Self Care and True Connection

I just had someone come up to me and exclaim, “Where have you been?  I haven’t talked to you in forever!  How are you?”

Twenty minutes later, I had not had the opportunity to answer her question, but I now know about her sick kids, the annoying thing her husband did and how stressful her holidays are going to be.

I wish I could say this was limited to this one person, or was a unique incident, but it is not.   In the past 6 months or so, I have noticed that I often find myself saying, “How are you?” and leaving a conversation realizing that I am being talked at, not talked to.  That my only role in the conversation is to provide support, encouragement and empathy. 

The few times I tried to shift the balance, I was disheartened to find that my "friend" was uncomfortable with opening space for my stories, quickly changed the subject or beat a hasty exit.  In two particularly hurtful cases where I shared some heartbreaking news, they actually curled their lips into an EWW face before their emotional or physical exit.

Don’t get me wrong, I am honored that people feel they can trust me with their stories.  I really am.  But I have recently come to realize that while I can identify many people who I feel I know intimately, there is not even a handful that I can say truly know me. 

I have been feeling angry, hurt and resentful.  And most of all, lonely. 

The past two months have been really really rough and I made some deliberate choices to engage in some self-care for the two of us.  Part of that is to be more selective about in whom and what I am investing my time. 

Facebook and other social media has made us relationship-lazy.  Being friends online is misconstrued as true connection.  We substitute an emoji or a “like” for legitimate interaction.  We delude ourselves into thinking that’s enough to sustain a relationship.   We have fallen prey to quick comments replacing meaningful conversation.  We text, to avoid talking.   

Social media and online engagement have its place.  I personally have benefited with some great relationships with people far away; people I would not know or be close to without it.  But the wholesale replacement of face-to-face, hearing a voice, sharing space with another human is unhealthy for our humanity and our hearts.

We have become so attuned to this largely one-way method of communication that we are losing our ability to interact, to converse, to dialogue instead of monologue. 

My decision to not be readily available for one-sided interactions I am sure has hurt some people, and for that, I am truly sorry.

To those who regularly call, text, engage with me in conversation, post meaningful responses to my social media posts – my profound gratitude for being willing to show up, be seen and for seeing me.  Thank you.

Sharing Our Stories

Two weeks ago, we learned of the tragic death of someone in our family.  Being a deeply personal loss, I shared this information with only a couple of people with whom I felt closest.   

However, those I told looked confused, muttering an “I’m sorry” before changing the subject or rushing off.  One curled her lip, almost in disgust.  One never responded to my email yet sent a text about her own life’s issues. 

It is a painful realization to see that a person or a relationship is not how I perceived it.  To realize that the effort I put into being a friend has been one-sided.  To feel foolish for thinking it was more than it was.  And to realize that I am lacking true friendship.  This piece is about being in this place.

I am that person.

I am the person you call when you are pissed at your spouse, your boss, your mom.

I am the person you talk to when the “popular” moms are being bitchy again, when the soccer association is making you crazy and when the crazy teacher is again assigning 3 hours of homework a night.

I am the person you bitch to about your car troubles, your ex- troubles, your handyman troubles.

I am the person you vent to when your kid isn’t sleeping through the night, your teen isn’t talking to you or your child isn’t doing their homework.

I am the person who listens and offers advice and empathy.  I am the person who hugs you and tells you that it’s going to be OK, that you are doing a good job and you are enough.

I am that person.

I am also that person who congratulates you on the raise, but isn’t invited to celebrate.

The person who oohs and ahhs over pictures of your new niece, nephew, renovation, and receives no responses on her own.


I am the person who rejoices for your birthday parties, your vacations, your graduations, but who is never invited.

The person who cheers for your kids winning citizenship awards, championships, solos in the band concert, yet hears nothing when my child is awarded.

I am that person.

But do you SEE me?  Do you really see me as me, and not as that person?

Have you noticed that I have withdrawn?  That I am not engaging with you. 

That I am not seeking you out?

Have you noticed that my responses are less enthusiastic than normal?  That my advice isn’t as sound?  That I am edging away from our conversation.

Have you noticed me trying to tell you what’s going on in my life, only to see confusion cross your face.  To hear your platitudes and superficial assurances.  To witness you change the subject back to your issue du jour. 

To see my email go unanswered.  My text go ignored.  My posts left with no comments.

Do you see me as ME?  Not as an extension of you, not as a sounding board, not as your trusted confidant? 

Do you see that you continue to make withdrawals without depositing back into our “friendship”?  That you take from me what I willingly give, and give only the barest crumbs in return? 

My reserves empty, my heart aching, my soul longing, I now see that I have earned the right to hear your stories, but you have not earned the right to hear mine. 

I see that I have permitted you to breach my boundaries, to overwhelm my reserves and fill yourself with my love and empathy.

I see that I deceived myself into thinking we had a friendship.

I see that I cannot do that any longer.  I see that you only notice that you are not receiving. 

I see that I feel more alone than ever.

This may be the ending of our story.  One way or another, it is the beginning of my new story, and I will fill it with people who have earned the right to hear it.  

Gym Class Misses the Point

I am over gym class.  I am really not understanding the purpose.  Not that I don’t think physical education is important, because I totally do.    But from what I can tell gym class really should be renamed Sports Education Class with an occasional play time thrown in.  Because that’s REALLY what many PhysEd classes have become.

That is all well and good – if you have an athletic kid.  The kids who play soccer, football, hockey, baseball and basketball, well, gym class is a dream.  But if you are an academic kid, or a computer science kid or an artistic kid or a theater kid, gym class is your worst nightmare.   And unfortunately, teachers aren’t doing much to fix it.

The same kids are picked to be captains – the athletes, the outgoing kids, the popular kids, the favorites.  The same kids are picked last – the brainy kids, the creative kids, the differently thinking kids.  Why is this a problem?  Because when we don’t give those other kids a chance, we will never know what kind of leaders the non-sports-minded kids could be, they could develop into, because they aren’t given a chance? 

Some teachers employ the rule that if you are picked last this class, you are captain in the next.  Others go down the roster so every kid gets a chance.  Kudos to those teachers for giving every kid a chance to experience being a team leader. 

It is shocking to me how many gym teachers do not give every kid a chance.  Isn’t that the whole point of education – to give young humans the opportunity to learn and experience so they figure out what they like and don’t, what they are good at or not, what they aspire to or don’t?  But if some kids never get the chance to try, how will they ever learn?

But I digress from my original intention of this piece.   Which is to ask why we ONLY teach sports in gym class (with the occasional violence of the barbaric dodge ball game, which is a whole other subject).  Then we ask the kids to do fitness tests, where they have to do pull ups and sit ups and timed runs and a host of other tasks to assess their fitness.  Except we don’t teach them how to do these things.  We don’t train them for these tests. 

Gym teachers don’t teach them the proper form so they don’t injure themselves.  Gym class doesn’t prepare them for or provide them with the strength and endurance they need to do the tasks they are measured on.  Why? 

Why don’t we teach them HOW to do these activities?  Why don’t we teach them WHY to do these activities?  Why it is important to be strong?  To have endurance?  To be flexible?  

Which leads me to my next point.  Why do we only teach sports?  Why do we not teach proper stretching technique?  Or dance?   Or yoga?  Or Zumba?  Or how to train for a marathon?    

There are TONS of ways to stay active and fit and healthy – why do gym classes only teach sports?