It hurts to see how inept the human race is at comforting a fellow human. We're the same species, after all. So, read this, and get an idea as to how not to comfort someone. Pay much attention to the "NOT" part of this. If you try to comfort someone in these ways, it's worse than just leaving them be.
Number 1: Try to change the subject while they're telling you about a traumatic/painful situation. When they're disclosing, it's their turn to talk about what they NEED to talk about, not what you WANT to talk about. It doesn't seem as though this needs said, but it does. Changing the subject will not create an easier situation for anyone.
"I just miss her so much, I -"
"So, did you see that Bears game?"
Number 2: Tell them to move on. Seriously. A person doesn't simply "recover" from a traumatic/painful situation. If it is a terrible thing, especially loss, they likely will think about it every day of their life. They will not move on because someone alluded to the fact that they should. They need to COPE with the grief, not move on.
"I can't believe it's been a year since [thusandsuch] happened."
"Only that long? Time to move on."
Number 3: Upon hearing of the event, message them on Facebook, email, etc. Use your phone to CALL them, if you must, but for the sake of sanity, no Facebook. These messages are impersonal and seemingly not thoughtful. Unless you have no vocal cords to utter the words, CALL them. Or, in select cases, visit them. Unless it is a death in the family, and the family wants to be alone to grieve together. Oh, and when you make this phone call, be prepared to... are you ready for this? *LISTEN* TO THEM! They might need to unload some thoughts, and hey, you have EARS with which to listen! It is amazing how consoling an open ear can be. Which brings me to my next point.
[instant message from ---]
"hey man. heard wut happned. srry. need anything u can lemme know dude."
Number 4: Well, you'll have to say something, right? WRONG. You can just let them talk and unload their thoughts, without saying a word! If you're honestly prepared to listen, you're the most useful to that person. Avoid asking questions pertaining to the event. They'll tell you the information they want you to hear, asking questions will likely lead to sometime that will trample their feelings or make them feel as though you do not feel the gravity of the event.
Number 5: Tell them you know how they feel. You don't. It doesn't matter if you've experienced the same situation, you haven't. Every situation is unique. Nothing gives you permission to tell them how great you are comforting someone.
"My grandfather passed away. His heart failed."
"Oh yeah, mine did too. And I know exactly how you feel. This one guy tried to relate to me but he totally didn't get it."
In summary, be there for them, but don't prod them or tell them how to cope. Healing will come with God and time, but you can't control either of those.
Go comfort someone.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Come on! It'll be fun.
"Come on! It'll be fun."
In my experience, few words were ever capable of containing more deceit, more truth, more stories, more memories, or more boring hours. Here’s why.
In the past, I’ve felt strongly that my definition of “fun” is uncommon for a few main reasons. The image of a social gathering late at night around loud noises, bright lights, laughter, music, sugary drinks, and excitement seems to be a popular one. Staying out late makes me drowsy. Both bright lights and loud noises give me headaches. Loud music frustrates me because I can’t hear anyone’s words over it, and no one should be speaking so loudly that I should be able to hear them over it. I don’t have a sweet tooth; in fact, I don’t even drink sweet tea. I feel crushed and analyzed in a large crowd. I generally despise texting. To top it all, dancing is not my forte.
Many people look at this side of my personality and can’t possibly imagine how I ever have fun. They paint me in their minds to be a serious, under reactive persona who never smiles and doesn’t know how to loosen up. That image doesn’t look anything like the version of me that I know. This is, I think, the key to why I struggle with building a massive amount of friendships. I have my close friends, sure, but it seems like everyone I meet is the best of friends (or has some deep seated drama) with everyone they meet. Maybe that’s part of living in a small town. More likely, it’s simply a conflict between what I like to do and what “they” like to do. On that note, I’ve struck the golden center of a personality that seems thus-far detached and inhuman.
What do I like? Small groups of people, sunlight in moderation, witty jokes, the music on quietly when I’m alone (and entirely turned off when I’m trying to converse), water, fresh fruit, honey on my pancakes, and face-to-face conversations, and either phone calls or letters when face-to-face isn’t attainable. That’s how I loosen up. Not by blaring the music, dancing, eating sweet food, or spending time with a crowd of people. I have a feeling that plenty of the people reading this enjoy a mix of things from both lists. I’m not entirely alone.
