Tough Love Smackdown
I recently gave a good friend of mine a heaping helping of tough love. It was delivered electronically, so it was honed to the point and edited. I'm afraid I might have been too tough. I also think I shouldn't throw stones. The advice I gave him was advice, I realized, that I would also be wise to follow. We are in different situations, but the advice applied to both of us. Here it is in summary as the original disappeared in the cybervapor:
You have a family that requires you to be a stable presence. They know you as a person who is this way...what happens when you suddenly become a person who is that way? You are already an oddball, why push their tolerance to the breaking point? Stay the course and try to figure out how to make what you have work for you.
My intent with the message is, we are no longer in the Age of Seekers. We have entered into the Age of Commitment. We are in a box that is "tough and unyeilding." Can we just galavant away in search of greener pastures? Not anymore, I agued. We've made our choices, some paths are now and forever unavailable. We must look at our box and really get to know it well. We should know what it looks like. We should know every crack or crease. We should learn how to repair it if it breaks. We should figure out how to work with and within our box.
Yes, maybe, eventually, we can abandon this box. But not without first researching the options and holding focus groups with loved ones. I'm whimsical by nature. I'm surprised he didn't laugh in my face when I gave him this advice. How dare I? Well, Alice, I'm looking in the mirror right now, shivering with the knowledge that this advice I sagely passed along applies to me just as much, if not more.
So here I stand chastened and full of humility. I regret that I was too harsh. I don't regret the message, though. Sometimes, dammit, we have to speak up and say things that aren't nice, aren't overtly supportive. I said what I said because sometimes I get angry when I sense that someone is about to do something harmful to themselves. I'm angry at myself too, and ashamed.
I hope I haven't damaged the friendship. I delivered this message from my heart, through my head, by means of my sharp tongue. I've talked to him since and he doesn't seemed to have missed a step. But we've just been cordial and had short conversations. We are both wanderers and I had an urge to tug his reins to keep him in line. I'm now letting go of his reins and picking up mine.
Hopefully, we remain on course and discover that the rewards are worth it. I believe they will be.
You have a family that requires you to be a stable presence. They know you as a person who is this way...what happens when you suddenly become a person who is that way? You are already an oddball, why push their tolerance to the breaking point? Stay the course and try to figure out how to make what you have work for you.
My intent with the message is, we are no longer in the Age of Seekers. We have entered into the Age of Commitment. We are in a box that is "tough and unyeilding." Can we just galavant away in search of greener pastures? Not anymore, I agued. We've made our choices, some paths are now and forever unavailable. We must look at our box and really get to know it well. We should know what it looks like. We should know every crack or crease. We should learn how to repair it if it breaks. We should figure out how to work with and within our box.
Yes, maybe, eventually, we can abandon this box. But not without first researching the options and holding focus groups with loved ones. I'm whimsical by nature. I'm surprised he didn't laugh in my face when I gave him this advice. How dare I? Well, Alice, I'm looking in the mirror right now, shivering with the knowledge that this advice I sagely passed along applies to me just as much, if not more.
So here I stand chastened and full of humility. I regret that I was too harsh. I don't regret the message, though. Sometimes, dammit, we have to speak up and say things that aren't nice, aren't overtly supportive. I said what I said because sometimes I get angry when I sense that someone is about to do something harmful to themselves. I'm angry at myself too, and ashamed.
I hope I haven't damaged the friendship. I delivered this message from my heart, through my head, by means of my sharp tongue. I've talked to him since and he doesn't seemed to have missed a step. But we've just been cordial and had short conversations. We are both wanderers and I had an urge to tug his reins to keep him in line. I'm now letting go of his reins and picking up mine.
Hopefully, we remain on course and discover that the rewards are worth it. I believe they will be.
posted by Jenny Jenny Flannery | 7:03 PM
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