I don't often write about my friends and family on this site, except in passing. I think it's important to respect people's privacy, and in the case of something put out for public consumption, you just never know who is reading or who may read down the line. Therefore when I have problems in my relationships, I tend not to mention them in any great detail or I just say something vague, like what a jerk I've been.
This tendency has also started appearing in my life itself. Call it emotional euphemism.
I've never had great communication with any of my extended family. This is not to say I don't have good relationships with them - we get along great in person, at family gatherings and the like - it's just that that is the extent of my involvement with them. Somehow it's come to pass that I'm not much of a card or letter-writer, and I almost never call anyone on the phone. I ask my parents about their respective families all the time, and they keep me in the loop, so I know when to be happy, when to worry, and when to pray. I realize, though, that however much I may express concern or care about my family to my parents, none of that gets through to the individuals themselves... which is why I often feel like I barely know my own family.
Moving in with Eric gave me the opportunity to observe other family dynamics. I wasn't surprised that his mother calls frequently because my mother and I talk or email almost daily (and I know that my father hears all about me through this). What absolutely floored me, though, was when Eric was mumbling to himself one day and startled, saying, "Oh shoot, I have to call my grandmother!" I asked why, thinking it must be her birthday or that she'd sent him a gift he needed to thank her for, and he looked at me perplexed, then said "I uhh, haven't talked to her in nearly two weeks. She's probably wondering what's up."
He calls his grandmother regularly, just to say hello and stay in touch. He calls and emails his aunts and uncles and cousins, and they all stay in touch with him too. I started wondering if they were some bizarrely connected family, but when I mentioned this to friends, they said no, their families do the same.
I have been feeling more and more like a jerk because I don't know how to get back in touch with my family. When I was a child, my mother would make us call our grandparents with good news. We dutifully wrote thank you cards, and until I became a painfully self-conscious pre-teen, I used to write long and probably quite boring letters. I spoke to my father's family whenever they called the house (and I still do, when I'm there), but I never picked up the phone to call them myself.
Now that I've been living on my own for close to four years, I know that no one has my phone number or addresses. I have all of theirs in a spreadsheet, in part because I sometimes write my mother's Christmas cards, but also because I think one day I'll use them. I imagine that at some point in my life, I'll call my aunts or become friends with my cousins and have the kinds of relationships I imagine I could with them.
I realize lately, that's not going to happen if I don't start working toward it.
This summer I made a tiny, token effort at being a human being. I sent a postcard and gifts from Venice to my aunt and grandmother in Hawaii. I kind of meant for them to be birthday presents (since both of their birthdays were while I was away), but it took me so long to mail them that I think they just came off as random. I'm currently working on homemade Christmas gifts for them too, because I want to start sending my own birthday and Christmas gifts instead of my mother signing my name on their card. With respect to these two, I don't think it will be that hard to be in better touch, so long as I get over my phone phobia and just ... call them.
As for the rest of my family, it's hard. Unless I have a very specific topic I absolutely must discuss, I kind of can't use the phone. Even when I have a reason to call, I get all panicky and weird about it, such that my "Happy Birthday" calls (every few years) are breathless and rushed. Given that I have such a hard time with upbeat, friendly calls, you can probably imagine I am incapable of solemn, well-wishing calls in bad situations.
For whatever reason, I can talk to my friends or relative strangers about intensely personal, dire, or horrible things, and I never have a problem, but I can't talk to my own family about their health or personal lives.
Where I'm going with all of this is that I hurt someone recently, and I feel awful about it.
A male family member was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a kidney removed. I kept in touch with my mother and stayed up to the minute on his condition. I worried, and I prayed, and I thought about him all the time.
I saw him in person just after it was confirmed that it was cancer, and I just didn't know what to say. Everything I thought was along the lines of "Yes, these cookies are delicious. So uhh, it sucks you have cancer?" I had no idea what to say to begin the conversation, nor how to turn our talk to give him an opportunity to bring it up. Instead I said nothing, bumbled through intense awkwardness, and left with vague "we should talk more"s.
