Real Human Emotions

[doormouse]

Real Human Emotions
I decided years ago that emotions are inconvenient at best. So I try very hard to avoid them and for the most part, try to pretend I'm a Vulcan. Which doesn't work well as I have an inadequately developed intellect and it presupposes that others will respond logically. But the point is, I try to stay out of emotion and in logic. I'm sure my children would tell you that this has made me seem cold and emotionally unavailable.
Every now and then, my avoidance of emotion really bites me on the ass.
This past week I have had to deal with three potential deaths.
1. The father of a subordinate had heart surgery 1,500 miles away and bled out post-op. He was stabilized, but my girl spent the week torn between "do I run to California right now", or "do I wait and see". As her supervisor, I had to coordinate advanced leave requests, assure her that I and the company would support what ever she needed to do, and be a friend and a mother to the poor girl.
2. My Aunt in Oklahoma is in congestive heart failure. She is old, frail, and this time, may not recover. I can't begin to tell what this woman has meant to me; I can't confront the possibility of the loss; and I can't go to her. So I shrug my shoulders and say "she's had a good life and there's nothing I can do". I've shared my real feelings on the matter with no one. (I just skated around it and didn't share them with you either.)
3. My Mother, 1,000 miles away, has severe pneumonia and they have found a mass on her lung. It may or may not be the pneumonia and she may or may not have to have lung surgery. She is 73, obese and not in good health in general. She may or may not survive, and I really cannot go to Colorado until/unless the situation becomes critical. Last night, while discussing this with my middle son, he broke down sobbing and I sat there wondering why he was so upset. Then it hit me: Nana could be dying and he cares. Why am I acting like it's no big deal? Hm. Nana could die. OK so what are we doing about Christmas?
In the midst of all of this, I began coordinating with relatives all over the country trying to plan a family reunion. It looks like we may settle on Denver. We could use my cousin Neva's huge house and yard as a meeting/jumping off point, and there's a lovely park three block away. Lots to do in Denver; sounds good.
Then it hit me.
The last time I was in Denver was 6 years ago, when my only sibling, my older brother, was murdered. We gathered at Neva's after the funeral. I walked with my step-brothers to the park where Roy and I played as children and past the house Roy and I grew up in.
All the pain, anguish, and horror of his death crashed down on me and now I'm crying like I never could six years ago. I miss my brother. My mother is sick and I can't help her.
I want Roy back and I want Mom to come home so I can take care of her.
I feel helpless and I feel sad.
And I wish I were a Vulcan.
And thank you for listening.

 

[doormouse]

Of course if I'm ever going to get my heart and my head real, it would help if I could be honest. Roy was not murdered; he committed suicide.

 

[Joe]

To feel is to be human and to be human is to suffer, it seems. What then is the point of feeling and as a result, suffering? Do we need to suffer just because we feel?

Suffering is always the result of negative feeling or emotions, not positive ones. Just as we can have positive emotions that are misguided and later lead to suffering, we can assume that the same applies to negative emotions and the suffering that they cause.

Suffering results from negative emotions but the negative emotions and therefore the suffering are often caused by wrong data and assumptions.

What may be the case then is that emotions, particularly negative emotions, serve as an opportunity, a challenge, for us to learn more about reality and Truth, one experience, one negative emotion, at a time. Negative emotions are there to be used, they provide a shock, by which we can be momentarily jolted awake, and in that moment we have an opportunity to assess the Truth of the situation, even if the Truth is simply that we do not have enough data to know the reality of the situation, which in turn would logically lead any truth seeker to seek greater Truth, and greater Truth is always best achieved with an open mind.

There are, of course, other types of emotions, such a grief or "heartache", which while ostensibly negative, are not always based on wrong data but simply a function of our humanity, our ability to connect with another person, to love them and to miss their presence in our lives. For these, I can offer no intellectualization, other than to say that, being connected with the heart and feelings of empathy, they are what make us human and that they too may lead us to a greater understanding of the Truth of human life and what and why it is.

Mansur al Hallaj, a disciple of the great Sufi Sheikh Junaid of Baghdad, said:

"When Truth has overwhelmed a human heart, it empties it of all that is not Truth. When God loves a being, he kills everything that is not Him."

