Art and Life
- At October 07, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
To all the artists in the world: THANK YOU!
Of All the Things I’ve Lost…
… I miss my mind the most.
I don’t know where the joke originated, but I can relate.
Although for me, it’s not my mind, it’s my glasses. Yup, I lost my glasses this morning. (Losing my mind came later.)
Anyone who wears glasses understands the conundrum. How do you look for your glasses when you can’t see to search, because you LOST YOUR GLASSES??
In fact, I have more than one pair, so it wasn’t quite that traumatic. But still, they were my favourite, newest ones, my Juicy Couture frames in a nice cranberry colour. The ones that make me look like Lorraine Bracco.
And seriously. They’re either on my nose, my dresser or my night table. Maybe the bathroom counter. Possibly my car. But that’s it. How far can they go?
My girls gave me that “here she goes again” look when I asked them this morning if they’d seen them. I don’t misplace things as often as I probably should, given my rather loosely organized lifestyle. But it makes me absolutely batcrap crazy when I do. It’s all I can think about.
Why aren’t they where they should be? Why? WHY? Where are they hiding? Where? WHERE??? Am I going blind?? Am I insane?? (This is where my mind started to go.)
Is someone gaslighting me?? WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME THAT I CAN’T FIND THEM?
They must be in one of the usual spots, right? So I look AGAIN on the bathroom counter, the night-table, the dresser. My car. My office. The laundry room. The kitchen. Nope, nope, no, no, of course not, why are you even looking there??
Then an awful thought dawned on me.
I sometimes set them on the bed before I do my nightly sit-ups.
Quickly I patted down the comforter and the quilt. The usual creases and bumps were there, but nothing resembling crumpled stylish plastic in a flattering cranberry shade. But my spidey senses were tingling.
I slid my hand down between the mattress and the footboard, and voila! there they were, in all their stylish glory, miraculously unharmed and uncrumpled. Instantly I tossed aside my older, unfavourite glasses and put the Juicys back home where they belonged, grateful for the return of both glasses and sanity. (And of course my perfectly composed Dr. Melfy look.)
From now on, they’re either on my nose or the dresser. That’s it.
Maybe the night-table.
Possibly the bathroom counter.
But that’s IT.
Same Words, Different Conversations: the Language of Marriage
Picture the scenario: Man slumps home to his young family after work, barely speaking, shoulders tight, forehead creased.
The actual conversation:
She says: “Are you okay?”
He says: “I’m fine.”
She says: “You look tired.”
He says: “I have a headache.”
She says: “Ouch. Is there anything I can do?”
He says: “No.”
Within this brief interchange is a world of unspoken communication, a whole theatre of marital misunderstanding. Permit me to elucidate.
After 23 years of practice, and the help of a gifted marriage counselor – who can finally put in that pool thanks to us – my husband and I are experts at decoding the murky messages underlying such communications. We may not always choose to use our powers for good, but it’s there for us anyway.
For those of you who may still be struggling with the, for want of a better explanation, language barrier, I’d like to offer up my expertise, free of charge.
Here’s how that brief conversation above plays out, in his experience:
Man comes home to young family after work, slumped, quiet, tense.
She says: “What’s the matter with you? And don’t blame me. I’ve done everything I can do to make your life easier, at incredible personal sacrifice. And you just walked in the door, for god’s sake!”
He thinks: I’m a man. I’m fine. At least, I would be, if you’d get off my back, for one single second. And I just walked in the door, for god’s sake.
He says: “I’m fine, honey, just a little tired. You look very pretty. Can I help with dinner?”
She says: “Don’t ‘pretty’ me. That’ll get you exactly nowhere. You think you’re tired? You don’t know the meaning of the word, buddy. You should try spending a day running after your hell spawn. I hope you’re not hungry because I didn’t have time to get groceries.”
He thinks: Well you clearly didn’t spend your day cleaning. But I should cut her some slack. It’s my fault her life sucks, after all, I got her pregnant. Ah the good old days, when we used to have sex.
He says: “Sorry I’m such a bear, darling. I have a teeny little headache, that’s all. I’ll try not to inconvenience you with my pain.”
She says: “”YOU have a headache? Well, I’VE got a migraine. Why, right now, I believe my head might explode, splat, all over the kitchen. Probably because it’s my time of the month, hormones you know. It’s hell being a woman, you have no idea. Can you watch the kids for a few hours? I need to lie down. I’m cramping. And I blame you.”
He says: “Of course, sweetness, I only wish I could spend more time with our precious angels.” Dang, I’m a good husband. Too bad it won’t get me some.
Here’s how she experiences the same conversation:
She thinks: Uh-oh. Rough day, by the looks of it. I was hoping for some help with the kids, but I guess not.
She says: “Are you okay?
He answers: “I’m fine. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”
She thinks: That hurts, but cut him some slack. Maybe it’s not me. Someone needs to be the bigger person here, and that’s clearly not a Y-chromosome kind of job. But I’ll tell you what, there’s no sex tonight.
She says: “You look tired. Can I rub your feet? I’m hear to listen, if you’d like to talk. Or just be together, quietly. Whatever you need, sweetheart.” Except sex.
He answers: “I have a headache.”
She thinks: Well of course! That explains everything! I’ve had enough headaches in my life to understand just what you need when you’re feeling rough. And you’re a man, so you naturally have a lower pain threshold. I can take care of this.
She says: “Oh poor you! Can I give you a neck massage? Get you an ice pack? Some Advil? Here, sit down, put your feet up.”
She thinks: Dang, I’m a good wife. But you’re still not getting sex.