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self-care

There was a lovely update in my inbox last week, from LW #1204, who was adjusting to hearing loss and having to drag-adjust everyone else in her life. Shared with permission:

“I got my hearing aids a couple weeks ago, and since then my life is inestimably better!  I can hear everything so well, I feel like Daredevil.  I’d never realised that the clock in my lounge (which I’ve had over 8 years) audibly ticks, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

With regard to husbandly, he realised how important subtitles were to me when he wanted to introduce me to a film.  We tried it without subs at first, and I was straining to hear the voiceover (Morgan Freeman’s voice is better than warm caramel, but it’s also kind gravelly and quiet!) – so he switched the subs on.  I was able to watch, and hear, and fully engage with the rest of the film.  It was beautiful and made me cry.  We talked about it the next day and he asked what I would have done if the subs hadn’t been on.  I told him – truthfully – that I would have given up on engaging, and gone to bed.  He then set subtitles to be on as the default option every time we watched anything together, and apologised for sometimes switching them off if he was watching something on his own after I’d gone to bed and forgot to switch them back on, until I got my brand new shiny magic ears.  Now I don’t even need the TV as loud as he does.

With regard to not-my-step-mother (yes, I’m deliberately creating a distance between her and me in my mind, it might not be the healthiest thing to do but it helps me), hubs and I have agreed that she will not be invited to our house again.  Any interactions that we have with her will be at a location we can – and will – walk away from.  That might be a nice restaurant, or my dad’s house, or recently a garden centre, so we can hang out and have nice “family times” but also we decide when time’s up and that’s when we walk away.  We also sometimes see my dad on his own; he understands that she can be frustrating, and isn’t going to force us to spend time with her for the sake of it.

I’ve chosen not to engage with any hearing impaired communities, online or offline, for the moment at least – but I know the option exists, so I might in future.  There is someone at work in a similar situation so I’ve reached out to her for advice on equipment that helped her with using a phone headset with hearing aids (I work in a call centre, and any time I cover my hearing aids – including with a headset – I get feedback…equipment is coming, it’s going to take a few weeks maybe, apparently it’s the best thing since sliced bread).”

What a relief! I never push for updates, since what people do with the advice is their business. I want people to use what’s useful to their own situation and feel totally free to reject what isn’t, and I don’t want to create pressure to have life come out a certain way or on a certain schedule. But I’m always excited when I hear someone is doing better, so, thank you for letting us know and I hope things continue getting better for you.

I am also pleased to report that your husband has graduated from #ThisFuckingGuy status and will be known as a #ThisFuckingGuy no more now that he both apologized and fixed the problem.

 

This piece written by Cass Ball is great.

And you can safely replace “20s” with “any part of adulthood.”

Now’s the part where I physically restrain myself from quoting the entire thing:

“When I’m coming from a place of scarcity, a place where everything feels like it isn’t enough,I often feel that I’m insufficient without more experience, and therefore at risk of lowering my boundaries and putting myself in unsafe situations. Ironically, feeling like I’m “too much,” like my needs are a burden, is also a form of scarcity: it indicates that I don’t think I’m worthy of my needs being met. When I’m approaching sex from a place of abundance, I can value my needs and feel that they’re just right, and I therefore can communicate both pleasure and boundaries with equal confidence and clarity. Coming from a place of abundance means that I can be with another person while also being there for myself. The more I practice identifying how I’m feeling, the more vulnerable I can be and the more pleasure I can bring into my life.”

This is a thing I have thought a lot but not quite known how to say in words, so, yes! I don’t think you have to “love yourself before you can love anybody else” (I think you can be kind to others and to yourself without having a specific feeling) but really sitting with your feelings and asking yourself, why am I doing this, what do I want, do I feel comfortable and safe, do I trust this person, what would this look like if I let myself be enough just as I am, is a good practice for sexual (& etc.) relationships at any age and any experience level, and something that does not get discussed in either the “People who Do It are like pre-chewed gum that fell in dirty snow, do you want to go to HELL?” or the “Hey your body is going to be going through some changes! Try not to get pregnant, get anyone pregnant, and do your level best to prevent this array of sexually-transmitted infections. Any questions, by which I mean, questions about PIV sex that can be answered with the steely intellect of pure science? I have brought these condoms and bananas for demonstration” models of sex ed.