Nur ad-Din Abd ar-Rahman Jami one of the last great Sufi poets of Persia wrote:

"I was a hidden treasure and I loved to be known, so I created humankind in order that I may be known."

Joe

 

[doormouse]

Thanks so much Joe. I'm not suffering; just, as you said, grieving. Wrapped myself in a warm blanket, had some oatmeal, watched a sad movie about brothers who loved, fought and died. Had a good cry while I remembered all that was sweet and good about my brother. And remembered that my brother died because he could not pass through the pain to the truth.
Jeremy directed me to Henry's post in Danny's "This is it" thread. Henry's writings are always a great comfort.
When I was in AA some years ago, they taught me that "pain is necessary; suffering is a choice"; and I made the choice not to suffer. It's a choice I must occassionaly remind myself of.
So today, there is nothing I can do for my mother, and nothing I can do for my aunt. But I can get up out of bed and get back to the business of living.
I sign my emails to my sons "Love you guys".
I love you guys and gals at the Signs too.

 

[doormouse]

I'm running a program. Its the ever popular "nobody likes me everybody hates, I'm gonna go eat worms". The adult version is "I give and give; I've sacrificed everything for you and what do I get in return?" Sometimes known as The Jewish Mother, or the Irish Mother. I suspect the female vampire archetype applies.

This program can be directed at a spouse or siblings but generally creates the most excellent drama when directed at adult children who think they have developed adequate armor to withstand the assault of maternal guilt. Or worse yet, think they have a right not to be subjected to Mom's emotional abuse.

As previously presented, I spent the weekend processing unresolved grief over my brother's death 6 years ago. It was painful and exhausting, and it had to be done. This of course was precipitated by having to confront the precariousness of my mother's health. Sunday was spent forcing myself to be pleasant to my 9 year old, while getting some house work done so that the Girl could put up a few holiday decorations. We had already agreed to forgo a tree this year as I'm pretty sure the Girl's kitten would wreak havoc with it.

Last week, my middle son had promised to come by over the weekend to help the Girl decorate. (I'm recovering from foot surgery and really could have used some help getting the Christmas gear down out of the rafters. Ladder/broken foot just seemed like a bad combination.)

I also had sent out an email to sons and daughters-in-law specifically requesting assistance. The fact that no one responded should have clued me as to what to expect, but I got well into Sunday thinking someone will come help. (Of course I never called anyone. "Lord knows if it had mattered to them, they would have come.)

When it became apparent that there would be no help, I had a pity party, then put on my happy music, had 3 cups of valerian tea, and Girl and I got busy. Never actually got the house clean, but I think we're safe from the Health Department for awhile and actually made the place reasonably festive.

Now, Monday at the office, I find myself running the "nobody cares" program.

My twisted thinking goes something like this: They all expect to come to my house to be entertained for Christmas. They know I hate to entertain if the house isn't just right; they know I'm under the weather, and I did ask for help. Obviously having Christmas at my house doesn't mean as much to them as it does to me, so I should just cancel.

One of the problems with that thought is: I'm assuming that their behavior is about me.

I don't call my mother as often as I "should". I don't do a lot of things I know would please her. Not because I don't care, but because I become so overwhelmed by my own life that I can't (don't) make the time. And I expect her to understand and forgive me; but I don't expect me to understand and forgive my children when they do the same thing. If they cared ... If they appreciated all the sacrifices I've made ... woohoohoohoo.
So my question is this: How do I step out of the program and address what really matters in a sane, non-manipulative way?
Maybe more importantly: WHAT really matters?

I want a family holiday feast at my house with all of my children in attendance. Me. I want. Didn't even ask what anyone else wants.

My children have a right to want or not want and to participate to whatever degree is agreeable to them. It's not their job to clean and decorate my house. That they did not respond to the request was inconsiderate, but doesn't mean they don't care? It's possible the answer was no, but no one had the nerve to say so. But at this point I'm so far into the negative emotion of the program that I can't see that. How do I ask: are we doing this? Can you help? without subjecting them to the program?