At the heart of the matter, I like the same things that everyone else does. Except, I don’t prefer it served with a side of loud music and crowds. I love the same feelings that everyone else does, but I get those feeling from different things. For instance, I like the feeling that I’m loved. I get that feeling from talking face to face and surprise birthday parties, from friends coming over just to say hello, not happy birthdays from a wave of people on facebook or texts. I like the feeling that I’m not alone. I get that feeling from finding other people with similar interests, mostly church. Not from being in a crowd. I like feeling like I’ve accomplished something. I get that feeling from training horses, making a good grade, or running a distance/time pr. Not a team victory in a school sport where I rode the bench. I like unsweet tea; it’s what my taste buds prefer. I like adrenaline (a lot), but I can’t say with confidence that I’ve ever found it in a crowd with loud music. Snowboarding, yes. Jumping horses, yes. Being on a uncontrolled horse, yes. Jumping off of a high dive platform, yes. Water slides, yes. Even something like flying in a plane or having a crush on someone is enough to give me butterflies.
I’d say “I hate drama”, but surely that’s not true. If I hated drama, I couldn’t have managed to finish Pride and Prejudice. My favorite thing is drama attached to a good story. I dislike hearing pointless he-said-she-said stories in highschool about relationships that will probably end (sorry). I like being at a wedding and hearing the stories about how the two met. I thoroughly enjoy asking elderly people about their childhood and what their philosophies are on life and love. Most of all, I like hearing stories; especially from my dad. He’s quite good at baited-breath stories.
Now I can explain why I have a bitter sweet relationship with “come on, it’ll be fun.” The problem is that I always listen to that phrase. It’s good, occasionally. That’s the reason why I went snowboarding in the first place. It’s also the reason why I’ve made some serious mistakes, and the reason why I’ve spent a lot of hours in various places that I really don’t consider “fun”. It’s also a source of concern, because it’s a bit like my kryptonite. I’m relatively level headed in my day-to-day decision making (even though I make mistakes often), until that silly little phrase jumps out of nowhere. Yes, what I enjoy doing is different. Yes, how I relate to people is different. Yes, I’m emotionally stable.
The fact of the matter is that I enjoy feeling exactly what everyone else does, but I find those feelings in different ways, normally. I have a hard time cultivating relationships sometimes because of those differences. However, once I find someone who enjoys relating with me the ways that I like to be related to, all bets are off and a whole lot of my walls fall down.
I’m not trying to discourage anyone from relating to anyone, but certain relationship types aren’t for me, personally. A lot of types are though. Try different kinds of relation. Come on, it’ll be fun.
P.S.
In the past, I’ve felt strongly that my definition of “fun” is uncommon for a few main reasons. The image of a social gathering late at night around loud noises, bright lights, laughter, music, sugary drinks, and excitement seems to be a popular one. Staying out late makes me drowsy. Both bright lights and loud noises give me headaches. Loud music frustrates me because I can’t hear anyone’s words over it, and no one should be speaking so loudly that I should be able to hear them over it. I don’t have a sweet tooth; in fact, I don’t even drink sweet tea. I feel crushed and analyzed in a large crowd. I generally despise texting. To top it all, dancing is not my forte.
Many people look at this side of my personality and can’t possibly imagine how I ever have fun. They paint me in their minds to be a serious, under reactive persona who never smiles and doesn’t know how to loosen up. That image doesn’t look anything like the version of me that I know. This is, I think, the key to why I struggle with building a massive amount of friendships. I have my close friends, sure, but it seems like everyone I meet is the best of friends (or has some deep seated drama) with everyone they meet. Maybe that’s part of living in a small town. More likely, it’s simply a conflict between what I like to do and what “they” like to do. On that note, I’ve struck the golden center of a personality that seems thus-far detached and inhuman.
