Last night I was awake at 1am, unable to sleep, because I had just woken and fed the baby.
Tonight, I am awake at 1am, unable to sleep, because the baby hasn't woken yet.
In my tossing and turning and anxiousness because the baby wasn't crying, A, whom I was sleeping next to, and who had just clocked me in the head in her sleep, woke and started quietly crying.
"Oh no, just don't get louder and wake the baby!" my most contradictory brain thought.
"What's wrong?" I asked her.
"I don't want to sleep alone." She told me.
At which point I proceeded to not really listen to what I had written about last time. While I didn't try to talk her out of thinking she was going to be alone sometimes (like when I couldn't sleep), I tried to wrap up the whole interaction immediately. Turns out, I'm really bad with letting my kid have her worries or pain and sitting with her in it. I'm scared of where it is going, that it will get worse if I sit there with her in that emotional space. I'm scared that it will be about me, probably.
Let's just agree, I'm not very good at staying with her when she is sad. Or mad. About something that involves me. That is the part I personally cannot tolerate. And wish I could.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Tolerating someone else's suffering
I think one of the hardest things to learn is to let someone you love be in pain. To not try to take it away with one or a 100 different suggestions on "how to fix it", or to not just ignore it and tell them to "cheer up, it gets better." But to just be able to tolerate another person suffering, and to be able to sit with them, in person, on the phone, over email and let them have their process. And yet, I think it is the most useful thing, the most helpful, that any of us can do for someone who is going through some difficult time.
And I think it is selfish to try to fix it or make it go away, because we ourselves feel uncomfortable with it. It is not ours to dismiss or to pretend to take on for the other person. And it is one of the least helpful things a person can do.
I've learned this from the really excellent therapists in my life (and it is part of how I think you spot an excellent one). Their capacity to sit with me, in tears, and instead of trying to talk me past it, to say "I see your pain. I'm sorry. Tell me about it." and then just listen. Because I also think most of us are strong enough to endure much of the pain if we have someone to share it with, to air it out in front of and bring it into the light with. To talk about it and diffuse some of its power and know we are not alone in seeing it. To name it and know that it isn't so overwhelming that it incapacitates even those around us.
Because here is the thing. I've realized that breastfeeding is just getting more (not less) tense for me and Jonas. I can't feed him when he's sleepy during the day because that isn't helping his napping and nighttime sleep. I can feed him in the middle of the night. Other times, he's too distracted and the milk flows just so much more slowly than from the bottle. And I'm going to have to stop all this trying, which just ends up in tears and irritation. I can pump during the day and feed him at night while it still works. And what I don't need, is for someone to try to stop my tears, because then I don't get to mourn this ending, this never-quite-found-our-groove. And I don't get over it and find peace with the new solution. Because it is sad, and I will need to cry some so that I'm not crying more later. And so often every day. Because, sure, you can find 100 things I could try to not need to stop, and none of them make our family more peaceful with more time to be in the present with each other. And you can tell me "at least you fed him this long" and that isn't the point for me. The most helpful things right now have been: (1) people who have been in a similar situation, whom I've found on blogs, and (2) people who have just expressed their sympathy and let me be. May I be so gracious as to offer similar behavior to others in the future.
And I think it is selfish to try to fix it or make it go away, because we ourselves feel uncomfortable with it. It is not ours to dismiss or to pretend to take on for the other person. And it is one of the least helpful things a person can do.
I've learned this from the really excellent therapists in my life (and it is part of how I think you spot an excellent one). Their capacity to sit with me, in tears, and instead of trying to talk me past it, to say "I see your pain. I'm sorry. Tell me about it." and then just listen. Because I also think most of us are strong enough to endure much of the pain if we have someone to share it with, to air it out in front of and bring it into the light with. To talk about it and diffuse some of its power and know we are not alone in seeing it. To name it and know that it isn't so overwhelming that it incapacitates even those around us.
Because here is the thing. I've realized that breastfeeding is just getting more (not less) tense for me and Jonas. I can't feed him when he's sleepy during the day because that isn't helping his napping and nighttime sleep. I can feed him in the middle of the night. Other times, he's too distracted and the milk flows just so much more slowly than from the bottle. And I'm going to have to stop all this trying, which just ends up in tears and irritation. I can pump during the day and feed him at night while it still works. And what I don't need, is for someone to try to stop my tears, because then I don't get to mourn this ending, this never-quite-found-our-groove. And I don't get over it and find peace with the new solution. Because it is sad, and I will need to cry some so that I'm not crying more later. And so often every day. Because, sure, you can find 100 things I could try to not need to stop, and none of them make our family more peaceful with more time to be in the present with each other. And you can tell me "at least you fed him this long" and that isn't the point for me. The most helpful things right now have been: (1) people who have been in a similar situation, whom I've found on blogs, and (2) people who have just expressed their sympathy and let me be. May I be so gracious as to offer similar behavior to others in the future.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Setting the bar low
Two cans of ready-to-go caffeine in the middle. Two small, shelf storage containers for my coffee at work.
And a photo orientation that pretty much sums up how life is going right now. Just trying to make it in to work on the days I'm supposed to be there, and keep up with the minimum I need to do.
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