood. For us it was strange for it to be remarkable. Alice can't remember that day, but I like to think that it is living in her yet and I hope it will make her strong in her own, independent life, knowing that her happiness and sense of belonging were important to all of us.
I just read this a second time and am tearing up reading it. It's so beautiful, Elizabeth, and I *know* that it lives in her yet - it may seem odd to say, but that's just science. :) That kind of attuned response, steadily applied - and I've read also that it only needs to be 30% of the time! - is exactly what makes kids securely attached, and helps them become secure adults, too.
Because I know something of your story, I also know that Alice has always been a deeply wanted and loved child, and that makes a huge difference, too.
I'm feeling for your brother-in-law in this story, too (possibly someone I know, I think), witnessing this and feeling whatever he felt. I know I've had the experience of witnessing such attuned parenting and feeling the ache of that old lack.
It makes me think of something so funny I saw recently, which was also an example of this, but on such a smaller scale. I was walking into an REI in Maine, and a dad (I assume) was walking out, carrying what looked like a 2-3 year old girl. I don't remember if she was fireman-carried over his shoulder or what, just that she was howling in that inimitable way toddlers have when they are Just Done In The Store. What struck me so hard was his calm demeanor, and how he was careful neither to mirror her (spinning up the anxious attachment!) nor ignore her (avoidant side!). Instead he was just speaking in a slow, quiet voice, validating her feelings and telling her what was gonna happen next in a comforting way. Like, "Yup, it's sure rough. Okay, we're gonna go home now and get some dinner." Just like, simple, attuned, non-reactive. So great.
Thank you.
And yeah--one of the things I always tried to remember was how hard it is when your whole life is controlled by giants with entirely mysterious priorities. That sounds like you witnessed a Good Dad. <3