What do I like? Small groups of people, sunlight in moderation, witty jokes, the music on quietly when I’m alone (and entirely turned off when I’m trying to converse), water, fresh fruit, honey on my pancakes, and face-to-face conversations, and either phone calls or letters when face-to-face isn’t attainable. That’s how I loosen up. Not by blaring the music, dancing, eating sweet food, or spending time with a crowd of people. I have a feeling that plenty of the people reading this enjoy a mix of things from both lists. I’m not entirely alone.
At the heart of the matter, I like the same things that everyone else does. Except, I don’t prefer it served with a side of loud music and crowds. I love the same feelings that everyone else does, but I get those feeling from different things. For instance, I like the feeling that I’m loved. I get that feeling from talking face to face and surprise birthday parties, from friends coming over just to say hello, not happy birthdays from a wave of people on facebook or texts. I like the feeling that I’m not alone. I get that feeling from finding other people with similar interests, mostly church. Not from being in a crowd. I like feeling like I’ve accomplished something. I get that feeling from training horses, making a good grade, or running a distance/time pr. Not a team victory in a school sport where I rode the bench. I like unsweet tea; it’s what my taste buds prefer. I like adrenaline (a lot), but I can’t say with confidence that I’ve ever found it in a crowd with loud music. Snowboarding, yes. Jumping horses, yes. Being on a uncontrolled horse, yes. Jumping off of a high dive platform, yes. Water slides, yes. Even something like flying in a plane or having a crush on someone is enough to give me butterflies.
I’d say “I hate drama”, but surely that’s not true. If I hated drama, I couldn’t have managed to finish Pride and Prejudice. My favorite thing is drama attached to a good story. I dislike hearing pointless he-said-she-said stories in highschool about relationships that will probably end (sorry). I like being at a wedding and hearing the stories about how the two met. I thoroughly enjoy asking elderly people about their childhood and what their philosophies are on life and love. Most of all, I like hearing stories; especially from my dad. He’s quite good at baited-breath stories.
Now I can explain why I have a bitter sweet relationship with “come on, it’ll be fun.” The problem is that I always listen to that phrase. It’s good, occasionally. That’s the reason why I went snowboarding in the first place. It’s also the reason why I’ve made some serious mistakes, and the reason why I’ve spent a lot of hours in various places that I really don’t consider “fun”. It’s also a source of concern, because it’s a bit like my kryptonite. I’m relatively level headed in my day-to-day decision making (even though I make mistakes often), until that silly little phrase jumps out of nowhere. Yes, what I enjoy doing is different. Yes, how I relate to people is different. Yes, I’m emotionally stable.
The fact of the matter is that I enjoy feeling exactly what everyone else does, but I find those feelings in different ways, normally. I have a hard time cultivating relationships sometimes because of those differences. However, once I find someone who enjoys relating with me the ways that I like to be related to, all bets are off and a whole lot of my walls fall down.
I’m not trying to discourage anyone from relating to anyone, but certain relationship types aren’t for me, personally. A lot of types are though. Try different kinds of relation. Come on, it’ll be fun.
P.S.
A secondary, nearly unrelated note on gossip.
We fall sometimes. That’s ok.
Fall into a good book.
Fall in love.
Fall out of love.
Fall asleep.
Fall into a hole.
Fall off of a snowboard.
Fall into anything real and of consequence,
just don’t fall into gossip.
Fall into a good book.
Fall in love.
Fall out of love.
Fall asleep.
Fall into a hole.
Fall off of a snowboard.
Fall into anything real and of consequence,
just don’t fall into gossip.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Shouting Up the Stairs
"There are people who never take the time to engage with other human beings to have a meaningful dialog about things... If you have no productive, active, engaging conversations with other people, something is severely missing from your life." -the Partially Examined Life
The Partially Examined life is the title of a podcast that I have enjoyed for about four months now. I use it as a mind-expanding device when my whole family is entrapped in the world of computer screens and no one "feels up to discussion." Anyways, the quote posted above sparked a long train of thought for me.
My first thought was that we always tend to notice people who don't engage in said meaningful conversations. These tend to be the same people who are glued to their phone and computer screens. Although these groups are not mutually inclusive, people who are glued to their screens typically fail in certain social areas. Real social life is more fulfilling and engaging than social media. Productive conversations can happen via social media, but ideas are more difficult to convey online. Online/texting conversations are a lot like shouting from downstairs to upstairs. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and (not being able to see the other person nor being quite sure of their location) holler your words up at them. They might hear, they might not. Words will be confused, and intentions might be misconstrued.
id est:
Person A: "Come downstairs, let's go!"
