The Blind Spot

It’s a strange thing to sit staring at an empty screen wondering what might come out of your head that could be useful, entertaining, comforting or thought-provoking to anyone else. And even stranger when you realize the best thing you can do is just write, and let people feel however they’re going to feel. If we were sitting across a table from one another, it would be different. I’d be very focused on how you seemed because I wouldn’t know for sure how you felt unless you told me. But I’d be watching for all those tells underneath the words - whether you appeared to be on edge or relaxed, whether you were leaning forward or leaning back, if your leg was bouncing, if it looked like you had something on your mind or just wanted to linger, catch up, talk about everything or nothing. I’d be wondering if you were okay, or if you were trying to look like you were okay. Depending on our relationship, I’d definitely ask. I’d lean forward, put my hand on yours, or touch your arm if it seemed like you needed something or someone to tether you. Because life is full of everything and we’re all doing the best we can.

I’ve had to work on not trying to make everything okay for everyone all the time, though. Everything isn’t going to be okay for any of us all the time. Sometimes the struggle is what we need to do better as we go. I’ve had so many moments in my life when I didn’t tell someone they’d hurt my feelings or let me down. I imagined they’d feel as distraught as I would if I blew it. It seemed easier to give them the benefit of the doubt, move through my own feelings, and forgive them without having to survive an uncomfortable conversation. But a whole bunch of things are wrong with that approach. When you don’t share your confusion, pain, disappointment or anger, you rob people of the chance to be close to you, to understand your perspective, or to do it differently next time. Just like times I’ve screwed up and someone has offered me the chance to make it right. If you’re really close to someone, your relationship will be able to sustain a little struggle. Usually that’s the stuff that makes us closer.

Also, not everyone is going to beat themselves up for making mistakes. Some of that has to do with how mistakes were treated in your family of origin. If your primary caregivers were patient people who didn’t freak out over things like a spilled bowl of cereal, you might have a healthy relationship with mistakes and your own humanness. But if you grew up in a house where you paid a hefty price for that kind of thing, you might have learned that being perfect was your best defense, and admitting you’d messed up was a bad idea. That’s a tough way to live.

Photo by Daniela Díaz on Unsplash

Last night I sent out an email about a fundraiser I’m doing in a few weeks. I knew some people wouldn’t like it, or they might even find it angering, because we live in times where expressing an opinion is often received as an attack. I was anxious because it’s never my desire to upset anyone, and because my old wiring is still in there, on high alert about what might happen if I upset someone. I can’t let that fear rule me, though. I lived like that for too long, and I’m a grown ass woman now. I have to speak from my heart and live from my heart - and also, I have a daughter. I have a son, too, but his rights aren’t on the line. So I spent hours on this thing, really laying out why I feel the way I do. And I got attacked anyway, which is fine. I expected it. I laid down a civics lesson and a history lesson and I was a little sassy, too. It is what it is, but there was one person who was furious. Her email was very intense. I got a ton of positive feedback and enthusiasm, and a few people who lashed out. I know we aren’t all going to agree.

We aren't sitting across a table from one another, either, so you can’t see my face or hear the tone in my voice. I have been at this rodeo long enough to understand you can never control how a person is going to receive anything - not a literal gift you give them, not an essay you write or a thing you say or do. Sometimes you’ll be misunderstood or worse, and sometimes you’ll be the person who misses the memo. Have you ever been in an interaction with someone and you realize something has gone wrong but you don’t know what? You can see they’re upset, but you missed something. Maybe they misheard you or misunderstood you, or maybe you said a thing that wouldn’t trouble you at all if someone said it to you, but to them, it’s triggering.

I hate hurting people. It’s the one thing in life I try to avoid at all costs, but no matter how hard you try, it’s going to happen once in a while. I’m pretty sure I hurt someone I really care about a few months ago because I missed a clue that was undoubtedly obvious to them, but went right over my head - until three days later when it suddenly hit me. It’s the kind of thing you have to clear up in person, or at least I do. None of us gets everything right all the time.

My son is taking his driver’s test on September 5th. We’ve been practicing for a couple of years. I started taking him to empty parking lots during the pandemic because he began high school in his bedroom over zoom, and I wanted him to have something to be excited about. Something that felt special, and maybe a little forbidden during a time when we couldn’t do the most basic things. Meet a friend for coffee. Give someone “outside the pod” a hug. Anyway he’s taller than I am by a lot. He’s 6’1” some crazy way. Side note: it is really odd to grow a person inside your body and spend ten years making sure they stay alive, and then watch them get bigger and bigger and bigger until they’re towering over you and driving your car. And about to leave for college. Sob.

When I get in my car to drive somewhere after he’s driven, I have to adjust the seat forward and adjust all the mirrors because the blind spot is in a different place for him along with everything else - he sees the world from a different perspective than I do, quite literally. But the truth is, that’s everyone. We’d probably do ourselves a favor if we remembered that more.

Photo by Mark Neal on Unsplash

I miss my mom a lot lately, not that I ever have a day when I don’t miss her, but some days it’s a constant ache in my heart I’ve grown used to, and others it’s the kind of thing that blindsides me and suddenly that ache in my heart is in my throat and tears are spilling all over the place. She was so hard to deal with in so many ways but I miss her in the way you’d miss air if it was suddenly gone. Even after three years there are moments it feels impossible she isn’t here. I can’t call her and hear her voice. I can’t get on a plane and visit. It’s the kind of thing that makes me feel untethered and disoriented. And also, it just really fucking hurts.

Don’t know where we were or why. But when she let me, I loved her like this.

I hate that people attack each other so easily these days. I got a haircut on Sunday, just a trim, and my hair person - hairdresser makes me think of a woman named Marge with pointy glasses in a beauty parlor with a cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth…in case you wanted to know - my hair person who is also my wonderful friend Lucie, said she just assumes no one is completely okay. I think that’s a safe assumption, and even if it isn’t always true, we’re better to err on that side of the equation than the other. Maybe you forgot to adjust your mirrors, maybe I forgot to adjust mine. But maybe that fiery email you just shot off hit me at the exact moment I was really missing my mom. Maybe I’m not the enemy, maybe I just see the world from a different perspective. You just never know.

If you’d like to meet me in real time to talk about getting things wrong sometimes, missing clues, different perspectives and all of our blind spots - I’ll be here 8/23/24 at 11:15am PST, or you can wait for the Come As You Are podcast version. As ever, thank you so much for being here, and for spending some time with me.