Resembling clarity

“Why aren’t you going?”

I looked up from my admin’s desk. We were frowning over an online form and discussing how this fee should be paid.

“Going to the conference?” I clarified, a bit confused over the arrival of one of the other fellows and her subsequent question. I like Winnie a great deal, and have noticed she’s looking more and more stressed lately.

“Yes! I’m not going to know anyone!”

“You’ll know people.” I soothed. “It’s mostly local labs, and you’re more connected here than I am.”

Jill finished up with the forms that would pay for yet another conference and I headed down the hall. My post-doc friend, Winnie, wandered with me, looking for a binder for her newly-printed manual.

“Honestly?” I offered. “I didn’t want to go. I have nothing to present, and while I’d love to hear what’s going on in the region, I’m selfish enough to want to collect my own data so I have something to present later on.”

“Me too. But I thought we should go.” Winnie said softly as we arrived in the copy room. She found her binder and a hole punch and I looked for paper clips.

“We should.” I agreed. “I was dreading my talk when it was time to register. I haven’t published some projects from grad school. I want to get started on some stuff I’ve been postponing.”

She was nodding along, and I felt badly as I looked down at the small box of clips in my hand. It’s just more excuses.

“I’m intimidated.” I confessed. “I know many people from here are going and I think they’re smart and productive and doing better than I am. I don’t want to feel inferior so I’m skipping it. I’d have to socialize, and I’m afraid people won’t like me – will think I’m not smart enough or don’t work hard enough or am too isolated within the group. All of which may be true, but I don’t want to think about it.”

Jill had walked in while we were talking and I turned to see her shaking her head at me.

“Katie, my dear.” She started, and I leaned into her when she put her arm around me. “I worry about you. You have a great personality – you’re easy to talk to, funny, and very sweet. People like you! Why wouldn’t they? And you’re smart – your work is interesting and we know you work hard.”

“I’m inconsistent.” I interrupted. I love hearing compliments – thrive on them, in fact. Will start to wither in their absence. But you can’t go too far – I do good work, yes, but it comes in bursts. I don’t show up every day and produce. Look at the blog! Sometimes I think it’s lovely – I'll read posts multiple times and think I wrote exactly what I meant. Other times I’ll wince when I glance through old pieces – thinking that my thoughts aren’t clear, stories are too long and convoluted, or that people could have taken away the wrong idea. It can be good, but it isn’t always.

Jill rolled her eyes and scolded. “You’re so hard on yourself! You fret over what people are thinking, but they’re not thinking badly of you at all! So much wasted energy.” She squeezed me tighter – whether with affection or exasperation I’m not sure – and I snuggled for a moment. Then she left us alone again.

Winnie continued to punch holes in her huge stack of paper, and not comfortable just standing around yet feeling it wasn’t time to leave, I began to places the pages in her binder.

“Are you OK?” I asked, feeling more stable after Jill’s little pep talk. It’s unfortunate, but I’m most receptive to other people’s needs after my own have been met. (It doesn’t escape me that I’m ashamed of a quality I think many people share.)

“I’m on probation.” She said with a sigh.

I waited for her to elaborate and couldn’t quiet my curiosity when she didn’t. So I put my gentle questioning skills to work and gathered details. Then I frowned and began nibbling on my lip. It’s a terrible nervous habit.

I went into my sympathy speech. I understand that I often want to vent – need someone to listen and acknowledge that it absolutely does suck or he certainly was an ass or that had been completely inappropriate. Reflect back, I remembered from my training as a peer counselor. Then attempt to comfort.

As I did that, I started to look at her – really look. Not just assume everything was fine and she was having a bad day. Winnie is married and has children. She’s involved in the community and stretched too thin at work and home. She looked unwell. A lovely woman, the dark circles under her eyes worried me when I took the time to really consider them. She was shaking slightly. I hadn't noticed before, but I could see it now.