Person B: "Bum some flares? Legos?"
Person A: "Plumb gum? Dingo?"
Et cetera, et cetera.
So, why rely on technology when it is only comparable to an unfulfilling conversation? The answer can be found by looking to my wonderful Dad, and my extroverted friend. We'll call her giggles, for all intents and purposes. She had a question for Dad, something about logistics, so she called him. After dad answered the question, giggles started making small talk. My dad got annoyed. Dad asked giggles if he had answered her question. Giggles said yes, and the conversation ended. I was annoyed at dad's bluntness with my friend- but I shouldn't have been. You see, Dad only uses phones for what is necessary. It might have something to do with his failing hearing (he spends most of the conversation saying, "what?" And "slow down and speak up!"), but we can still learn a valuable lesson from his evasion of phones. So many times I've seen him on the phone with a talkative person, holding the phone just above his ear, rolling his eyes, waiting for them to quit talking. I don't quite think that rudeness should be resorted to when trying to end a conversation, but when someone is trying to communicate deep feelings over a text/Facebook message/email, reconsider and perhaps either call them over the phone, or hold the conversation until you can meet face to face. In my opinion, communicating through the Internet should be reserved for logistics and necessary conversations.
The Partially Examined life is the title of a podcast that I have enjoyed for about four months now. I use it as a mind-expanding device when my whole family is entrapped in the world of computer screens and no one "feels up to discussion." Anyways, the quote posted above sparked a long train of thought for me.
My first thought was that we always tend to notice people who don't engage in said meaningful conversations. These tend to be the same people who are glued to their phone and computer screens. Although these groups are not mutually inclusive, people who are glued to their screens typically fail in certain social areas. Real social life is more fulfilling and engaging than social media. Productive conversations can happen via social media, but ideas are more difficult to convey online. Online/texting conversations are a lot like shouting from downstairs to upstairs. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and (not being able to see the other person nor being quite sure of their location) holler your words up at them. They might hear, they might not. Words will be confused, and intentions might be misconstrued.
id est:
Person A: "Come downstairs, let's go!"
Person B: "Bum some flares? Legos?"
Person A: "Plumb gum? Dingo?"
Et cetera, et cetera.
So, why rely on technology when it is only comparable to an unfulfilling conversation? The answer can be found by looking to my wonderful Dad, and my extroverted friend. We'll call her giggles, for all intents and purposes. She had a question for Dad, something about logistics, so she called him. After dad answered the question, giggles started making small talk. My dad got annoyed. Dad asked giggles if he had answered her question. Giggles said yes, and the conversation ended. I was annoyed at dad's bluntness with my friend- but I shouldn't have been. You see, Dad only uses phones for what is necessary. It might have something to do with his failing hearing (he spends most of the conversation saying, "what?" And "slow down and speak up!"), but we can still learn a valuable lesson from his evasion of phones. So many times I've seen him on the phone with a talkative person, holding the phone just above his ear, rolling his eyes, waiting for them to quit talking. I don't quite think that rudeness should be resorted to when trying to end a conversation, but when someone is trying to communicate deep feelings over a text/Facebook message/email, reconsider and perhaps either call them over the phone, or hold the conversation until you can meet face to face. In my opinion, communicating through the Internet should be reserved for logistics and necessary conversations.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Snowboarding and life
Snowboarding is a lot like life. You fall a lot and learn a lot.
Most of the time it's fun and exciting.
If you learn to love learning new things, the whole thing is a lot more interesting and thrilling.
Both snowboarding and life get us places, but sometimes you have to wait for the snow.
Sometimes you have to wait a very, very long time for the snow.
Some people have better tricks than others, some people get handed better boards than others, but in the end, it's all snowboarding, and we all make it down the mountain alive.
Introvert
“Introvert” was the word that was often used
To describe my life and to describe my views.
They called me “quiet," “a good listener”
My silence had made me a prisoner.
I hated loud noises and party scenes
I always avoided them, by all means.
