The other side

Not everything that happens at Market is wonderful. Most of it is reliably so. I realized this week that where I like to set up is one of the quiet centers of the maelstrom. Even when the edges of the blocks are wild and thumping with rhythms and people passing in every direction, in our neighborhood people can eddy a bit and slow down. We can hear ourselves think. For some reason several people this week asked me if I would take less for my hats. I always say no with a big smile, and will give reasons if pressed. I find it coercive, and I don't get why I should give up my profit, the part I live on, for a stranger so they can feel dominant and special. The price is the price.

Someone I used to know when I worked as an instructional assistant was stopped for a moment in front of my booth, and I called out to him. He didn't say much, except that his mother had died. I jumped from my chair in shock and though I was unable to be of much help to him, I gave him my phone and email so he can contact me if he wants to talk about it.

I was his one-on-one assistant for a few years starting in first grade, when his Asperger's Syndrome diagnosis was a new one, and together he and I and his family and teachers studied everything we could find about the disorders associated with the syndrome. He had a pretty hard time adapting to school, and the school had a hard time learning too. The whole experience took a big toll on us all and his mother dedicated much of her life to it. Things were very intense.

And yet, he grew up and through most of his difficulties, and now her fiercely burning being has changed form. I'm feeling a complicated grief.

Complicated, indeed. My ex-partner called me this week to complain about my last blog entry. He told me I am Soooo Complicated. He apparently doesn't know what a comment like that says about him. Anyway he basically failed to read and understand the entry and tried to run some guilt on me about my failure to mention an extremely generous and lovely gift I received from his current girlfriend.

It was a beautiful gift. She went all out and filled the basket in the picture with goodies, some of which are shown. Many are eaten. I potted the cyclamen and it looks great in the pot she included. I really appreciated the gift! I thanked her a couple of times.

He tried to shame me though, for being ungrateful, and I ended up telling him about a whole raft of the things he does that don't work for me. It was almost all behavior he could improve with just a little research into NVC, which ironically I mentioned in the very same blog.

A little research. Some thoughtful consideration of the things that don't work so well, with some attention to improving them. I took it for granted that all people do this, but apparently some people don't. I lost patience with him and said quite a few things that I have mostly kept to myself regarding how he deals with me. I doubt he heard them. Many times people tend to get stuck in their own hurt and can't really hear what others are trying to tell them. It takes a very open listening style to hear criticism without hurt.

I'm showing a picture of the gift and some of the other cards I received, not because he wanted me to, but because I agree that I seemed ungrateful. One of the things I told him was that he doesn't get to say what I write in my blog. It's personal. Read it or don't.

I'm trying to stick to the positive, but life just doesn't work that way. It's just as important to process the difficult things as it is to celebrate the lovely ones. It's tough to get the balance right. Things we don't plan, come to make us think in new ways or go back to thinking in some old ones. I don't think about my relationships with that ex- or that student and his mother in the same ways I thought when I was immersed in working within them. Most of it is gone, but what remains is whether or not we greet each other with respect, kindness, and a renewed try for improvement.

That's what I want from relationships. One of the reasons we aren't together is that he sat on the couch and told me he wasn't going to change. I was in my early forties, a fairly new mother, and changing a lot right then. Our orientation seemed to be at opposition.

That breakup led to the job and that led to the exploration of neurology and behavior and a lot of therapy. I'm better for it all, no question, but I would not want to repeat any of it. I've struggled a lot with the past and how to integrate the lessons of it without being disturbed forever. I had to change. I wanted to change. I still do.

I told the ex- he would be better off if I didn't write about him in my blog. He might have even more issues with the aftermath of his issue. The concepts of NVC, the various definitions of violence, are useful information. They're not that hard to grasp. Coercion and shaming and passive-aggressive manipulation are tiring and don't work well. You might get your short-term needs met, but you aren't going to have the life you would have if you had just done a little research and a little introspection. Maybe some journaling. It might be complicated, might be very complicated.

Because stuff comes at you. You have to be able to stay grounded and deal with it. You have to learn something about the underlying needs that so many people can't really verbalize, but they usually express, and can be helped to express in ways that will lead to them actually being heard, acknowledged, and even occasionally met. It's important.

See you in the eddy. Wear your life jacket anyway, even though the waters seem calm. Learn about what causes you to shut down, to melt down. Figure out the triggers to your irrationality. There is a sequence, and while it can not always be stopped or prevented, it gets easier every time, especially if you have hope that someone is listening, someone understands. That's what helped my student and his mother and I get through our hard times. We could have done better, if we knew then what we know now.

So we will do better now. It was good to see my student, pretty grown up. He's a painter, and I can't wait to see his art. We might do some work together. I think that would feel good.

Change can be okay, even pleasant. Anyway, it happens. Rest in peace, N., and strength to your family. I'll be thinking about you.