Tag Archives: upset

Actions Taken and Puberty

“Actions taken that get responses you don’t want.”

This was what Emma typed in response to my question, what should we write about on the blog today?

Emma proposed making one blog entry a week, possibly asking for readers to answer some of her questions, but before we could continue, she had a  few concerns.

“Would thinking about stressful times cause upset?”  she typed.

I said that it might, but we could put a trigger warning above with the topic so that if the topic was something specific, people would be warned and could stop reading.  As I said this to her I marveled at her endless compassion and concern for other people’s feelings.  Then I said I believed that sometimes it can be helpful to know you aren’t alone in feeling and thinking things that you don’t necessarily know others feel and think, at least this has been my experience.

We discussed the experience of going through puberty and how adults will often talk about their children and what they believe they are going through, but not about their own experience of going through puberty.  “Maybe we should ask people to share their memory of puberty and what was the most difficult part about that period of their life?” I suggested.

Emma wrote, “You can ask and please say that if this question causes stress to not answer and next week I will ask a fun question.”

“That is such a thoughtful and kind thing to say, Emma,” I told her.

Before we ask for other people to share their experiences with either of these questions, Emma and I asked Richard to talk about “actions taken that get responses you don’t want.”

Richard said, “I put work out into the world, like my book and I want people to enjoy it, but some people say all kinds of nasty things, or let’s say I wrote a blog post and my intention is to be helpful to Autistic people and advocate for them, but because I’m not Autistic and I am highly opinionated, maybe I write things that are actually offensive to the very people I’ve meant to help.”

I asked Richard if this had really happened to him or if the last part was hypothetical.

“It’s hypothetical, but I certainly am capable of doing something like that.  People can do all kinds of things with good intentions that don’t get great responses.  To me the question is – what if you do things that you think are going to be helpful to yourself and other people and they aren’t and they aren’t appreciated either.”

I told Emma I would write about my experience with both these questions, so beginning with the first – actions taken that get responses you don’t want.

Saying something that is taken in a way I didn’t mean, particularly if it causes upset, anger or comes across as offensive.  There have been times when I’ve said something and not realized it was offensive until much later, but there have been other times when I’ve said something or asked a question and it’s been taken as meaning more than simply information gathering.

Puberty…

One of the things I really love about this question is that it’s one of those topics people don’t often talk about, at least not with any personal specifics unless it’s about someone else (often without that person’s permission) or in small groups.  So here’s the trigger warning – if the topic of puberty causes you stress, stop reading, otherwise, please join in and share a memory or an experience of going through puberty.  What was it like?  What was most challenging?  Please keep this about your own experience.  If you want to remain anonymous, you can always send your comment to the blog email address:  emmashopeblog@gmail.com or you can DM us on Emma’s Hope Book Facebook page.

We asked Richard to start things off: (insert smiley face here)

“It was the late sixties and early seventies and I became obsessed with – when will I have cool looking sideburns? –  I remember doing drawings of sideburns and imagining what my sideburns could look like.  I remember a lot of thinking about sideburns. They were emblematic of becoming a man.”

Okay, so I can’t really ask readers to share if I’m not willing to do the same, so here goes:

One of the more troubling memories I have of puberty was when I began to develop breasts and wanting to have them because most of the girls in my class already did and I was taunted by the boys at my school for not having any breasts.  They would yell, “hey flatsy!” at me when they passed me in the hallway or whisper it to me during recess.

But I also hated that I was developing them.  I had both feelings at once.  There was shame about my body for not looking like the other girls, but also fear and shame that I would.  I remember lying on my stomach at night, thinking this might limit or reduce their growth, only to put small wads of kleenex in my “training” bra to see what I would look like once I had them.

The larger issue, though I don’t think I was aware of it at the time, was the conflict of growing older and being excited by this, yet part of me wanted to stay a kid. And there was terror too.  I was going to say “fear,” but it was more than fear, it was real terror at the idea of looking more adult like and less kid like, coupled with growing into a woman’s body and not liking the attention that elicited, which interestingly enough ties this answer to Emma’s first question about – “actions taken that get responses you don’t want”  and very much encapsulates the essence of all that was problematic and difficult for me about puberty.