Because the loud music made my head hurt,
With the flashing lights and the concerts,
I think they thought I was barely human.
Who doesn’t like all of that noise looming?
“How can someone love anything,” they asked
“if it doesn’t match partiers amassed?”
But they failed to look at the part of me
that said “I do love things, just not parties.”
They ignored it. They’d rather label me
As an introvert, as a nobody.
What they did not know, what they could not know
was that in my silence, thoughts began to grow
They grew until they almost burst out, but
I held them close, didn’t let them escape my mouth.
Until one day, when parties finally
fried the last of the partier’s brain, entirely.
Today I said what I was thinking about.
All of those thoughts started flowing out;
And before I knew what was happening,
My mind had started to spread its wings,
The wings that had been growing too wide
And no longer held desire to hide.
They listened to me, now. Tables have turned.
If they had only taken time to think
Their chance wouldn’t have been gone in a blink;
Their chance wouldn’t have been gone in a blink;
Their chance to speak and change the world
Their chance to stop and fix the record
So, today the introvert changes the world.
Today the introvert is no longer unheard.
Slaves to Comparison
Women are slaves to comparison. I used to say that women are only slaves to comparison if they let the comparison happen, but more recently I'm realizing that comparison is nearly never an act of volition.
I happen to have this one friend who compliments me a lot. Most of the time, I just blush and look away, because I'm not only flattered but also slightly overwhelmed that this person would notice something specifically interesting about my appearance.
Truth be told, the aspects of my appearance that I like are my hair and my eyes. But these details seem dulled when compared to other women. I have long, blonde hair. It's natural. I like it. But that girl has longer, shinier, softer hair than I could ever hope for; that girl over there has better natural highlights. Whatever it is, some girl, somewhere, will always, always have better hair than me.
So, I learn to be lured into a false sense of esteem. I start to feel great about how I look, then the homecoming queen shakes her perfect hair, smiles her perfect smile, walks her perfect walk, giggles her perfect giggle, and I feel entirely, in every respect, ugly and alone.
I'm a good girl. I've always been taught that beauty is not wholly based on the outward. I know that pageants, prom, homecoming, etc. aren't the basis for what a person is like on the inside... but it still kills me to be ugly. I watched that video that Dove posted (see link here) and it never really had an impact on me. In my mind I could never relate to those girls because when I watched the video I thought that they were physically beautiful women and that I was different, that I was an exception to the laws of beauty.
I thought that their insecurities were inferior to mine, that their complaints about the everything from the length of their nose to the roundness of their face were all invalid because when I looked at their faces as a whole, I saw normal, pretty people. I assumed that when people looked at me they couldn't possibly see the pretty things because they were so overwhelmed by how my eyebrows are too dark, how my face has acne scars from high school, how my eyes bulge a little when I smile, and how my chin has the worst dimple ever, and how my nose was broken and never really repaired, so it's crooked.
People often marvel at how pretty people think themselves ugly. I don't. I know my flaws only too well, because I see them in the mirror every. single. morning. I see them in pictures, and even in the reflection when the computer screen goes dark. I fixate on them. I obsess over how to change them.
Comparison makes the whole situation unbearable sometimes. I'm not thin. My face has a --although I hate this word there is simply no replacement sufficient-- hearty, Polish look rather than a delicate, gentle, homecoming, prom queen, perfect yearbook picture look. I fought this for years. I tried diets, but I'm a reasonable weight, so they didn't really affect me or my face shape. I tried makeup, but ugh... I never really was an artist and it never really looked right on me.
Obsession never changed anything. I only ever tortured myself with my daily insecurities because I could never fix them for good.
I'm headed off to college, and I've had it with the lies. I'm a grown-up, and the lies that I've been telling myself all these years about being physically inferior are garbage. Garbage that I don't need or want. I'm starting to see myself as something God created for a reason. I've always known that beauty isn't everything, and now I'm coming to realize that truth in full. God gave me a purpose on this earth. Obviously, that's why I'm still here. If his purpose for me required that I be beautiful, I would be. I'm just as beautiful as I'm supposed to be. Maybe I'm not runway material. If I'm not, then I'm not supposed to be.