In the month that's passed since then, he has had the kidney removed, gone through an exhausting recovery, and come out okay (thank God). My mom told me everything that he told her, every anecdote, every degree of his temperature when he had a fever, every time he saw his doctors and what they said. But in all of this, I didn't ever call him or shoot him an email or well, do or say anything. I didn't know if he would be uncomfortable to talk about his health, and after my mother told me he passed out from exhaustion after feeding his cats, I was terrified that I would call when he was napping and disturb him. I started half a dozen emails and none of them came out in any way that seemed appropriate or sincere, so I kept putting it off until I found better words. Finally I figured if I didn't say anything, I couldn't offend him, but it never occurred to me that my silence was much worse.
Yesterday morning my mother and I had a nice conversation, and at the end she said that she'd spoken with this person the day before. He had mentioned that neither my brother nor I had called or written or said anything when we saw him, and he asked if she had even told us what was going on. She said yes, and started to say we're both very busy and on weird schedules, we probably didn't want to call when he was asleep, etc. He said "You don't have to make excuses for them. They're both adults." She said he sounded hurt, and as she relayed all this, I got that awful sinking feeling that I have been a terrible, terrible jerk.
You see, I'm 26 now, but I need parenting as much as ever. I needed my mother to tell me I should have called or emailed just to wish him well. I may have felt awkward with the "I'm sorry you have cancer" opener, but really, he just needed to know we love him and support him. Anything would have been more appropriate than silence.
I felt really lousy for the rest of the day and night mulling over what to do. I felt like a heartless jerk, and I had no idea what to do to make it better. I knew I would be seeing this person this weekend, and when I talked to Eric about the situation I admitted that I didn't want to go to my own birthday party just because I didn't want to face it.
Finally, I decided to just be honest. I opened an email and started typing what I felt, what I'd wanted to say and why I didn't. I apologized profusely and ended it with the kind of warm and loving things I should have said in the first place. It felt so bizarre and awkward to expose my actual feelings to someone, to give a sincere apology that wasn't half-assed or making excuses, that I didn't think I should send it.
I had my mother read a draft, to make sure it was not offensive, and she responded that it was heartfelt and honest and I should just send it as it was. Trusting her wisdom, I clicked "Send" and had the kind of panic attack usually reserved for having to speak in public. "My God, he's actually going to read this, he's going to read my words and know they came from me, and then I'm going to have to see him in person, knowing that I said all this stuff..." and on and on it went. I started catastrophizing, thinking of all the negative responses he could have, trying to imagine being the recipient of such a letter.
I calmed myself down with the realization that I had at least said something, communicated with him, openly and honestly. If my silence was what hurt him, then any communication couldn't be worse.
I started worrying that he would think I'd only written him because my mother told me I'd hurt his feelings. Then I realized that's the truth. She didn't "make" me write him or even suggest that I should do something, but she made sure I knew I had done something wrong.
My mother has this belief that you can't make a person feel guilt, and I've come to agree with her. You can tell someone that what they said or did hurt your feelings, or that you think they've done something wrong, but if they don't have a conscience about it and don't agree with you, they will not feel guilty about it. Sure they might feel kind of bad for hurting you, but they won't feel guilt. What I felt yesterday was deep-down guilt, mired in shame. I knew I was wrong, and I was mortified that it took my mother pointing it out to me. I didn't write the letter because I thought I was supposed to - I did it because my conscience compelled me.
I am lucky, though, that my mother is still willing to parent me so well.
A little bit ago, I got a response to my email, thanking me for my kind words and saying that all is well between us now. I think that means I did the right thing.
One of the biggest lessons for me this summer was the real importance of honesty, openness, and communication. Maybe this experience can be the start of that for me... or at the very least help me break some of the silence I have with the people I love.
I also realize that watching TV impacts my imagination and limits the scope of my thoughts. While I want to say I'm not really impacted by advertisements, I walk around with product jingles and songs from commercials in my head all day. Clearly some of these messages are getting through, and they're probably clouding my values and thoughts about the world.
