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Of Parent 1 and Parent 2, adventures in caregiving, and adoptee angst mixed with gratitude |
| I realized today I spend a disproportionate amount of time wondering if people are mad at me, and because I was in a mood of self-inquiry, I turned to Google and found this from Vogue...an article called Is Everyone Mad at Me? by Michelle Ruiz From the article: When I get that pang of, Holy shit, is [insert person] mad at me? and start to retread everything I have said or done that might be misconstrued—or not—I try to remind myself that the concern is A) a waste of time and B) pretty narcissistic. It’s almost a relief when you realize that other people’s worlds don’t revolve around you. and Lina Perl, Psy.D., a clinical psychologist in New York, says the “Are you mad at me?” quandary comes up “all the time” with her female clients, prompting her to ask: “Who in your life, in a formative way, did you have to take care of their anger for them?” It usually turns out to have been a parent or a sibling, but it could also be a result of lingering feelings from that common middle-school practice: girl groups icing out one member at a time (which is, in itself, indicative of how women are taught to treat their emotions). “It’s a rite of passage specifically for women because women aren’t given many outlets for effectively expressing anger,” Perl says. “It can end up being held in very passive-aggressive way.” Both of these things rang true for me personally, and made me think: am I the narcissist? - although some would argue that self-inquiry and narcissism are mutually exclusive. Like, the very fact you are worried about the possibility of being a narcissist means you're not a narcissist. Then again, everything happens on a spectrum, so maybe I've got the tendencies. I don't like admitting that and might think about it too much if I wasn't so good at self-distraction. I was raised an only child, my mother very very concerned with what other people are going to think, or are thinking, or say about you after they think, about anything and everything. And the whole "who in your life, in a formative way, did you have to take care of their anger for them?" -- I mean, I understood that immediately because my mother and I always had to take care of my father's anger. I suppose if you've never had to take care of someone's anger, you might find the concept confusing. What does it look like? How does it play out? Here's one way, circa 1976 (I am age 7) (an amalgam): Jim (my father) gets angry about something, or is just in a bad mood. My mother (Jeanne) and I are magically transported to the middle of a land mine and we have no idea where to step. Inevitably, unwittingly, one of us detonates a mine; Jim yells and screams, and we react accordingly. Maybe my mother goes stony and quiet. Maybe I start to cry. This makes him angrier, because we are not allowed to react - that would require him to realize he has hurt us. Eventually he cools off and decides he wants to be in a good mood again. Except he has changed the mood of the house with his anger. We, however, are expected to change right back with him to happy family house, and it just doesn't work that way. So now he's angry at us for being cold/sad/not "snapping out of it." We are being trained to take care of his anger. Next time we'll do better. Next time we won't step on the mine, or if we do we'll pretend the explosion doesn't hurt at all. Except it always hurts. It's exhausting. And this, too from the article: "Women aren’t given many outlets for effectively expressing anger." YES. At least for me. This journal right here is where I can express my anger, and that's about it. But maybe that's enough. |
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