Man, I thought after last week I was going to be able to get back to worrying about my own little banal problems here in my own little nook of the world in our own little nook of universe. And then some terrorist asshole drives over a bunch of people in France, and Turkey might be experiencing a coup d'état, the ramifications of which are probably very profound. (I can't say for sure because I don't know anything about Turkey.) Now it feels a bit silly to stress out about things like trying to figure out childcare for Lil' S1 for two days in August, after his camp ends, before we go on vacation. It doesn't seem like a "real" problem. But it is my problem, and as I've said before, my problems have a trait very relevant to me: They're mine. That matters quite a bit.
I've actually been thinking about this a lot lately -- about "having perspective." I've come to the conclusion that it's mostly bullshit. It's just something we tell ourselves or we tell others to try to assuage stress or sadness. But it never really works, because "having perspective" is contrary to how human emotions work. Emotions aren't governed by global, objective laws; they're very much personal and relative. I think I've had a sense that this was the case for a long time, but it really got hammered home listening to last week's episode of the Invisibilia podcast.
The episode is titled "Frame of Reference," and in the show's final segment host Alix Spiegel talks to comedian Hasan Minhaj about growing up with a father who refuses to acknowledge his son's sadness or any other negative feeling. Hasan's father grew up impoverished in India, and so his philosophy is that no matter what happens his son's life in America isn't that bad. Hasan tells a heart-wrenching (but somehow still funny) story about some asshole kids calling him "Osama" after 9/11, and then breaking the windows of his family car, and his dad just kinda shrugging his shoulders and taping up the windows, like, "oh well." Given his dad's background, a few punk kids and some busted windows weren't going to be the cause of some great despair.
As you might expect, this put Hasan in a constant state of internal conflict, because he didn't -- he couldn't -- feel the same way as his dad. To him, being the target of ridicule and vandalism by racist punks really sucked (as it would for most people), and he couldn't help but have negative feelings about it. But then he had his dad constantly telling him, basically, "your life is still good; get over it." So he was essentially guilted into never feeling bad about anything.
It was a very interesting episode; I recommend listening to it (there are some other good segments as well). And the big question comes at the end of it when the host asks -- who's right, whose way of looking at life is better, Hasan's or his dad? Hasan sorta reluctantly comes to the conclusion that his dad's way is better, but I think that's the wrong answer. The correct answer, in my opinion, is that they are both right. Because it depends on one's frame of reference. Relativity is not just a physical law; it's an emotional one as well. So just as two people can precisely measure the duration of the same event and get different times, two people can each have radically different feelings about the same incident and both be valid.
There is a tendency for us to discount the feelings of people who have it "better" than we do. For example, we all scoff when we hear about an athlete who feels "insulted" because he was only offered $10 million a year, instead of the $20 million he thinks he's "worth." But is that right? In his world that might actually be an insult. Is it illegitimate for him to feel this way? To you and, me he looks ridiculous, but to somebody like Hasan's father, you and I look ridiculous worrying about our stupid problems like charter schools and car seats and leaky faucets and undermining coworkers. And to somebody with a terminal illness everybody's issues seem trivial. So who actually has a right to feel insulted or sad or upset? Nobody but the person in the worst situation in human history? That clearly isn't right. But then where do you draw the line? Just above yourself? I think it's better just to say everybody's feelings are equally valid.
Now, to be clear, I'm not saying that society's responses to people's problems have to be (or should be) the same. Obviously we should be more inclined to ensure the working poor get a living wage than we should be to ensure underpaid athletes get their additional $10 million a year. Sometimes the correct response is a new policy, sometimes people just need to suck it up. But this doesn't mean that the former's feelings are any more authentic than the latter's. A human is a human is a human -- and all humans have the right to feel slighted or sad or stressed, no matter how silly it might seem to others.
In other news, the chaos at our house is rapidly increasing as Lil' S2 becomes more and more mobile. He can't quite walk yet, but he can book it crawling and like his brother he's a good climber. The other day I was in the kitchen making breakfast, and I turned my back on him for about thirty seconds, when I turned back, I found him like this:
It's a good thing the toaster wasn't on.
I fear that Lil' S1 is already becoming the bully older brother, and I'm not sure how to stop it. He takes his little brother's pacifier from him; he tips him over when he's in the car seat; and he just generally treats him roughly. We're constantly telling him to be nice and gentle, and he does, for about five minutes, and then he goes right back to tormenting him. What can you do? The compounding factor is that often they do coexist nicely together, and sometimes when Lil' S1 does something to Lil' S2, like tackles him, or something, Lil' S2 loves it and starts laughing. That really undermines our pleas to be gentle.
"See! He likes it!" Lil' S1 tells us.
"Yeah, he does," I reply, "but he's not going to like it in 30 seconds when you take it too far."
But somehow that message doesn't really register.
Anyway, one thing they're good for is waking each other up. If one of them is sleeping in too late, I'll take the other one and put him on the bed. He'll wake up his brother, and they will start playing together. It's actually really cute. So they have their moments, you know, typical brothers, I suppose.
