So... hi. It's been two years since I posted here. A lot has happened. It was indeed a mess, and it was hardly beautiful. Let's be honest about that part.
The short story is, I took a "personal leave" from my Master's Degree. My husband and I had a lot of critical conversations. Actually, now that I think about it, he was far from the only person with whom I had to have such critical conversations. Indeed, I've had to emit the dreaded words, "We need to talk" to waaaaay more people than I am comfortable listing on a blog.
To those people: your welcome. Y'know, for not listing you on this blog.
Hi. My name's Renay, I'm 34, and I'm still adulting. It's tough, ya'll. Primarily, talking to people is tough. And that's what emotionally healthy adults do. They talk to one another.
I know. Some of you might be thinking...Renay? Extroverted Renay? Extroverted Renay--who's studying to be a therapist, mind you--has a difficult time talking? To people? Are we talking about the same person, here?
In a word--yup.
It took my preschooler--almost kindergartener--to reveal this mind-blowing truth to me. When he gets hurt by a classmate--y'know, standard stuff, like, "Hey, it was my turn to swing on the swings!"--I encourage him to go talk to the person and tell them that he is hurting.
Wrap your brain around that for a minute.
I'm a mom, and intuitively, I know that for our family, for how my kid is wired, the best thing I can do is encourage my empathetic kid to use his superpower and feel, man. And when he does, it's amazing. I've seen this kid in action. He gets hurt, walks up to the perpetrator, and says, "Hey, it hurt--I felt disappointed--when you took my turn on the swing that I'd been waiting for. Can you please not do that again?" When the mean-kid-in-question sees the kid he just pushed around (sometimes literally) walk right up to him and share his hurt, most times, he is stunned. Like, mouth-open stunned.
I wonder what goes through the head of such a kid when a person shares like that.
That's necessary feedback, people. For good or ill, we have an effect on the world around us. And quite possibly, there are more than a few people in this world engaging in jerk-like behavior who are oblivious to just how hurtful they are being. What's normal to them may be hurtful to us--but we can't fault someone for what they don't know about us. Furthermore, our silence gives the pain nowhere to go except sit there. Our silence increases our pain...and increases the likelihood that someone else might endure similar pain to ours.
We need to take what's ours--like maybe that we're occasionally a space cadet and were possibly daydreaming when it was finally our turn for the swing--and give back what remains. We are people who exist. Who take up space. And that space, for whatever reason, hurts. If for no other reason but for our own self-care, we can't stay silent about pain. That very real pain contains valuable data for the environments in which we exist. Environments need to know.
And the longer we wait to share our hurt, the longer we are silent, the less momentum we have for the giving back. I've watched shotput. It is hard to toss a dead weight.
"Sharing is caring" is not just for french fries and nacho chips. Sharing feelings isn't just the superpower of my empathetic kid. Preschoolers and adults are not so different, and I realized this over the span of these past two years. I shared. I talked. A lot. And I'm in a better place, now.
I'm the closest to my family that I've ever been. I'm back in grad school. My job is taking on a new, exciting shape. We're building a unique community among our neighbors. I'm making friends.
What if changing the world is as simple as letting the world know what it's like being in it?
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