Also, the youngest son won't even be in town till the 28th. The Girl will be at her father's on the 25th. So even if the house were perfect and the kids were moving about the kitchen like a well oiled machine helping me put on the perfect dinner, I'm not going to have them all together at one time in one place on the sacred 25th of December anyway.

As I write, the ridiculousness of the program becomes ever more apparent. The "sacred 25th of December". How silly. Jack Christian that I am, I don"t believe Jesus was born on December 25, I don't believe Jesus was "born of a virgin", I'm not sure I believe Jesus was. Period.

So I'm going to start a family brawl over people not coming to help me clean and decorate to celebrate something I don't believe in.

Sigh.

I'm just pissed because I said jump and they didn't. Or did I say "show me how much you love me" and they refused to take the bait? And it took me 2 pages to figure that out.

Double sigh.

Y'know gang, I seem to work out my own problems simply by trying to explain them to all ya'll. Sometimes I think I could accomplish the same thing with a journal, but it's too easy to lie to myself when I know no one but me will ever read it.

Oh. FYI. While putting up holiday decorations, my daughter always manages to find my brother's stocking and always asks to hang it. I always say no. This year, I said "yes, lets do"; then I dug a 20 year old portrait out of the garage and hung it over one of our seasonal displays.
He was a pretty good looking guy.

And I guess it's OK, that as the anniversary of his death approaches, I reflect, I grieve, and I attempt to learn something from his life. It's not OK to take my pain out on my children.

Reflecting on Roy's life always leads me to consider the pain we create over gender/sexuality issues.

I had a sister-in-law who committed suicide rather than confront her lesbian leanings. Her older sister suffered 17 years of a horrid marriage and nearly killed herself before admitting to herself that she is gay.

When my cousin K let it be known that he/she was undergoing a sex change, she was exiled from the family for 20 years.

My cousin D came out of the closet after years of self-destructive behavior and thoughts of suicide, and has since spent 9 years in a loving and committed relationship.

When Julie died, and the reasons came out, I remember thinking that, if we had only known we had a choice, we all would have said "fine, be gay, just be with us."

When her sister divorced her abusive husband and came out almost 10 years later, most of us had the sense to say "thank god she didn't kill herself over it" and let it go at that.

When K announced her sex change, her fundie parents were outraged. I guess most of the rest of us didn't know what to say or do, so we said and did nothing. We let her parents make the decision for the entire family. My mother always stayed in touch, was always supportive, and when years later I wanted to re-establish contact was able to provide me with an email address.

I don't know what anyone else's response to D's news was. My reaction was "And?" I'd assumed so for years and was only hoping he would figure it out before it was too late.

As the years went by and I watched family reactions to or about K and D, I always wondered "isn't it better that they are alive and happy?" D's mother and step-dad ultimately, grudgingly accepted D, though not his significant other. But K's parents declared her dead. End of conversation. Many years later, her youngest sister sought her out, and gradually the older sister accepted her. The relationship is no longer that of 2 sisters and a brother, and it's not exactly that of 3 sisters; but the love is real and hard won.

And watching all of this, I could not accept my own brother for who he was. I couldn't understand K's mom shutting K out; but I could not accept Roy.

Roy was into B&D. Big time. (For anyone who doesn't know what that is, I'm afraid you're going to have to look it up. I can't explain.) Beyond being "into it", in his last years, to him, it was who he was. I could not have a conversation with him without the subject coming up. And there were things there I just did not want to know. More to the point, I did not want to discuss them with my brother. And he was offended that I did not want to hear about something that was so important to him. He said once, that it was the same as if he were to ask me not to talk about my children.

So I shut him out.

I think Roy made the choices that he did because he was in pain. Emotional pain for which he could find neither cause nor cure.

Julie's pain ended (in this life) by driving a car off of a bridge.

Her sister's, K's and D's were healed by accepting themselves for who they are. (I'm not suggesting their lives are pain free. But the pain that could have killed them was conquered - at least for now.)

Roy's pain, I think, could only be managed by focusing his attention on a pain he could control.

But it was like being a drug addict or an alcoholic. It always takes just a little bit more to hear the click. Then a little more. Then a lot more.
Roy's final click was the firing pin hitting the bullet.

