On Pushers and Pullers

On Sunday I was sitting in church. There was a row of older people sitting in front of me. They were sitting toward the outside of the bench with open space in the middle. Sacrament meeting was about to start and this younger woman approached them and asked if she could sit by them. The woman on the outside said, "No, my husband is coming to sit here." And I was disgusted. She really could have said, "My husband is coming but we can surely make room. We'll scoot down." But, in that second, she dismissed this girl and her needs without a second thought. Then, later this week Sierra had an orchestra concert. As I walked in and began eying the folding chairs in the back of the auditorium I realized (in my 5 second scan) that there weren't very many open seats. I saw a neighbor and so gravitated towards her to assess the situation. As I approached her, a relative she was sitting with, said to me (as I was saying "Hello! How are you guys?) "I'm sorry we have people coming. You can't sit here." Oh. Okay. Not that I was going to sit down anyway. But obviously your family is much more important than mine. No, I didn't say it. I just walked away. And when another neighbor (who is notoriously much more aware of others people's needs) waved me over to squish in with her family, I smiled, told her I was just fine, and then walked up to the side of the gym and made my own seats. Why does it matter? It doesn't except that both of these seat-saving people quite simply dismissed reaching out and helping someone. They deemed their needs more important.

So I must be super-sensitive lately. Either that or some people just really are insensitive. And, you know, it may just be a weakness of mine altogether. I don't like to depend on people. I don't like to ask favors from people. I don't like to interact with people in situations where there is a chance that I have a valid need and they don't care. And this is why I build walls. If I have a wall then you can't get in and I don't need to come out and there isn't a chance that you can tear me down or show your lack of interest in my life. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not claiming that I am "Mrs. Sensitivity" and am all that wonderful at meeting other's needs. Truth be told, I am not. In fact I am really bad at it. And maybe this is part of the reason I hate asking others for help--because I know that I am so bad at giving it. So safety lies in me handling my own issues by myself. You see, I have issues. I'll admit it. And when it comes down to it and I have to ask someone for help (and trust me when I say "have to" because in reality I have gone over the situation five-hundred times in my head and tried to figure out a way around asking anyone for help and weighed out what is most important and ultimately decided that having a qualified babysitter is more important than my inability to ask people for help) and so then ask for said help and someone, anyone, doesn't act like my need is important then I assume that that person doesn't really care about me or agree with what I deem important. That person that I had decided to trust enough to ask for help shot me down. And then all those dirty looks and those shunning words from junior high come back to haunt me. I am no longer the secure, self-confident mother of five. I am once again an awkward weird-o who walks quickly down the halls of school trying desperately to look like I have something much more important to do than hanging out with all the cool kids. Chances are I would hang up the phone from said person, shake my head in disgust or even try to hold back a few tears, and then build that wall back up again. Then, after a few hours of self-pity I would start working on the logics of the situation. I would tell myself that the said person was simply busy and meant no harm. I would tell myself that I have done the same thing. I would tell myself that it didn't matter. But I would still cry because let's face it, once you're in the pity-pot it's a lot harder climbing out than it was jumping in.

And you want to know the funny thing? You can try and offend me. You can say any number of flippant, rude, remarks about me or about how my house is always a mess or about how my kids hair is never done and I really wouldn't care. You can say you don't like me. You can say whatever you want and I honestly feel like I can look at the situation for what it is--either learn from it or let it go. BUT if it's me approaching you and if it's me actually having to ask you to help me then I feel like I am putting something out there that I wouldn't otherwise choose to do (even though all you hear me says is "Is there a chance that you could help me..." and not "I have thought this through a million times and it's simply one of those situations where I need outside help, even though I don't want to ask for it, I can't see a way around it."). And the minute you shoot me down you may as well have ripped my heart out and stomped on it and then shoved it back in all crumpled and dirty. And then up goes the wall. No big deal. I don't need you. I will never need you again either.

Okay, so I'm being over-sensitive. I realize it. But I guess the whole point of this post is this: You don't really know anybody. You know what they want you to see. You don't know that I am about to break into heart-wrenching sobs of uncontrollable crying because I am already teetering on the edge of insanity anyway and just that one little jab from you will push me over the edge. And yet saving that seat is much more important. Overdramatization? Probably. And yet it's true. You never know when someone is teetering on the edge and the one little kind act of moving over or even giving up your seat may pull them back a little bit the other direction.

So, thank you to all of you who are pullers instead of pushers. And to the rest of you jabbers; it's no biggie. I don't need you. And I will never need you again either.

And, lest you think all logic has gone out the window whilst I am soaking in this post of pity, I think I will start working on being less of a pusher and more of a puller. After all, what goes around comes around, right?