As a teenager, it was so easy to fall into the role of martyr. Part was a product of youth. You ARE the whole world between the ages of twelve and twenty-two (hell, maybe longer). Part was my disinclination to talk about what troubled me. Ironically, when I found myself with a trusted listener it was much like a having a captivated audience. I misinterpreted a sympathetic ear as friendship built on the foundation of drama, and I would be disinclined to let go of my pain. I was a passive aggressive attention whore. It’s difficult to admit, even ten years later.
Today, I’ve no interest in being a martyr. I’ve managed to climb down from the cross and recycle the wood for better use. When I consider sacrificing another tree for such selfish reasons, I try stepping outside myself to gain a better perspective, before trotting to the garage to fetch the axe.
It’s difficult coping with painful situations when there’s no one to shoulder the accountability. Hurt is more satisfying when there is another person to blame. By pointing to a culprit, you have the RIGHT to proclaim yourself the victim, making sadness easier to accept.
When unfortunate things happen for no accountable reason, some question spiritual beliefs. Surely they are being punished for wronging the gods or sinning against their fellow man. Sometimes life just happens, but we aren’t willing to accept it.
When I got the phone call Monday, it took longer to get my wits about me than I would have liked. Based on past incidents, I programed myself to believe I would only be picking up the pieces from my in-laws after 10 PM. I know, that’s stupid, but so far, it’s the way the year has played out. At three PM I wasn’t emotionally prepared to be the person they needed me to be.
Fortunately, I wasn’t able to walk out the door at that EXACT minute as the ALF (assisted living facility) staff wanted. I took the time to throw my personal effects into a backpack, and faced another delay re-installing the top on my jeep, allowing me plenty of time to mumble obscenities under my breath in private. When I reached the hospital the nearest parking spot was conveniently located in bumfuck egypt. This provided an excellent opportunity to walk off nervous energy and remind myself, “This is not personal. This is situational. They need you with a clear head, not a bad attitude. This is not about you. Think about the big picture. This is the way things are going to be for years to come, you better get used to it now.”
I recognize this is not my pain. My hip is not broken, and my mind is in tact. I am not engaged in the push pull battle of adult child versus aging parent (yet). I am a member of the audience, seated rather uncomfortably in the coliseum, watching the horrors of the Roman circus unfold before my eyes. I offer my support, but it would be deceptive to confiscate their hurt and market it as my own.
I sympathize, but I refuse to mirror the emotional responses of the others. It makes me extremely uncomfortable when people search my eyes for specific emotional responses. They are disappointed by my pragmatism. There are enough martyrs here, and deserving ones (no, I’m not being sarcastic). I’ve spent an obscene amount of time re-hashing this online and regret this won’t be the last post on the matter. I want to make it clear, my role is far easier than my husband’s, his brothers’, and his parents. I regret their pain and offer my support, but imitating their torment won’t take it away.
June 13th, 2007 at 2:25 pm
Yes, for you to act more grieving than you are just to meet the expectations of others, would feel quite false.
The most helpful and honest thing you can do is to keep your head while all the others are losing theirs.
June 13th, 2007 at 2:43 pm
“They are disappointed by my pragmatism.”
Geez, I’d think they would appreciate it. When my husband was 17, his father died from a heart attack. His mother had a nervous breakdown. Witness to this, he evolved into a rock. It’s comforting to me, knowing he’ll keep his head no matter what the situation.
I wish you’d get some more appreciation.
June 13th, 2007 at 3:56 pm
I admire you for your pragmatism and honesty. I think I try to please people too much and am always at a loss for what to say or how to react in situations such as these. But that is the wrong tack really, because if I’m trying to figure out how to react then it would be a forced emotion. Silly me, tricks are for kids. I wish I could stop feeling so pressured to do what other’s think is right and be myself.
June 13th, 2007 at 6:10 pm
meno, the unfortunate side effect of keeping your head, is having an unobstructed view of what lies on the road ahead. It’s like being the only sober person surrounded by a roomful of drunks. I shouldn’t be full of myself… I am making the assumption the others don’t know what lies ahead, because no one is making preparations. They behave as if there is plenty of time…whoops there’s that denial again.
De, losing a parent at a young age shapes you. He was hit with the double whammy, having to be strong for his mom and the loss of his father. I’m glad he’s on your team.
Everyone likes to feel their efforts matter, but they don’t take action for the appreciation. I take action because I know it’s what I should do. My husband and his brothers have shown appreciation, for the time I have given up. They are just mystified I don’t come from a family that copes the same as theirs.
Maggie, pleasing people is a good way to avoid confrontation, and sometimes confrontation isn’t worth the effort. I lack the vocabulary to offer proper comfort in these situations too, so I take someone’s hand or touch their shoulder and make eye contact. It’s a showing sympathy that doesn’t require me to stumble over words.
With extended family there is an underlying pressure to fit in and be one of them. Ironic, because though we are welcomed in we are obviously from different families with different traditions, and we will never really resemble them.
June 15th, 2007 at 9:37 am
Oh, I know you weren’t looking for applause. I need a little acknowledgement once in a while to recharge my batteries. That’s what I was thinking of for you.
June 16th, 2007 at 4:57 pm
De, I am recharging my batteries as I type, sometimes a peaceful house and quiet walk go a long way.
June 20th, 2007 at 5:55 pm
Someone has to be the calm and pragmatic one, and you’re right: it’s not *your* drama, so that makes your job easier.
Not that it sounds that easy - because I don’t think it does, I think it sounds tough.
June 22nd, 2007 at 10:08 am
sari, it isn’t easy to watch or ignore. I’m trying to build up a little stamina so I can pace myself better. This will be the state of affairs for years to come.