Carol H Tucker Passionate about knowledge management and organizational development, expert in loan servicing, virtual world denizen and community facilitator, and a DISNEY fan
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beladona Memorial Be warned:in this very rich environment where you can immerse yourself so completely, your emotions will become engaged -- and not everyone is cognizant of that. Among the many excellent features of SL, there is no auto-return on hearts, so be wary of where your's wanders...
When I hear those three words, I cringe. When they are said to me, it is an indication that something is wrong, that my behavior has changed to the point that people who don't even know me very well notice. When I am quiet, when I stop communicating and/or asking questions, that means I am disengaging. It is also a symptom of depression. It means that I don't feel necessary anymore. One of the worst things that someone can do to me is to refuse to communicate; silence is a potent punishment. Walking away in the middle of an argument will set me into a frenzy. And one of the few things that will flick my "DONE" switch instantly is to have the phone slammed down in my ear in the middle of a heated conversation.
In each relationship, there is a degree of emotional investment. In working relationships, we invest just enough to "get along", to be effective [winces and sighs, then leaves the stupid buzz word in place]. With acquaintances and social mavens, we invest a little bit more, trying to be friendly. And with friends, lovers and family we invest a great deal. I visualize it as a series of nested circles: the core that is truly intimate, the next that knows you well and you are vulnerable to and with, the next ring that are friendly but are not known or knowing as deeply, the next that are acquaintances and then the universe of everyone else.
With each layer of relationship, there comes a time when a choice must be made -- a choice to continue to engage, to continue to open up to the other person, to continue to care. Sometimes the choice is to become more engaged, to communicate more, to trust more, to be with someone more, to deepen and broaden the connection. Sometimes the choice seems to be made by default -- interests change, folks move away, time constraints intervene and you just lose touch. Sometimes the choice is concious and deliberate to disengage -- a line is drawn because a boundary is needed, a decision is made that the relationship is more trouble than it is worth, a choice to allocate finite resources of time and attention elswhere.
When someone chooses to be quiet with me, I really struggle with my reaction, flailing about trying to get my balance. My first reaction is concern: are they okay? did something happen? What can I do to help? Then I question myself: what did I do wrong? How did I give offense? why didn't I meet their needs? I want to contact, justify, explain, console, understand, change the behavior to something I am more comfortable with.... And at last, I grieve and accept the different level of intimacy because it is not within the realm of my control -- expectations change as relationships develop over time.
A personal story: When Grandmom Hughes was alive, she expected me to call her every single day because that was the relationship we had. Once she became an adult, my daughter and I had to work on what the expectations were of contact between the two of us -- she felt that talking to me every day or even every other day was unreasonable and intrusive. It was an emotional time, but we weathered it, and she has the distance that she wanted and needed. I had to accept that she just doesn't need or want her mother around as much. It does not mean that we love each other less and it is geuinely okay.
One thing that I have had to learn about myself is that I do not deal with boundaries well. I have also learned that I do not always accurately project the acceptance that I truly feel, that questions can impact others as judgemental just by asking. Another, taught by two divorces, is that hate is not the opposite of love, indifference is. And last, I have had to learn that my reactions are my problem, not the other person's and that they do not have to deal with them. And I have had to make a series of commitments to myself: I will not rail and hammer at them. I will not demand explanations or spout constant self-justifications in the name of closure. And I will not betray what trust or confidence that had been given by talking about the other person.
I have problems letting those I have cared about and opened up to go, but I will....
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