I didn’t do it.
I swear, I don’t even know how to make those swoopy graffiti letters.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (1)10 signs that elephants are near, part 2
In my previous post, I listed five phrases that should warn you that there’s an elephant somewhere in the room, suggesting that you protect yourself accordingly. Here are five more:
6. “But I’m your partner/parent/relative/sibling/friend.” (Before-the-fact version) This person wants (or worse, expects) you to let her do whatever she wants. The fact that someone has sex with you, birthed you, raised you, grew up with you, or held your hair as you puked after that unfortunate Jagermeister incident does not obligate you to bend your rules, ignore your ethics, violate your bottom line, or otherwise make an exception for her. Someone who loves and respects you will abide by your boundaries.
7. “But I’m your partner/parent/relative/sibling/friend.” (After-the-fact version) This person isn’t even bothering to warn you about his plans to trample your boundaries. He just waltzes blithely over them while insisting that your relationship gives him the right to treat you badly — and what’s more, that you’re the one in the wrong for not liking it.
8. “It’s not you, it’s me.” It’s never one or the other. It’s the combination of the two. Don’t blame yourself, don’t blame the other person, don’t try to change yourself or the other person. Just accept that this is how it is, and move on.
9. “It’s all your fault.” (alternatively: “It’s all my fault.”) No, it’s not. As in #8, it takes two — even if one of you contributed 99% to the problem and the other just 1%. Own your part (even if it was just to put up with the situation five minutes too long) and vow to do it differently next time. And while you’re at it, study up on the Karpman Drama Triangle. The only way to win this particular game is to stop playing.
10. “I love you.” This can be a lovely sentiment. But it can also be a bribe someone is offering in order to get something else in return — cash, sex, attention, reassurance, forgiveness, or (you guessed it) an exception to your personal rules. You’ve probably done it yourself. I know I have. And you know how it feels. Check for dangling strings before you say “I love you, too.”
Thoughts, questions, additions to the list?
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (0)10 signs that elephants are near, part 1
When people tell you who they are, believe them. – Maya Angelou
***
Like many people, I grew up in a family where enormous multicolored elephants lumbered regularly through the room. Not only did no one acknowledge they were there, it was entirely possible that someone would proclaim loudly that there was no such thing as an elephant in the first place and that there must be something wrong with anyone who imagined seeing one.
When you’re a kid, entirely dependent on the adults around you, and you get in trouble with them for pointing out that there’s a pachyderm in the parlor, you figure out in a hurry that your life will be a lot easier if you teach yourself to ignore it, or at least tiptoe around its droppings. When you reach adulthood, though, this adaptive behavior is less than useful; it turns into an astonishing ability to pull the wool over your own eyes with friends, family, and lovers alike.
It’s taken me much of my adult life to learn when someone’s words are redolent of elephant shit. This list of the top ten signs of a circus animal infestation is not definitive or complete. It’s just a starting place for discussion and later posts. Here are the first five:
1. “I’m doing this for your own good.” You’re dealing with someone who believes it’s okay to treat you poorly — and trying to convince you that you should be grateful for it, to boot. Run like hell.
2. In response to a direct request: “Maybe.” (alternatively, “We’ll see.”) This person doesn’t want to say yes, but isn’t willing to give you a direct no, either. Maybe she’s afraid of making you angry or upset. Maybe he’s hoping he can put you off until you forget about it. Maybe she’s keeping you in reserve in case she doesn’t get a better offer. Maybe he just doesn’t know the answer yet — but don’t bet on it. If you ask when you can expect a definite answer, and you get more wiggle words, “maybe” means “no” and “we’ll see” means “we won’t.”
3. “I’ve never been in love.” This is only endearing when it’s coming from a teenager. Otherwise, it’s an entire parade ground of red flags. Someone who says this may not intend to hurt you, but he also doesn’t intend to love you. In fact, he’s making it pretty clear he intends not to.
4. “You’re overreacting.” Could be. But probably not. Life is not a sitcom, and things usually are pretty much the way they look.