Well, that's about it. Until next time...
I've actually been thinking about this a lot lately -- about "having perspective." I've come to the conclusion that it's mostly bullshit. It's just something we tell ourselves or we tell others to try to assuage stress or sadness. But it never really works, because "having perspective" is contrary to how human emotions work. Emotions aren't governed by global, objective laws; they're very much personal and relative. I think I've had a sense that this was the case for a long time, but it really got hammered home listening to last week's episode of the Invisibilia podcast.
The episode is titled "Frame of Reference," and in the show's final segment host Alix Spiegel talks to comedian Hasan Minhaj about growing up with a father who refuses to acknowledge his son's sadness or any other negative feeling. Hasan's father grew up impoverished in India, and so his philosophy is that no matter what happens his son's life in America isn't that bad. Hasan tells a heart-wrenching (but somehow still funny) story about some asshole kids calling him "Osama" after 9/11, and then breaking the windows of his family car, and his dad just kinda shrugging his shoulders and taping up the windows, like, "oh well." Given his dad's background, a few punk kids and some busted windows weren't going to be the cause of some great despair.
As you might expect, this put Hasan in a constant state of internal conflict, because he didn't -- he couldn't -- feel the same way as his dad. To him, being the target of ridicule and vandalism by racist punks really sucked (as it would for most people), and he couldn't help but have negative feelings about it. But then he had his dad constantly telling him, basically, "your life is still good; get over it." So he was essentially guilted into never feeling bad about anything.
It was a very interesting episode; I recommend listening to it (there are some other good segments as well). And the big question comes at the end of it when the host asks -- who's right, whose way of looking at life is better, Hasan's or his dad? Hasan sorta reluctantly comes to the conclusion that his dad's way is better, but I think that's the wrong answer. The correct answer, in my opinion, is that they are both right. Because it depends on one's frame of reference. Relativity is not just a physical law; it's an emotional one as well. So just as two people can precisely measure the duration of the same event and get different times, two people can each have radically different feelings about the same incident and both be valid.
Now, to be clear, I'm not saying that society's responses to people's problems have to be (or should be) the same. Obviously we should be more inclined to ensure the working poor get a living wage than we should be to ensure underpaid athletes get their additional $10 million a year. Sometimes the correct response is a new policy, sometimes people just need to suck it up. But this doesn't mean that the former's feelings are any more authentic than the latter's. A human is a human is a human -- and all humans have the right to feel slighted or sad or stressed, no matter how silly it might seem to others.
In other news, the chaos at our house is rapidly increasing as Lil' S2 becomes more and more mobile. He can't quite walk yet, but he can book it crawling and like his brother he's a good climber. The other day I was in the kitchen making breakfast, and I turned my back on him for about thirty seconds, when I turned back, I found him like this:
It's a good thing the toaster wasn't on.
I fear that Lil' S1 is already becoming the bully older brother, and I'm not sure how to stop it. He takes his little brother's pacifier from him; he tips him over when he's in the car seat; and he just generally treats him roughly. We're constantly telling him to be nice and gentle, and he does, for about five minutes, and then he goes right back to tormenting him. What can you do? The compounding factor is that often they do coexist nicely together, and sometimes when Lil' S1 does something to Lil' S2, like tackles him, or something, Lil' S2 loves it and starts laughing. That really undermines our pleas to be gentle.
"See! He likes it!" Lil' S1 tells us.
"Yeah, he does," I reply, "but he's not going to like it in 30 seconds when you take it too far."
But somehow that message doesn't really register.
Anyway, one thing they're good for is waking each other up. If one of them is sleeping in too late, I'll take the other one and put him on the bed. He'll wake up his brother, and they will start playing together. It's actually really cute. So they have their moments, you know, typical brothers, I suppose.
Well, that's about it. Until next time...
This post is compelling because I have recently come to the conclusion my tendency to compare my hardships to those of others, like Hasan's dad, has caused me anxiety and depression more often than it has comforted me. For example, after the birth of G I struggled with crazy hormones and wicked insomnia. There were also a few life events in his first 6 months that were quite stressful, but I minimized them thinking how lucky I was to have 2 healthy sons, an amazing marriage, a roof over my head, adequate food and water, endless support, etc etc. Basically I was comparing my life to that of a woman living in Rwanda so what did I have to complain about? But looking back I realize comparing my stress to someone (much) less fortunate made me more stressed because than I was stressed I was stressed. The past several months I've been working on acknowledging and accepting (owning) my negative thoughts and emotions *without judgment* and I'm finding that in doing so I'm able to work through them more quickly and easily than I do when I fight them or beat myself up for having them in the first place. Validation is everything. (And, yes, sometimes you just have to get over it because, you know, you don't have a terminal illness.)
ReplyDeleteAnd good luck with the brothers taking it too far thing. You and A did that for YEARS!
ReplyDeleteYep, now I'm getting my comeuppance :)
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