It has been a long time, my friends. And this one is sort of under a certain kind of radar, if you get my drift. BUT. There are things that need discussing, and this seems a good forum in which to do so. And if it is a proverbial message in a bottle, it is nevertheless a reaching out, which is important.
I have been thinking today about frustration. And what purpose it might serve. This morning I was listening to a comedy podcast and they were making silliness of the song John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, and I, being the mother of a toddler who LOVES songs like John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, could sympathize with the jokes about how annoying that song is. Particularly when repeated, at high-volume. That is an experience one might describe as frustrating.
(It turns out, of course, that the song actually has an interesting history, at least according to the comics, that revolves around immigration in the early twentieth century and how no one could tell anyone's name apart from any other recent immigrant from the same country. Which makes intuitive sense and I like as an explanation regardless of it's veracity.)
Then there is also the frustration of unfulfilled needs, which is the one I am more concerned with today. Because, my friends, I am in possession of some information the potential response to which makes me really... mmmm, nervous? Apprehensive? Uncomfortable? Angsty?
I do not want to tell! And yet. It is FRUSTRATING to not be able to. It is definitely a deep sense of dissatisfaction in not being honest. Not feeling able to be authentically myself. And why, you may ask, why do I feel unable to be myself, to tell, to be clear? Because I do not want to hear anything in response except EXACTLY what I want to hear. I do not want to listen to anyone else's views on the subject, I do not want to corrupted by other narratives of my experience, AND I want only to hear how fabulous I am.
(Interestingly enough I am aware that the best way to hear about how fabulous you are is to be exactly yourself and then pay no attention to the people who do not tell you you are fabulous.... but somehow this is easier said than done. And how does one manage being part of a family in that instance?)
I am thinking about it. Why is it so scary to open up? Why does that feel so challenging? I have been reading a lot on the subject in recent months, but so far I do not feel clear on WHY. I have a lot of tools to OVERCOME, and to PROCESS, and to DOCUMENT the discomfort, but WHY there is that discomfort I do not yet know. What do you think? And why should it feel so truly frustrating to not share?
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