Ever try to explain why you do what you do … something carried over from your childhood … and you wish you had “proof” to illustrate your “excuses”?
Aha! I found proof in this 1973 photo! (Only because I save everything!) My husband and I had talked about how certain habits — good or bad — were planted years before we even met each other. I’m so nice I won’t talk about his …
He asked why I have to have stuff in bed every night, and not just him … and the cats. We don’t have all those pretty pillows that have to be moved every night. We do have our own comforters on our king size bed because it’s more comfortable that way. On that we agree.
When I go to bed, I rarely fall sleep immediately, so I’ve always got a book, a notebook, a laptop, a stuffed animal, a live animal, uh cat. I explained that some of my most creative ideas come at the close of the day, not the morning, where many artists find their inspiration. Or sometimes in the middle of the night. Non-creative people just don’t get that.
This photo shows that those habits were established early. A stuffed white swan and now a real white cat. And a notepad to document all the ideas swirling in my head. That doesn’t look too comfortable but my hands and fingers were a little more nimble then. And now replaced by a laptop.
I know all the research about light and do have the night setting, but when I prop my laptop on a pillow in front of me, my bed position hasn’t changed a bit from this photo.
Is it because I was an only child? Likely. Roger had to sleep with his brother for years because of a household of five kids and two parents. I had a choice what went to bed with me … what calmed and relaxed me … because I’m blessed and cursed to have a brain that rarely shuts down.
Many a night Roger has closed my laptop and moved it when I’ve fallen asleep at the keyboard. And many a night he’s learned to pull the comforter more over his head when the glow of the screen descends like an alien spaceship.
Is this a bad habit? I don’t think so. It’s just different. And this isn’t the only ritual that has followed me since childhood … the need for space … and quiet time when I simply have nothing to say, which I mention occasionally. I say this with great love that he talks too much and I talk too little.
But that’s what makes Roger Roger. And me me. I think of the term compromise that is tossed around a lot these days … especially the lack of it or understanding what it really means. Ego really kills the party … in more ways than one.
Compromise made in desperation and frustration has little chance of succeeding in the long-term … which only creates more desperation and frustration … especially when people only want power in the end … not a true meeting of the minds to determine what is and isn’t necessary for the best solution, which will not make everybody 100 percent giddy, but you will survive.
I think of baseball players who get paid millions for hitting 3 out of 10 and everyone sings their praises. Why can’t we be happy with 4 or 5 or 6 out of 10? That seesaw of life would be a lot more stable.
I have compromised with my husband by indulging his need for more talk at the table. And I’ve scaled down to an iPad with a smaller screen so I can read in the middle of the night when I need a distraction from thinking and not pollute the bedroom light.
Whew! I didn’t die, I didn’t give up, I didn’t sulk away in defeat. I sought power only over my own life, not anyone else’s … and it made me better and more empathic … and a better life partner.
Hmm, maybe I’ll send Roger to places where compromise is desperately needed … and they’ll happily give in when he starts talking … which makes me love him all the more …
So, what’s your story? Drop me a line at monicavestwheeler@gmail.com or leave a comment. I’d love to speak to your group, organization or company about working our way through the pain and challenges of everyday life. You want straight talk? You got me!
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