Communication is Key

I met a woman at work last month. It was clear to me that the woman had anxiety. Perhaps it is how closely she resembled a former coworker I had, but she had an anxious energy to her. I asked how she was coping with the decline in her mother's health. The woman shared that she colors in coloring books, does yoga, and utilizes mindfulness. Based on all of those things, I could smell her anxiety diagnosis a mile away. But hey, not my concern. Live your life, see you next month.

This month, I tried to contact the woman and she asked that we do a call the following day. Much easier than an in person visit, no sweat. So I call the woman at our agreed upon time, no response. I called again yesterday. No response. That fucking anxiety is rearing it's ugly head again. I texted the woman, telling her I was just checking in. She hit me back with a short response that they were doing well. Wasn't quite sure why I was so annoyed at the time, but I was.

Truthfully, it wasn't even her that irritated me. It was more so that I really can't understand how grown ass people in 2022 seem to have defaulted to just disappearing. I can understand anxiety, I can understand feeling overwhelmed. What I can't seem to grasp is when adults are called upon to handle adult responsibilities, and they just shut down. That was never an option for me growing up. Shit got rough, but you stand there and you handled it. You might cry in the car on the way home, but goddamn it, you handle your shit.

Falling apart was never a viable option the way I was raised. When my parents separated, my dad went back to school and my mom got up and took her ass to work to take care of us. I've never witnessed people that just walk away from their problems. And every time I've ever ignored problems, they always magnified almost over night, so I learned early on to handle my shit.

So I just don't understand how I seem to be surrounded by grown ass people whose default seems to be to stand still and not say or do shit when things are falling apart. People quit jobs on a whim. Not even putting in notice and looking for other jobs, they just stop showing up and stop answering phones. Friends fall off the earth. Motherfuckers just don't know how to deal and I can't deal with them.

I normally would just accept that I hate that shit, but what made me figure out that I need to figure this out is that I'm a mental health professional and I need to find a way to work through my obvious bias. I called my best friend, a teacher, in order to get some perspective. She asked how I'd handle it if one of my clients acted in this way.

In case of this particular patient's daughter, although she is my client, it isn't my role to do intensive exercises to work her through her anxiety. If I were her actual therapist, I would have her to complete exercises, and coach her through establishing and building boundaries and learning when and how to say yes and no. But I'm not her therapist. It's simply my job to support her and her mother through the mother's decline, no more, no less. It's not really my place to say to her "perk up, your failure to communicate is ineffective in allowing you the space to fully provide support to your mother and yourself."

I tried calling another friend, but he too was stuck in what to say to help me through my aggravation at this phenomenon. Then I decided to call my former boss. I enjoy talking to him about what I learn about human behavior and he always does a great job helping me to process my feelings.

I happened to have coffee with him the other day. I shared with him about Theo and about an incident where I'd gone downstairs and started reading a book, when Theo came down asked if I was coming upstairs. I was enjoying the book, and told him that I was comfortable where I was and that I'd be up eventually. He asked again, but I assured him that I'd be up when I was ready. I figured he just wanted to make sure that I wasn't trying to sleep downstairs.

The next morning Theo and I had a spat when he said that he'd tried to get me to have sex with him the previous evening, but that I declined. I reminded him that he asked me "are you coming upstairs?" which did not, in any way, constitute an invitation for sex. He said that I should have known. I responded with "so you want me to be a mind reader?" to which he incredulously responded with "yes!"

Hold the phuck up! I am exceptional in numerous ways, but I am not, nor have I ever been a mind reader and I couldn't believe that this dude was mad at my inability to do the impossible. My former boss shared with me how as a therapist, he often has to work with couples who feel that others should just know what they mean, even when they aren't being clear. When I'd suggested to Theo that he do therapy, he suggested that we do couple's therapy. I declined, based on the fact that I've done the work, and I continue to do it. But I was not going to be his crutch while he worked through his issues.

I asked my boss about my existential communication crisis. Why the hell am I so angered at the inability of people to effectively communicate? My former boss admitted that he too struggled for many years with an inability to communicate. I couldn't believe it, he and I have gotten on famously since the day we met. He explained that what changed him was after his friend killed himself. Former boss wanted to know what it was that drove his friend to the unthinkable, rather than communicate feelings of hurt and hopelessness? My colleague then began to quiz the men around him and realized that many of them lacked the basic ability to communicate feelings. Even if they needed to communicate that they don't know how to communicate. So often, these men will shut down or even get angry, because they lack the ability to calmly and in a healthy manner express feelings.