We’re turning these questions over to all of you now…

1.  Actions taken that get responses you don’t want

2. Puberty – what was your experience or a memory of that time in your life?

PubertyBoy2

People: Interpreting and Responding

Two days ago Emma told me I could write about people’s reactions to her, though it is more accurate to say this post is about my reactions to what I perceive to be people’s reactions.   I asked Em if I could write about that too and she gave me her permission.  My feelings are not necessarily the same as my daughter’s.  I may perceive someone’s curiosity and even confusion as annoyance or impatience or even outright anger, while Emma remains in the moment, without judgment or adding layers of interpretation to people’s responses to her.  Someone who makes a comment or tries to engage her in conversation, a person she then walks away from or answers with, “Emmaemmaemma!” I may decide is judging her harshly or is drawing conclusions about her that they may not be.  Sometimes I decide my daughter is saddened by the reactions she gets from others, yet when asked, she tells me she liked that person and felt happy meeting them.

So it was, a  few nights ago when a dozen or so people came over for dinner.  I knew only one of them, the rest being complete strangers.  Typically at any gathering, either here or at our home in New York City, we know almost everyone who enters our home.   And they, in turn, have met, or at least know we have two children.  Whatever happens is usually met with smiles and kindness.  People might ask questions, some will actively seek to engage, others do not attempt to, but all are friendly and take whatever happens in stride.  We have wonderful friends, and those who are not kind, are not our friends…  but this group was made up of people I’d never met and so when Emma said she wanted to sit at the dinner table with them, I felt a certain degree of trepidation.

I imagined they were confused by her and it felt awful.  I stood nearby, ready to interpret, ready to intervene, ready to take over, ready to control the situation.  But my daughter does not need me to take over, she’s perfectly capable of interacting with people without my intervention.  At one point she thrust her hand out blocking one woman’s view of her, so that the woman could not see Emma, or more accurately, Emma could not see her and the woman immediately made it into a game of peering over and under Emma’s hand.  Emma smiled and began to laugh.  “Don’t look at me!” she said in delight.  The woman stopped and made a big point of looking away.  Emma giggled.

I went into the kitchen briefly and when I returned, one woman I imagined, looked worried.  Another guest I thought seemed annoyed or maybe nervous.  I am sensitive.  I know this about myself.  I think I can “feel” people’s energy, and often I can, but sometimes I decide I know what others are thinking and feeling and I’m wrong.  I have always been hyper aware of people’s vibes, sensing their emotional state, which has caused me problems when I’ve been wrong, as well as kept me safe, when I’ve been correct.

After everyone left, Emma said to me, “Have another dinner party tomorrow?”

“Did you have a good time, Em?”  I asked.

“Yeah!”

“How did you feel when that woman was looking at you and you held your hand out blocking her view of you?”  I asked.

“Playing don’t look at me game!”  Emma answered, laughing.

“Was that fun?” I said, wanting to make sure she was okay with the interaction that had taken place.

“Yeah!  Another dinner party tomorrow!!”

After Emma went to sleep, I lay awake, feeling troubled.  Emma’s experience of people is not the same as mine.  I am fearful of people, or I tend to be.  My daughter does not share my fears.  I sense people’s intent and often believe what I’m sensing, as though it were fact.  I hear and sense people’s words, often read between the lines, take their words, add my interpretation of them from the way they hold themselves, the tone they use, the way they look and draw conclusions from all these factors.  My daughter does not do what I do.  I’m not sure how she interprets others, but I do know it is different from the way I do.  Both my children interpret the world differently from me.  This is a good thing.

Neither of them are as fearful as I am.  Neither of them shrink in fear when someone is angry as I do.  Neither of them physically pull away when someone raises their voice as I do.  I have a physical response to what I perceive people are thinking and feeling.  I feel slightly nauseous when I think someone is angry, even if they are not, or if they’re angry, but not about anything to do with me, I still feel uneasy.  If someone seems particularly upset, my hands will shake, it’s hard for me to speak.  If I become angry, my face will turn red, my whole body feels hot and I will begin to shake.  If very upset I cannot form coherent sentences.  Sometimes, whether angry or hurt, I feel pain in my chest and it becomes hard to swallow, my breathing becomes shallow and it feels as though there is less oxygen in the room.  All of these things are ways of adapting, I understand this, but I also am relieved when I see both my children not interpreting people and therefore not responding to a perception of people’s emotions as I do.

Performing for guestsPerforming