mud, motherhood and meaning

Why is it so much easier to be mad than sad?

Seriously? I have spent a lot of time considering this exact question for months…I mean, ultimately, I know why.

No one wants to be vulnerable and risk getting hurt. Gross.
Or, we have spent years and years getting hurt time and time again and are just over it. The pattern repeated enough times that we expect the same outcome even in a new situation.

I can see the cycle. I can explain the cycle. I am still living the cycle! (Insert annoyed scream here.). WHY?!

I literally explained this to my nine year old as I was cleaning up the kitchen. She came to me and asked, “Are you annoyed?”
“Yes, yes I am. I am annoyed about people not eating what I prepare and being disrespectful at meal times.”
“But, I ate my food. Are you annoyed at me?”
“No, you are a good eater. You do well with that. However, your behavior earlier was awful and disrespectful so that wasn’t great. Can you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Just like you do not like to be sad or upset, I don’t either. I am tired of having my feelings hurt and no one caring. So, I am choosing to be mad.”

Is it a great example? No. Probably not my best parenting, but being emotional is exhausting. At least, it is exhausting for most of us over here. I don’t know about you.

The real question I have is….where in life did I learn that it is easier to be pissed off than soft and kind?
Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! I grew up there. My house was hard…
We were tough. We didn’t show emotion. We didn’t have feelings to get hurt, nor would anyone be capable of hurting them if we had feelings.

Did you grow up in that home, too? “Why are you crying? I’ll give you something to cry for.” There was no comfort, no hugs, no words of affirmation….
We just survived the anger, basically.

My parents were fighters. Not just the occasional spat or disagreement. No, sir. Full-blown fights….objects buzzing by your head, statues of little children dressed as bunnies busted and heads staring aimlessly off into space, the dirtiest words. you can think of being spewed across rooms, finger pointing and jabbing…even hitting.
Eventually, someone may leave. Tires squealing out of the drive. Maybe whoever left would be back…maybe not. If it was Dad, he was for sure getting drunk and driving through the yard later. (Yes, I say that lightheartedly because that became a highlight as I became a teen.)

Back to the point….we lived in an unstable environment. We had no idea which version of “home” we would be getting most of the time. Summer, summer was the exception. It was always bad.

We learned to shrink ourselves We learned to exist with the least amount of attention needed. I say we, but really, maybe it was just me that learned that. My siblings were definitely “noticed” more than I was. Not necessarily in good ways, either.

I became the kid that was just good at school without help or without a fuss. I simply did my work. I listened. I did my chores. I didn’t get in trouble at school. I didn’t cause problems, for the most part. I just existed. And, when they were fighting, I was shaking in my room with the dog. He was shaking, too. We would sit and wait for the noise to stop. We would shake together in hopes of not being noticed. We definitely did not want to be noticed.

I guess maybe that mentality stuck with me. I have always tried to “keep the peace” and do the least to cause a stir. (Ok, I can hold my own when needed, though. Those stories will come. I don’t go looking for fights, is the point.) I try to do my best, or give what I can, and do what is expected of me without being noticed.

Without being noticed….man, that hits different right now. Maybe that is part of the problem. I spent so long trying to fly under the radar and now I WANT my family to notice me. I tell my husband and my kids, “No one actually sees or hears me!” I feel like I could talk and talk and talk and still not be heard. I cook meals trying to make something that seven other people will not complain about, only to hear someone’s gripes. Like, HELLO!? Do you see me? I tried. I took everyone else into consideration (more than myself) and someone complained. No, thank you.

The reality is…I spent my childhood being unnoticed and my kids are very much noticed. This is a good thing, overall. I see them. I hear them. I consider them. They can be vulnerable. They are allowed to be vulnerable. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we are still working on this. That nine year old from earlier….whew! She is tough. She is a real work-in-progress, but she is trying. She was able to communicate to me last week that she was mad to avoid her sadness. Baby steps!!

Vulnerability sucks. I have told my husband this.
Being open to getting hurt is hard. We have to be open to getting hurt, though, in order to truly experience life. If we are not open, we will miss the beautiful and rewarding moments, too. If we are shut down and reclusive, we miss everything.

Vulnerability still sucks and is so hard. No one wants to get hurt. No one wants to repeat the same cycles and hope for a better outcome. But, here we are.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.