Here is another bunch of things I often think but did not know quite how to say, about how there are lots of kinds of love and connection in our life and romantic and/or sexual relationships are just one kind of human interaction, not a Whole Separate Branch of Being Alive:

“People often consider romantic relationships to be in a league of their own, completely separate from platonic friendships. But connection is connection, intimacy is intimacy, and the skills that make for healthy, happy friendships also apply to romantic and sexual relationships. If the idea of beginning a romantic or sexual relationship without romantic or sexual experience is scary, consider the journeys you’ve gone on with friends. Before I ever dated someone, I had already built complex, stable, emotional, life-affirming friendships. I had broken down, emerged through conflict, healed, laughed, broken up with, cuddled with, supported, and loved friends. I had learned to communicate and listen. Consider what your strengths already are and where you can grow.”

Cass Ball, people. Cass Ball. Pick that mic up off the floor so we can see you drop it again. ❤

If you’ve written to me asking how to approach sex and dating when you are shy and nervous about being inexperienced, I’m probably going to link you here and to Commander Logic’s wonderful post for the rest of recorded time.

Hello! Search terms have piled up, let’s do the thing where we answer the search strings people typed in that led them here as if they are questions. Context is missing (by design), so expect some comedy answers in between with the sincere stuff.

Let’s kick things off with a song. Have I used this one before? Who knows? I never don’t want to listen to Bananarama.

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Part 1 is here. This is a feature where patrons of the blog have first crack at getting short questions answered, it lets us cover a lot of ground and have interesting discussions. Please consider supporting the site at Patreon or via other channels if you can, I appreciate it greatly.

Onto the questions! In this batch: What happens when your family gets mad you wrote about them, quelching an inconvenient crush, fictional recs for healthy conflict resolution, heading off body criticism around tattoos, habit trackers for ADHD folks, and resources for improving positive body image.

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Dear Captain Awkward;

Hello! I am 48 years old, pronouns she/her, and having trouble with my parents, specifically, my mother and her hoarding. My mom is trying to give more stuff to me than I can handle, and the lever she pulls to make it more painful is, “but it was your grandmother’s.” if I take everything that falls into this category, my home will be a literal shrine to my grandmother, and that’s spooky.

A year and a half ago, I quit working full-time to take care of my parents. For various health-related reasons, they couldn’t care for themselves anymore. They are due to move into a retirement community in about six weeks. My mom’s hoarding problem has been Bad since the 90s, and worsening since. They can still use normal sanitation (toilets, trash cans), my mom can bathe and groom herself when she wants to, they have clean bathrooms available, my mom can prepare meals and do laundry, as long as I’m there at least three days a week to clear her clutter away from high-traffic areas.

My father’s mother was a nearly perfect person. She was a perfect hostess, wife, mother, friend, volunteer, grandmother, great-aunt. Everyone who knew her loved her. She was always generous with time, effort, money, support. I look a lot like her, and apparently a lot of my mannerisms are similar.

My father’s mother died when I was 23. I went into a spiral of unhealthy behavior for about ten years after that, but managed to pull myself out.

When I was growing up, my mother’s mother died when I was about five, and my father’s mother filled that void for my mom. When my dad’s mom moved into a retirement community, we inherited most of her furniture. When she died, we inherited the rest of it. My mom developed a fascination with antiques and ceramics, and a bad shopping habit. She started volunteering at her church thrift shop (as my grandmother did), and brings home stuff every week, unless I’m there to stop her from doing it.

My husband and I moved into a new house, to take on the responsibility of having my brother (who has autism) move in with us. My mom feels that “part of the deal” is that I will take her furniture and collectibles, most of which were my grandmother’s. This “deal” feels like I’m taking on all the physical and emotional responsibilities that my grandmother did in the past: being the family maternal type who does all the physical and emotional labor, creating the perfect home, etc.