Although this frame of mind will most likely sound abrupt and less desirable to the reader, I assure you that it's superior to my previous state of mind. Coming to the realization that it doesn't really matter if I'm pretty or not has been one of the most freeing epiphanies in my entire life. I feel like my body and I are ready to conquer the world. Beautiful or not.
I happen to have this one friend who compliments me a lot. Most of the time, I just blush and look away, because I'm not only flattered but also slightly overwhelmed that this person would notice something specifically interesting about my appearance.
Truth be told, the aspects of my appearance that I like are my hair and my eyes. But these details seem dulled when compared to other women. I have long, blonde hair. It's natural. I like it. But that girl has longer, shinier, softer hair than I could ever hope for; that girl over there has better natural highlights. Whatever it is, some girl, somewhere, will always, always have better hair than me.
So, I learn to be lured into a false sense of esteem. I start to feel great about how I look, then the homecoming queen shakes her perfect hair, smiles her perfect smile, walks her perfect walk, giggles her perfect giggle, and I feel entirely, in every respect, ugly and alone.
I'm a good girl. I've always been taught that beauty is not wholly based on the outward. I know that pageants, prom, homecoming, etc. aren't the basis for what a person is like on the inside... but it still kills me to be ugly. I watched that video that Dove posted (see link here) and it never really had an impact on me. In my mind I could never relate to those girls because when I watched the video I thought that they were physically beautiful women and that I was different, that I was an exception to the laws of beauty.
I thought that their insecurities were inferior to mine, that their complaints about the everything from the length of their nose to the roundness of their face were all invalid because when I looked at their faces as a whole, I saw normal, pretty people. I assumed that when people looked at me they couldn't possibly see the pretty things because they were so overwhelmed by how my eyebrows are too dark, how my face has acne scars from high school, how my eyes bulge a little when I smile, and how my chin has the worst dimple ever, and how my nose was broken and never really repaired, so it's crooked.
People often marvel at how pretty people think themselves ugly. I don't. I know my flaws only too well, because I see them in the mirror every. single. morning. I see them in pictures, and even in the reflection when the computer screen goes dark. I fixate on them. I obsess over how to change them.
Comparison makes the whole situation unbearable sometimes. I'm not thin. My face has a --although I hate this word there is simply no replacement sufficient-- hearty, Polish look rather than a delicate, gentle, homecoming, prom queen, perfect yearbook picture look. I fought this for years. I tried diets, but I'm a reasonable weight, so they didn't really affect me or my face shape. I tried makeup, but ugh... I never really was an artist and it never really looked right on me.
Obsession never changed anything. I only ever tortured myself with my daily insecurities because I could never fix them for good.
I'm headed off to college, and I've had it with the lies. I'm a grown-up, and the lies that I've been telling myself all these years about being physically inferior are garbage. Garbage that I don't need or want. I'm starting to see myself as something God created for a reason. I've always known that beauty isn't everything, and now I'm coming to realize that truth in full. God gave me a purpose on this earth. Obviously, that's why I'm still here. If his purpose for me required that I be beautiful, I would be. I'm just as beautiful as I'm supposed to be. Maybe I'm not runway material. If I'm not, then I'm not supposed to be.
Although this frame of mind will most likely sound abrupt and less desirable to the reader, I assure you that it's superior to my previous state of mind. Coming to the realization that it doesn't really matter if I'm pretty or not has been one of the most freeing epiphanies in my entire life. I feel like my body and I are ready to conquer the world. Beautiful or not.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
James 3:14
But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth. (James 3:14 NIV)
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Who We Were
But my life is a wide spectrum of emotion. I was never (except when I was very young) tied down to one emotion at a time.
I'm grateful that I've lived a life full of emotion. Hunger and pain are very effective at making fulfillment and comfort more beautiful.
So, that's my past. Who I was? That's a different story. My experiences, especially with emotion, have led me to where I am now, and are still leading me towards maturity, strength, and capability.
However, emotional fortitude doesn't come from a simple and carefree life. I don't want to hold on to who I used to be any longer, because the old version of me was still struggling to understand her life's journey, and it was a tumultuous event when she did start to understand.
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