That was the first time I'd began to feel sympathy for Theo. I knew that he had shit to work through, but between what my former boss said and things I knew about his past, I started to recognize that he's genuinely an unhealed child that never learned how to properly love and be loved. He pretended to know (while we were dating early on), but once he moved in and could no longer hide, it was apparent that he had no idea how to just be a basic person at ease, so he created chaos. At that point, I'd started to wonder if I should have gone to therapy with him, but even still, at the time I had a child to care for and my own emotional scars to work through, I was in no place to begin to be responsible for his self-work. But at the end of the day, I realize that Theo could never have worked through his shit if he didn't want to. I could have begged and pleaded, but until he was really ready to stand on his feet and do the work and recognize the role he played in many of his own failures, he'd never fully see things. So I was best to end it when I did. Before it got detrimental.

I like to think of myself as an effective communicator, based on the fact that I literally LOVE communication, to the point where that's what I majored in while attending Kennesaw. I'm fascinated by how people communicate and what drives us. I'm fascinated by the media and how it impacts us, the messages that we continue to give and receive. I'm so fascinated by communication and my enjoyment with communicating, that I still blog here, over 10 years after I started, hundreds of posts later. Writing and effective communication are genuinely my first loves.

But I guess even I fall short sometimes. Things are still going with Jon. Slowly, but surely. A few weeks back, I spent the night at Jon's home. I didn't really want to fall through, I was hanging with Fred and a mutual friend, having a good time, when Jon encouraged me to fall through. I was relatively close, so I went by afterward. Some things went down that evening that I wasn't keen on. One of which involved the fact that Jon keeps his home almost freakishly cold. I continued to utter that I was cold, but nothing was done to remedy that. The following morning, as he got dressed for work, I tried to address my feelings, but Jon explained that while getting dressed, he has a particular order of things, and discussions in the middle of that would mess up his groove. I quit talking and waited for him to walk me to my car.

I drove home, deciding that things should end. I felt ignored, and slightly disrespected. I'm not desperate enough to enter into anything that doesn't make me feel good. Jon and I didn't speak for a few days, so I guessed he'd felt some kind of way about me as well. So be it. I was a bit disappointed, after knowing Jon for years as a friend. But what stuck with me was some years ago when a day or so after Jon and I fooled around, he called me on his own to apologize for some things he did that he felt were out of line. One day, I decided that fuck it, I'll tell him how I felt about our last encounter, so that he'll at least be aware of how his behavior impacted me. 

I texted Jon and said "You probably won't care, but I felt really disrespected after the last time we hung out." He texted back almost immediately, asking what was wrong. I explained that it was a lot to type, but asked him to call me. He said that he was at a family function, but that he'd call me afterward.

And sure enough, he called me. I told him about the things that I'd encountered the last time we hung out and how they'd made me feel. He assured me that he'd had no malicious intentions and apologized if I'd felt disrespected. Then we discussed the unbearably low temp in his apartment. He explained that he shouldn't be expected to be burning up in his own home. I told him that he didn't have to burn up, but that offering me a blanket or a sweat shirt would have been sufficient. "Okay" was his response. 

A few days later, we were in a good space again, back to playing Words with Friends and talking shit via text message during our work days. Jon invited me back to his home. I agreed, happy to see him again. I asked, in all earnestness, if I should bring a sweatshirt. It wasn't my attempt at being catty, it was my attempt at being efficient. I figured I'd get to his home and just see how things went.

As I arrived, we hugged and I told him that I hate him, which is customary for us. As I went back into the bedroom, I saw on my side of the bed, a beautiful fleece blanket. He listened. He heard me. No snide comments from him, no intentionally making me freeze, while pretending not to hear me. The last time I'd been at his home, I asked him to turn the thermostat up to 70°, which resulted in me freezing my ass off. On this particular night, as we settled into bed, I heard him say "Alexa, turn the thermostat to 66°." I wrapped my fleece blanket tightly as I grabbed his hand and smiled to myself.

I realized that part of why I was afraid to tell Jon how I'd felt was because I'd been conditioned by men to ignore my needs or have them play stupid or play head games by intentionally doing exactly what I'd asked them not to do. Or based on what I'm learning about men, perhaps they really didn't know how to do the right thing? I don't feel like trying to figure it out either way. 

I remain unsure on how things will go with me and Jon. So early. But I'm learning a lot. I like that we take things slow. I like that I'm not as needy with him, although he wouldn't allow that anyway. I love that he's a concise communicator. I love that he's a communicator, period.