So, now, “but it was your graaaandmother’s” is an argument that’s applied to everything from the armchair upon which she stitched the needlepoint cushions, to warped Tupperware from the 1950s. It’s bad enough that my mom thinks she should save everything (jars, twist ties, junk mail, anything) and re-use it, because my grandmother was always thrifty. My grandmother wasn’t a hoarder. She used the same wrapping paper for Christmas every year, she had a “waste not, want not” mentality, but that was an exception to a general rule.

I’m already getting therapy for my own hoarding tendencies. My husband gets exasperated with how slowly I sort out a box of stuff, but I have practice getting rid of things that I don’t need, and I’m getting to be good at it. I like making a box or bag of donations on a Saturday or Sunday morning, taking it to a donation center and going for brunch at the diner afterwards.

The rock-and-a-hard-place moment happened a week or so ago. I said that I regretted not being able to develop my own taste. That made her really mad. I have said to my mom that I need to make my own living environment look the way I like it to be. I’ve said that I need to make my home comfortable on my own time table. These statements made her angry. She expects that I will furnish and decorate my home with my grandmother’s things, in my grandmother’s style. She wrote me an angry email saying that I have no taste, that I need to develop an eye, and that someday I would come to realize that my grandmother’s furniture was better than anything else out there. When I asked my mother about it, she pretended it wasn’t a big deal and laughed it off.

If I accept all of the stuff that my mom is pressuring me to take, my house will look like an overloaded furniture store from the 1920s, with framed family photos on every wall and surface, and my grandmother’s wedding dress on a mannequin. I don’t want to live in a shrine or museum.

Behavior, rather than stuff, is an issue here too. Because of my dad’s health issues, he behaves like a child most of the time. If I treat him like how his mother would treat him, we get along fine (i.e., “sure, you can have another cookie before your nap.”), but if I treat him like a daughter, he gets angry, My mom needs me to indulge her rather than give her structure, i.e., “we don’t have to fold the laundry, you can take a nap.” I think they expect me to take care of them as my grandmother took care of others.

I miss my grandmother every single day, and no objects will change that. I’d rather remember her for the things she did and said, rather than the things she bought and kept. I’d like to move on with my life and do new things.

So, how do I say to my mom, “please stop expecting me to be Grandmom?”

Thanks for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Shackled To Heirlooms

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Continued from the previous post to give me more time to think and help you rest your scrolling fingers. Click below the jump for: Not automatically taking on new volunteer responsibilities when others pile them on, talking to kids about fatphobia and disordered eating, supporting a friend with an alcohol addiction, and bouncing back when you fail at what other people think is your dream job by finding a better way to tell the story.

Additional content note: I mention pet death (RIP Beadie) in the last answer, because she’s part of my story about leaving a job.

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Welcome to the re-activation/remixing of “Short Answer Fridays,” where patrons of the site have first dibs for getting short questions answered. I broke it up into two parts, I’ll post the rest this weekend.

Q1 Scripts for when my mom talks about how she looks like a slob, or how she is such a lazy wretch because her house is a wreck (spoiler, it looks a million times better than mine). Or should I just grit my teeth and let it go, always an option. Love your work. Thank you for doing it. (she/her/hers)

I am allergic to self-deprecation in others (my own is another story), I strongly dislike the bonding ritual of putting yourself down as a gambit to get the other person to try to convince you that you’re great, and one way I deal with all of it is to playfully agree with the person. So I would go with “Ha mom, you’re right, what a dump!” or “Sure mom, you’re a slob, everybody knows!” 

I keep my tone light, I laugh, I change the subject as soon as I can because I don’t want to give it a ton of attention, the message is “I’m not playing this game with you.” I think these conversations are more between the other person and themselves than anything to do with me, so who am I to take a side?

Other people have luck with “Stop saying mean stuff about my mom you big jerk!” or sincere talks like “Why don’t we try saying only nice things about ourselves for a change” or “If you’d like some compliments or reassurance you can just ask, you know.”

Or there’s always Mr. Awkward, who’s 95-year-old friend often grouses about looking old and Mr. Awkward answers, deadpan, “Well, good news, Scoop, you don’t look a day over 96.” 

More questions after the jump.

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