Introspection in a quiet house ... on a warm, summer night

The ­­­­­­­house is very quiet since we got on a plane and flew over 2,500 miles to New York with our daughter two weeks ago to drop her off for a summer college program.  Looking back, it was an integral part to feeling comfortable with leaving her there for six weeks—we were able to walk around town and get an idea of the vibe and the people, and we were able to tour many parts of the University and interact with several of the professors and professional resources available to the students.

Day three, after we’d walked to a local science center and to the downtown commons, I felt good about leaving her—really good, actually.  Thinking about it now doesn’t prevent a little bit of self doubt to creep in.  Not the self-doubt of leaving her there to have her first adult experience on her own, but the kind of self-doubt of letting her fly away from the nest at day ten instead of day fourteen, and not really feeling any kind of anxiety about it.  

I was sad when we told her goodbye, hugging … tears mingled with sweat from a hot day walking around campus.  I was sad when we went back to the hotel and she wasn’t there, the quiet settling in.  I was sad in the morning when I woke up to get ready to get on the plane to go back home.  Basically, I was sad the entire day, especially so when we arrived home to a quiet, empty house with her absence made more prominent by her cat, Sully, laying in her empty bed and wondering when she’ll be home again to snuggle with him.

Missing her life force floating around the house, the noise bouncing off the walls … reminds me of a time in my life back in elementary school when the melancholy and loneliness would set in like a thick fog after spending the weekend having a friend’s spirit share my space for a day or two.  I’m not sure why, but come Sunday evening the grief of their absence was crushing and I cried myself to sleep.  But, it got easier as I grew up and so is the case today.  

A friend recently asked how and what we were doing in my daughter’s absence.  Not a lot has really changed, to be honest.  We do the same things minus one person, although I do find myself wishing she was here to share the same memories.  “You’re empty-nesting,” my friend pointed out.  Bryan agrees with this assessment, but I’m not sure yet.  I vacillate and swing between the feeling of it just being the two of us and feeling like we’ve broken the plate and she’s graduated and away at college to the thought that she’s really only away on a trip and will be back in a month.  I guess it’s kind of an in-between feeling, if I’m really honest.  At the very least, it does give me a taste of what it will be like when the time comes for her to go off to college.

 So, I sit here and reflect under a full-moon … the quiet that has settled on our house as of late will soon be broken once again at another moon’s turn. 

In the words of The Clash, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

Picture credit: Microsoft

I’m beginning to see why people are leaving this country or have begun looking into taking the leap. 

Once, I left one job to go to another where I would be paid more.  It was a promising position in an industry I was excited to learn more about.  I was even excited to work for my new manager, and all of the people were friendly and welcoming.

I didn’t last more than four months.  I ended up hating almost every minute of my role.  I worked long hours, my manager was a nightmare to work for, the work was too repetitive for my liking, and I didn’t feel like I was really learning anything new after the first month.  My attitude was in the toilet and it got so that I was yelling at my family all the time.  It was no way to be so I decided to leave it all behind, and after walking out the door, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had wiped that negativity out of my life.

I have a point in telling this story, I promise.  First, some background of what’s’ been floating around my head as of late.

For the past month or two, I have struggled to put into words how I’m feeling about the world as we know it right now.  I think about it almost every waking minute of the day and I have to say, it’s beginning to take a toll.  I’m trying to remain positive, but it seems every day I read several pieces of news (yes, they are from reputable sources) that stir up the anger, disappointment, sadness, embarrassment, and dread that refuses to lay dormant inside.

I’m disheartened that our planet and its resources are at risk of depleting quicker because of climate-change deniers and fossil fuel supporters that don’t understand the risk to the earth or people that depend on clean water and land to live.  I’m sad and scared for minorities and the LGBTQ community as programs, laws, and services that support and help keep them safe are at risk.  I fear our relationships with other countries will move from “strained” to “hanging in the balance” and we won’t have allies should we come under attack.  I distress over the future of education and health of our children.  See where I’m going with this?  Do I really need to go on?  There’s a laundry list, I assure you.

Ultimately, here’s where I’m at.  I don’t understand why programs and agencies that have brought mainly positive results have come under fire and have either been gutted or are at risk of being put on the chopping block.  I’d like to think all that has happened thus far isn’t just to line the pockets of the rich, or being done out of spite towards another group although it certainly feels that way at times.  Whatever the reason, all of it scares the hell out of me and the stress is mounting to the point that somedays I just want to leave just as I did with that job that made me miserable.

