Observed

It was about a year ago that it finally occurred to me why I became so grumpy and unlike my carefree Caren-self whenever our parents came to visit.  We have company all the time, and I feel like I’m running a bed and breakfast some weeks during the summer.  But it’s mostly been when the parents would come that I’d become irritable.  It wasn’t the extra people around or the work load, it had to be something else.  The longer I live, the more I want to get to the bottom of things and to figure out why I behave the way I do so I can change and do better.  Maybe you’re totally past this, I’m still working on it.  But I made huge strides this summer just from pinpointing what was going on.  What I realized is pretty obvious now but helpful as I go forward.

Basically I hate being observed.  I hate people watching my reaction—to anything.  I want to blend in, be in the background, be the helper.  I don’t want people to anticipate how I’ll react, I don’t want to be a performer of any kind.  I like real, I hate fake, and I can’t act to save my life.  And so it’s always bothered me, even as a young teenager, when people have watched my reactions. I hated those gatherings on Christmas with my extended family.  We would save all my birthday gifts and open them in front of everyone once the whole family had gathered in our tiny living room in the afternoon.  What could be worse than already feeling awkward as a teenager and then having uncles aunts and grandparents watching you like you’re on stage?  I hate bridal showers and baby showers where I’m the guest of honor.  Thankfully I’m past that stage.  But that’s why I hate the idea of surprise birthday parties or any gathering where I’m expected to act in a prescribed way.  That’s just it, I can’t act or pretend.  I’m hard-core honest and authentic, so it’s completely out of my comfort zone to act giddy or thrilled or to have to keep smiling… it taxes and exhausts me.

I’ve felt this way throughout my life.  Which is also why I hate charades and other acting games that people like to play at parties.  I don’t mind singing with a (huge) group, and for some reason I don’t mind teaching classes or giving talks, even in front of hundreds of people.  I’ve concluded that they aren’t stressful because I’m prepared and have notes.  But to just wing it, even when giving a comment in Sunday School, I get flustered.  I want to share what I’m thinking and feeling (which is why I write), but I like to get it out quickly so we don’t have to focus on me for long.  I don’t want people to make assessments about me.

So all of this sort of came to me as I was trying to figure out my grumpiness with my loved ones.  I’ve always, always been embarrassed and so remorseful when they’ve left, regretting my poor behavior.  But it’s sort of like when you’re tired and overwhelmed and maybe even hormonal, you can see what you’re doing and yet you’re helpless to change.  And that’s exactly why I decided to get to the bottom of things; it had been going on for too many years and I wanted to be a sweeter daughter and daughter-in-law to these parents I love so much.

But it’s sort of ironic that I would even feel like this because most of the time I simply don’t care what people think any more.  I’m too old and too forgetful to have to keep all that straight or to waste energy trying to remember who I’m supposed to be with who.  Good grief, who does that?  I’m pretty sure about who I am and what I’m hoping to become.  I figure no one knows my heart like God and I do, and that’s all that matters.  If I look like a mess on the outside, so be it.  But with my parents and in-laws… that has always been a bit different.  Partly because we all revert back to how we were when we were growing up when we reunite with our parents and siblings, at least somewhat.  And I think all kids want to make their parents proud of them.  I’ve come to see it’s because I respect them so much.  They’ve been such good parents themselves, that I want them to be proud of me and the family we’ve devoted ourselves to.  I want so much for Todd’s parents to feel ok about who he married, I don’t want them to wish he had chosen a different wife.  I want them all to know their grandkids are in good hands, that their parents are invested in teaching and raising them.  It probably doesn’t look like how they did it, so maybe I think it’s not as good? Do they think I’m being too lenient? Would they have handled the situation differently? Do they feel they have to correct my kids because they don’t think I’m doing it right? Do I push too hard? Require too much? Does it seem like I’m being disrespectful when I talk with my husband openly?  I have no idea!

But how often do you ever get feedback?  About anything?  Maybe if you have a job.  Or if you have kids.  (Both usually only when it’s negative.) But not normally; we may think something, but we rarely ever vocalize what we appreciate.  As a words person, it’s huge to me to receive a compliment.  I can live for weeks—years even—thinking back on a nice thing someone has said to me because it reminds me and encourages me to live up to whatever potential that person saw in me.  But in the one area of my life I care the very, very most about—my marriage and my family—I get the least.  I think that’s true for all of us. And so maybe subconsciously I’ve been afraid they didn’t like or approve of how I was raising their grandkids or treating their son; I never heard otherwise and I think my anxieties got me all worked up.  So sorting this out in my mind was revelatory!  In realizing the why, I could settle and move forward.  By that, I mean I finally admitted it and told them how sorry I was for acting the way I always had.  And told them I finally understood why.  Just that simple realization has relieved my fretfulness.

I know this doesn’t apply to many of you, but maybe someone out there can relate.  I guess I just figure if I’m feeling something, maybe someone else has felt it too.  I can’t believe that in a world with this many people, I’m that unusual.  And so that’s why I write so personally and frankly, in hopes that we can feel more connected and less isolated in what we’re going through.

But as I thought of writing this, I wondered what the point was. I guess I just learned some things that might help someone else.  One is that by taking a step back and asking a few questions, we can usually figure out why we do what we do and then make course corrections if we need to.  If I had continued to go on auto-pilot whenever our parents came, I would continue to have regrets and be embarrassed by my behavior once they left and our relationships wouldn’t be as loving and close as they could be; maybe they would stay away because it wasn’t very comfortable to visit.  But now that I’ve come to understand the situation better, I can change.  Another thing I need to remember is to go to Heavenly Father when I need to know how I’m doing, I know He will always have loving suggestions for me. It takes the pressure off me, wondering how I seem as a parent to even our parents who we look up to so much.  I’ve also learned to share my concerns with the people I love, to be more honest with my feelings.  It’s super hard for me, but almost always it works out and we end up feeling closer.  And finally, I’ve learned that the people I love to spend time with are true friends.  Hopefully they aren’t judging me and holding my weaknesses against me.  I don’t need to worry that they’re observing me with a critical eye; if anything, our parents and the people we love are observing us so they can know how to love and serve us better, isn’t that what we’re doing when we’re observing them?  It’s as simple as that.