5. “You’re too good for me.” (alternatively: “You’re so much smarter than me” or “You’re so much better at xyz than I am” or any other waify statement) Warning! Someone is trying to manipulate you into thinking, “Oh, this person has me up on a pedestal, I need to prove that my feelings are genuine and not just pity.” And then you’re right where she wants you: trying to win her over. Remember: being controlled by someone’s (real or feigned) weakness is still being controlled.
Part 2 here. In the meantime, do you have any of your own?
Filed under Uncategorized, progress | Comment (1)First meetings
I first got online in college, in the mid-’80s, using BITNET to flirt with talk to people at other colleges via Relay, the forerunner of IRC. In 1992, I joined the WELL and got my first dial-up ISP account. In other words, in Internet years, I am older than dirt. I say all this not to brag about my practically paleolithic status, but to explain that developing friendships online and transitioning them to the real world afterwards (if at all) is a very familiar concept to me indeed. Still, there’s always something both exciting and scary about meeting people for the first time after having talked to them often for a long time, and even more so when it’s someone with whom I’ve developed a genuine friendship. Will they like me? Will I like them? And then what?
In about seven hours, I’m heading to the airport to pick up someone who’s been a mainstay of my online life for most of the last decade. We chat on IM almost every workday – about writing, health, shoes (oh, how we talk about shoes), love, desire, motivation, family, therapy — and I can safely say she knows things about me that very few other people do. And yet in all these years, we’ve only spoken on the phone once, and we’ve never met.
I can’t wait to find out if we’re still friends in person!
Filed under triumphs | Comments (6)The daily fear
Most days, it’s easy to forget that I live in a place where at any moment the ground could literally shift beneath my feet. Today, not so much. It’s the 20th anniversary of the Loma Prieta quake, and the local paper is filled with reflections and predictions.
I wasn’t anywhere near San Francisco when the 1989 quake hit. I was working at a newspaper in a small town in central New Hampshire. But I was dating someone who had recently moved across country to take a job at the newspaper in Gilroy, Calif., the garlic capital of the world — and pretty much right on top of the quake’s epicenter. It was about 5pm his time, about 8pm my time, and we were on the phone, when suddenly we were interrupted by three short, sharp squeals like a car suddenly braking. And mid-sentence, he blurted, “Shit, I think we’re having an earthquake.”
The next 15 seconds were the most surreal conversation I’ve ever had: there I sat, in my living room, while 3,000 miles away someone delivered a terrified real-time narration of what was happening around him. The room was shaking, he could see cars in the parking lot of his apartment building actually bouncing off the ground, it’s still going, he was trying to get to a doorframe to stand under it but couldn’t walk straight, oh my god, oh my god, it’s not stopping, holy shit. I was yelling at him to put down the goddamn phone and go outside. And then it stopped and we were still connected, and I was saying “Are you all right? Are you all right?” while he was saying “I’m okay, I’m fine, I think I’m safe.” And we sat there for a minute just listening to each other breathe, and then he said, “Don’t hang up yet. If you hang up I know I won’t be able to make another call.” He gave me the phone numbers of a couple of his friends and asked me to call them and have them call other people and let everyone know he was all right. And then we sort of braced ourselves and said goodbye, not knowing how long it would be before we could talk again.
I thought about that call a lot when I moved west myself, ten years ago. I knew I needed to assume another earthquake would hit, that I should have emergency supplies and a first aid kit and a “go bag” (packed with the bare minimum I would need if I had to grab self and cat and run for my life). But here it is, a decade after my arrival and two decades after what everyone agrees was not the Big One, not nearly — and I’m not prepared. Not at all. I don’t have a go bag. I don’t have emergency supplies. I don’t have an extra week’s worth of my prescriptions. I don’t even have a pair of sturdy shoes and a flashlight next to my bed in case something happens in the middle of the night and I have to get the hell out of Dodge in the dark.
And that’s foolish. And I need to do something about it. Today is a good day to start.
Filed under Uncategorized, fears | Comments (2)