So, back to my original thought … I get why escaping to another country is an attractive move for many.  I have seriously considered it the last few weeks to my husband’s chagrin.  He doesn’t believe in turning his back to his country.  On face-value I can agree with that sentiment, but in practice it’s getting harder to resist the temptation to go somewhere else where crazy isn’t so prevalent and truth and ethical behavior are not endangered species.

What did I just say?

Listen to understand, not to respond.  THIS IS GOLD.  I’ve seen this sentiment several times over the past year.  Sometimes the words are different, but the meaning is the same.  I liked it so much that I adapted it into my personal Tao.  It’s even written on a little, pink heart post-it note stuck to the wall of my office.  

I remember hearing the definition of introvert versus extrovert for the first time in my high school Psychology class.  It was the first time I really had an awakening of who I was as a person and why I was labeled as “shy” or the type of person that crept around.  The definition – a person who absorbs everything like a sponge and goes away to think about what they’ve heard to later purge what didn’t make sense or what wasn’t needed – really resonated with me.  I certainly wasn’t an extrovert – someone who will stop at the first thing they don’t agree with and have an all-out discussion right then and there – definitely wasn’t who I was in my heart of hearts.

Over the years, I was given the feedback that I was a great listener.  I was also given the feedback that I needed to speak up more and share what I had bouncing around in my head (those weren’t the words used, but you get the idea).  In any event, I had to adjust how I interacted with the world since my introversion naturally had me observing and listening or “gathering intel” so I could analyze it later.  Eventually, I taught myself to speak up right when I had a thought, which was totally unnatural and uncomfortable.  I’d sweat, my heartbeat would increase, my skin would flush – it was almost like having stage fright because it was so unnatural to me.

Recently, I started to think about introverts and extroverts, how we change ourselves to fit what we need to be at work, school, socially, you get the idea …  and then I began connecting it to the idea of listening to understand what people are saying instead of listening to respond.  My time in college and all through my first career had taught me to stop listening to understand and instead, listen to respond.  The result?  Instead of really listening, I would only be half-engaged and would instead put myself into the mode I would normally go into in the future – analyzing what I needed to respond with in real-time versus later when I’d had a chance to go over it in my head.  Oftentimes, I couldn’t articulate myself very well or I didn’t say what I should have and later thought of, which was many times central to the discussion and I would share it quickly in an email, a voicemail, or even in passing.  I imagine talking to me probably felt a bit disjointed.

I bring this up because it seems like most people out there today are not listening to understand each other, me included.  It’s become this great race to tell people what you think and what you think they should think, too.  That’s a lot of goddamn thinking, but it’s not real thinking if you’re not actually listening and understanding, is it?  So we’re stuck in this world of eye-rolling, throwing our hands up in the air, and shouting obscenities at each other because we can’t do a very basic skill of communication.  Listen.  

If you’re an extrovert, I won’t lie. This will probably be tough to do.  If you’re an introvert that has been taught to listen to respond versus listen to understand, it will also be an uphill battle.  Here’s a start for the next time you speak with someone (and I don’t recommend a political discussion as a means to get your feet wet in this new way of doing):  actually listen, let there be silence after what is said is said.  Some people are deathly afraid of silence, but don’t be—it’s okay to not fill the void with noise (let’s be honest—a lot of time if you’re filling, it is just that.  Noise).  The point is, you want to let what you heard sink in.  I mean really sink in.  Ask questions if you don’t understand or need more information.  

The last part of wisdom I’d like to impart is that you don’t have to respond to what the other person is saying right away.  It’s your right to mull it over and in this day in age, we all probably should take a cue from our introvert friends here.  If you choose to not respond; however, it’s customary to tell the person you’d like to ruminate over what they’ve shared versus just walking away.  That would send the wrong message, not to mention leave the vulnerable person standing there in shock after they just bared their soul to you because you asked.  

Ok, that last part might be a bit dramatic, but you see where I’m going with this.  We don’t listen to each other and it’s become ever important to start renewing that skill so we can all be better human beings and band together to succeed in whatever we do.