A pair of eyes apiece -- the ones on the right are mine (adapted from a template) and the others belong to D (carved freehand).
I'm amused that the creepy gaze I thought I was creating ended up looking more concerned than anything else. I guess having another face emerging from the side of one's head would be a good reason ...
Halloween night in question was busy, and not just because we got about 200 trick-or-treaters (fairly standard in our neighborhood). We had a last-minute guest, one of our friends from Portland, who was supposed to be on vacation in Venice but had had his passport turned down the day before at the Portland airport. Too beaten up, the gate agents told him. His only option, if he still wanted to make the trip, was to get a new document issued from the nearest emergency processing center -- which was in Seattle.
"I'm going to be fairly rotten company," he warned me ahead of time. Which was completely understandable. But I paused before telling him that I might not be much fun either. Even though we've known each other for more than a decade, I still hesitated to say anything about what's been going on in the last few weeks. On the outside, there are no obvious signs that mark me -- perhaps I look more tired than usual and my clothes are a little looser, but no scars, no broken bones. Still, I've had my resources tapped repeatedly, dealing with unpredictable pain, diverting whatever energy I have into finding a doctor who will listen, waiting for a diagnostic plan to take shape.
As I hinted here, these aren't things I like to tell people in real life, not even my family, because pain, both physical and emotional, is so intimate. To admit to someone that you hurt is to take a risk -- that the other person will respond insensitively, that he or she will downplay your experience, that you will feel worse for having said something in the first place. So I've learned not to talk about pain out loud if I can get away with it; I do it in this space instead.
But with someone I've known so long, it also feels dishonest to pretend all is well. And I'd been run down enough in the last few weeks that the act of pretending was going to be too much in person, especially because the physical pain is so unpredictable; it can flare up at any time. So I told my friend in brief that I wasn't in the best shape. The result was an awkward few seconds on the phone -- he acknowledged what I'd said but didn't seem to know what else to offer. Then someone came to his door and he said he had to go.
So I'm still turning one face to the outside world and letting the other exist here. I wish there were a way to integrate them more. But for now, this is the best I can do.
12 comments:
Oh my. Aren't people odd? They react so differently on the phone than in person, or else just sit there, slack-jawed. ((hugs))
Odd indeed, TKW. In person is sometimes just as awkward!
I really relate to your comment here about sharing our experiences of pain with friends and family. And I also take your words as a personal reminder not to engage in oneupsmanship ("Oh, I'm exhausted too!"). The best friends are those who listen and not those who want to shine their own experience back on you. I hope to be the good kind of friend, but am not sure I always manage it.
Sweet Kristen! It's a balance of the two sometimes, I find. In some moments, hearing that someone else has had an experience that informs his/her way of understanding your own can be very helpful, especially when it feels like few people can relate. But yes, there is also, as you've pointed out, going too far -- forgetting that bringing a personal experience to the conversation is meant to indicate our capacity for empathy, not to one-up (consciously or otherwise).
Such a thought-provoking point, Kristen. I, too, question myself as I try to show my own friends that I hear them, but being aware of the difficulties therein makes us better at it, no? Listening is an art that takes practice; making someone else feel listened to is as well.
So -- thanks for lending an ear :)
Pain is indeed "intimate." And sometimes it's easier to share with strangers, or those with whom you aren't close in other ways. Someone who isn't a friend or family member is more able to listen perhaps, without feeling compelled to do something, to fix it, or feel guilty for not being in pain.
All the more reason that this is a safe haven - this writing world - for things we may not want to bring into our "regular" lives.
I do hope you'll get your answers, and soon.
Why is it that it's so hard to talk face-to-face (or over the phone) about something so person, and yet it's easy to write it for all of the internet to read? I know just what you mean though.
BLW -- you make such good points. The instinct to fix is a strong one! I think you've illustrated an interesting difference between blog friendships and face-to-face relationships. The audiences we find here are preselected and self-selected, in some ways, for listening. It's understood that we are limited to doing just that in such an environment, so the other things we might ordinarily try to do for friends don't get in the way as much. A lucky artifact of blog culture, shall we say?
Allison -- thanks for stopping by. I ask myself the same thing! And it's not just the anonymity that makes it easier. I think it has something specifically to do with the kind of audience we find here, as I said above to BLW. If only the social rules (or expectations or whatever they are) were more similar between the two spheres, eh?
Those are some amazing jack 'o' lanterns
I'm so impressed by your beautiful, creative jack-o-lanterns! And by the way you came back to them at the end of your post. Nicely done on both counts!
AWS -- thanks, and welcome. Knives and gourds, easy entertainment, eh? :)
GEW -- I would have been less ambitious with the pumpkins had D not been so into it. He knows his way around carving a bit better than I do. Still, it's always fun to help. Thanks for the words on the writing too.
You guys turned pumpkin carvings into works of art! I am impressed!
Thanks, SuziCate! The right tools make all the difference -- in this case an X-Acto blade rather than a blunt kitchen knife :)
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