Dear Readers | Kickback
by Elouise
I know ‘kickback’ isn’t exactly the right word. But it captures how I’ve been feeling today after posting For the Child’s Sake. I’ve been having stomach punches.
Not literally, but psychically. In my mind and my emotions. Second guessing. Fearful that I’ve said too much. That the wrong people will take it the wrong way.
None of this, mind you, is rational. It’s my hyper-sensitive reaction to speaking truth that’s deeply personal to me.
I’ve had this reaction before. So many times I can’t even count them. In the classroom, in small groups, in one-on-one conversations, and when I make my writing public. Especially if it’s about a sensitive topic. Which, in my world, could be anything at all—especially if it’s about me or people I know.
I’m hyper-vigilant. This means, given the content of my Divide and Conquer post, it takes a massive effort to speak truth forthrightly. And then close my mouth.
I’d much rather word-smith every statement with explanations that eventually deprive what I’ve said of its power to convey truth.
So I spent most of this afternoon ruminating about the post. Running scenarios in my mind about what might happen if the ‘wrong’ people read it, or if I’m ‘wrong’ in my account of what happened.
Yet it isn’t about accuracy or logic or sane precautions. It’s about the habits of my mind that conjure up worst-case scenarios, realistic and unrealistic. They didn’t just show up one day on their own. They’ve been with me since I was a child, and may have helped me survive back then.
Now, however, these habits often work against me. I don’t want people to take offence at what I write. Yet in the end, it may not be clear exactly what I’m trying to communicate.
It’s difficult to be clear, and then let my words sit there. Not softened or ratcheted down. Not edited for niceness to avoid offending people who may take me to task or simply disagree with me and write me off.
So that’s the stew I’ve been working on all afternoon. I think it’s a sign that what I wrote in that post matters deeply to me. Especially because I’ve been there, too. A child in need of an adult ally.
Here’s the bottom line for now. I know I’m a highly sensitive person. I won’t always have another highly sensitive person around to help me through my doubts and fears. This suggests I must be my own adult ally. The sensitive child in me (yes, she’s still there!) needs this ally. So does the sensitive adult woman who’s typing these words right now.
Thanks for listening.
Elouise
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 June 2015
Elouise, I can relate to what you say because I suffer the same ‘malady’. However, what you wrote about—the safety and well being of a child was a much needed reminder for me. You may not know how your kindness will impact the growth of this child. I always hesitate to step in even when I know I could offer the safety a child needs during a time of crisis.
I don’t believe I ever had a safe place to verbalize my insecurities without being ridiculed, and I have been fighting against worry about what I have said may have been the wrong thing since childhood.
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April, I’m right there with you! I don’t think I would have taken the risk if it hadn’t, in a way, shown up right in front of us. I’m so glad D was with me. It took the two of us, using our best (and somewhat different!) approaches. As for ridicule, it can shut me down in a heartbeat. Which may have an advantage, since the words I would like to hurl back probably wouldn’t add one bit to my sense of well-being. To say nothing of my safety.
Many thanks for your comment.
Elouise
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Elouise, Just drop the second guessing of yourself and of what others may think etc. There is no question in my mind that you and D offered a “cup of cold water in Jesus’ name.” I was left speechless after reading your posting yesterday – wondering if when I’m in this strange place and would need help getting up, walking, breathing, etc. if there will be a good Samaritan that will have mercy on me.
Shabot Shalom,
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Lorraine,
Thanks so much for reading and commenting. I often wonder (about myself) what you wonder about yourself. We don’t have the same circumstances, yet we live in an unpredictable world. I think our questions about ourselves are important, especially as we age and become less able to help ourselves in emergencies. Which is, of course, the appeal of all the medical alert devices now on the market. And then there are the children we see every day….so vulnerable in their own ways.
Elouise
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I hear you, Elouise. I am the same way when I feel like I am putting myself “out there.” Worrying, second-guessing, endlessly tinkering. I get it. ❤
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🙂 Why am I not surprised? Thanks for your comment. Aren’t internal worlds stranger than strange sometimes? They have a logic, yet the strangeness never fades.
Elouise
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Courage is vulnerability. It’s being afraid and brave at exactly the same moment. And, honestly, it’s what keeps us (me) small and quiet and too careful too often. It’s the opposite of how I want to live – with my whole heart. Thank you for being courageous, Elouise! ~Natalie
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Natalie, Thanks so much for this perceptive comment. I’m with you, wanting to live “with my whole heart.” I think courage comes when we put ourselves out there in some way. I want it to be a feeling of strength and willingness to take risks–before they arise. But it seems it doesn’t work that way.
Elouise
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Elouise, I read your post yesterday about helping a child in a difficult situation. I was glad you took a stand. You did what was right.
Today I see you are also concerned about the posting – who might read it, and what they might think. You need not be concerned about saying you did what you thought was right. I’ve often been concerned about something I said or did when what I said or did was something stupid (way too many times). But that is different. Good for you for helping the child, and good for you for telling the world you had enough spunk to do what was needed.
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Thanks, Waldo, for your kind words. I appreciate your personal comment and your encouragement. I tend to need all the spunk I can get to just keep going–especially when I’m dealing with what some might call overthinking.
Elouise
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