When my Grandmother died in March, K came to the funeral. Most of us had not seen or spoken to her since she was run off from Grandpa's funeral 20 years ago. (In fairness, most of us had not seen or spoken to any of us in 20 years. We are a large family with a lot of emotional damage and, as we became adults, we scattered to the 4 winds.) But anyway, we all greeted K like nothing had ever happened; like that was who she always had been. And I realized: She is who she has always been. And she is my cousin who lisped when she was 4 and idolized Roy, and I love her.

And her sisters and all the cousins and aunts and uncles embraced her.

Her parents would have nothing to do with her and would not even acknowledge her presence. Her pain was obvious; but she bucked up and was grateful for the love and acceptance she did received.

And I kept looking at her mother and thinking
"Roy's dead and K isn't
She's the same sweet soul we always loved; she just looks different.
We have time to heal and care and love.
And when we're dead it is too late."

But Aunt M (K's mother) has to deal with her pain in her own way.

And I CAN understand shutting someone out the way she shuts out K. Because that's what I did to Roy.
I don't know if it was right or wrong. But I wish I could have found another way.

So sometimes I take a day or two to think about these things and hope that, if I have to repeat the lesson, I do better next time.

And now I'm done being mad at my kids for not being mind readers or puppets. And it's time to go home and finish getting ready for Mid-Winter's Feast. (It's a good thing the office is so quiet around the holidays. Gives me time to get some real work done!)

Peace out Dudes!

Um. When I submitted this all apostrophes, quotes and dashes were replaced by special characters. I corrected them manually, but I'm concerned they will come back when I click submit again. Help!

 

[Renaissance]

while getting some house work done so that the Girl

I'm pretty sure the Girl's kitten

to help the Girl decorate

Why to you refer to your daughter as 'the Girl'? From what you've written it seems as though your daughter is the only girl among your children, but a reference to her as though this was her name seems like you're detached from her being you daughter as well as a human being. Do you call her 'Girl' in person?

 

[doormouse]

Oh dear. Is that really what it sounds like? wow.

1. I don't refer to my children, friends, or family here by name out of respect for their privacy and to protect my identity. OK I did use brother's name; but as he is deceased I don't think he will mind too much.
2. "The Girl" is an honorific. She is THE Girl. She's the orange in my juice, the sun in my shine. And please believe me - she KNOWS it.

I also refer to her friends as such. "Are you going to call your girl." It's a colloquialism that has crept into common usage around here; but that's really not the same thing is it?

Thank you for pointing out that it could sound like I don't see her as a human. You've put me in mind of a book called A Boy Called It. Ick. No I don't call her "Girl" directly; but I do refer to her as the Girl/that Girl in her presence. I will discuss this with her and see how she feels about it.

 

[anart]

"The Girl" is an honorific. She is THE Girl. She's the orange in my juice, the sun in my shine. And please believe me - she KNOWS it.

Thanks for clearing that up - I read it pretty much the same way Shane did, so very good to know. ;)

 

[doormouse]

I talked to my daughter about how she felt about being called "The Girl". Needless to say it was an interesting conversation.

Initially, she said that it made her feel like I don't know her.

A few minutes later she came back and said sometimes she didn't mind. For example: if I was talking about something she had done wrong, she didn't like it; but if I said something like "I need to feed The Girl", that was OK. When she put it like that, it sounded to me like "I need to feed the dog"! That's just wrong!

I suspect that she was trying to back out of having said she doesn't like something I do. I remember at that age being incapable of telling my mother that there was anything about her or her behavior that I did not adore. That sometimes her words hurt. That sometimes it would be nice if she would let other people see ME. Actually I still can't tell her. She doesn't want to know and it's not my job to hold her mirror.

OK this really hurts. Not so much reflecting on my relationship with my mother; but realizing that the worst thing she did to me - not seeing me - I'm doing to my daughter. Understand that my mother is 73, I'm 48, my daughter is 9. My relationship with my mother is on an entirely different plane than my relationship with my daughter. She's 9. And I make her feel like I don't know her.

Thank you Shane for bringing this to my attention.