“I think you need to take care of yourself.” I said softly, my hand on her arm. “This is hard, Winnie. I know. But if you can’t handle the workload – and it’s incredibly intense for you – I think it’s good to acknowledge that and ask for help. Prioritize and do what you can. Sleep. Be kinder to yourself.”

We continued to talk and I accompanied her to one office to get one issue resolved. Sometimes that first step in fixing a problem is most difficult. Inertia and all that.

I mention this because it’s difficult for me to see people clearly sometimes. I like to assume that everything’s fine, but will offer more of my attention when someone demands it. Once I engage, I’m focused and can squint at you until I feel I understand. Ask questions, figure out what’s up with a given moment. I think it’s much harder for me to evaluate myself. I tend toward negative, not because I believe I’m inadequate or awful, but because I want to predict the worst that others could be thinking. If I think it first, it’s less hurtful somehow. But when it starts preventing me from attending conferences, puts me in a panic before a fairly routine seminar, I likely have a problem. But I live in my head all the time – it’s difficult to make a good estimation of how I’m doing. I’m just me.

The last post was meant to be funny. I laughed during and after the conversation about being pregnant. My parents adore me – Dad was up on the roof on Thursday, fixing those shingles (literally, not figuratively). Mom weeded my flower beds in the searing heat. Dad and I attended an event this morning where I got sunburned and was miserably hot. Mom cleaned (apparently I missed some spots) while we were gone and I returned home to help her grill (They bought it for me last time they were here.) and finish up the 3 side dishes.

“It’s like a holiday!” I marveled. “I usually have one thing for dinner. Two if I’m really ambitious. But four? Wow.”

I’m blessed, I think. I was a bit too spoiled, perhaps. I expect people to find me endearing and want to fix my problems a bit too often. My parents have always been supportive – thrilled with my accomplishments, soothing in the face of my defeats. I’ve disappointed them with my social skills, and continue to do so. But people you love can point out problem areas. It’s a parental responsibility to correct bad behavior, and they haven’t let go of the habit. I’m an adult, yes, but until they hand me over to some nice man, I’m still theirs to nudge, guide, and question.

Reading your comments – appreciating them, though I wasn’t upset by the conversation at all – didn’t see it as such a big deal and included it to lengthen a perfunctory post – offered a bit of clarity to my situation. I get along very well with Mom and Dad. But I’ve wondered over the past couple days whether it’s because I back down, let them win, bite back arguments though I know I’m right. They are my parents, after all, and I want to give them respect because I love them a great deal.

Sitting here on the love seat tonight after a trip to work to get some data I was missing, I looked at Mom to my left then Dad to my right and felt smothered. I’d been near tears trying to discuss dating and marriage with Mom – she rode with me as I headed back and forth to my current institution and inadvertently reinforced every awful thought I have about myself in that area. Dad – offering no help with dinner or clean-up, critical of everything on television and in the neighborhood – made me wonder if Mom was right to caution me that I was looking for something – someone – that isn’t out there. I simply expect too much and my stubborn refusal to settle is going to leave me old and alone. Which is fine, she conceded. I don’t have to be married to be happy. But I do need to acknowledge the outcome of my current choices.

I’m torn. On one hand, they aren’t helping. It just gives support to some internal self-loathing. On the other hand, I love them. Completely. And they me. They tease and don’t expect that I’ll take them seriously. They offer advice because they want me to be happy, and if I say that I want to be with someone, they feel obligated to offer their thoughts on how I’m sabotaging much hope of that. It’s difficult for me to figure out. I don’t know that I ever will. I'm too close to it and rather than allowing some distance to find myself, I cling to what I've always known.

But I’m having a good weekend. I enjoy having them here, though the long times between visits are making me a bit more sensitive to some comments I’d otherwise ignore. I need to make this all fit, but I find myself unable to think very well when the house is so busy and loud. I'm enjoying the quiet after they've gone to sleep and know I need to rest myself to prepare for another busy day tomorrow. I struggle to find balance, but then maybe that's to be expected. I certainly won't figure it out tonight.