girl-ish
By Jessica Tincher of Rose Colored Glasses Thanks, sassy fortune cookie. I have had a lot of jobs in my day, and probably half of them were unpaid internships. The oddest internship that was ever offered to me was a summer research job studying cranberries with my Sri Lankan Plants, Soils and People professor… I respectfully declined. The runner-up for oddest internship that I was ever offered was for a ‘comparative cognition’ psychology lab that my super cool Brain and Behavior professor worked in, and I actually took that one. To translate, the lab researched the way that dogs process information so that it can be compared to humans. Further translation, they play games on a computer to get treats. I’m NOT an animal person. At all. So taking that internship was a real testament both to how cool that professor was, and how badly I wanted a letter of recommendation for graduate school. [There is a reason that I am telling you all of this, there is. And it has to do with breakups, promise]. From this quirky little internship I picked up a catch-phrase that has stayed with me and greatly influenced both my interpersonal interactions and style as a therapist. It is what I was taught to say to dogs when they made an incorrect choice on their computer game, therefore passing up an opportunity for a treat. The phrase? THAT IS UNFORTUNATE. Such a simple phrase with so many connotations:
It’s out of my hands. The outcome cannot be adjusted. I understand that it’s less than ideal. I will not apologize, because I am not at fault. You may be at fault, but I’m not going to try to blame/shame you. This conversation does not need to be egged on. I spread the gospel of “that is unfortunate.” A great real life work example: Angry mother calls scholarship office and complains that one of her sons was offered X amount of scholarship dollars, and the other was offered Y. If we do not offer both sons X dollars, they will have to go to some other college where they are offered X, Y and Z dollars (disregarding that tuition at other school is like 1,000,0000 times higher). Me: “That’s unfortunate.” Simple. Effective. Perfect. Use it!!! I have always said that I would never want to be a marriage and family counselor for the simple fact that relationships can make an otherwise completely sane person become completely crazy. Am I right? I only know it because I live it, too. You fall in love, logic and reason go out the window. One classic therapist move is to take your personal life and make it feel impersonal by pretending to be your own client. For instance, if I were seeing a client who was in a three year relationship, had been very happy, but was pretty suddenly dumped by their significant other who proceeded to run away and was never seen or heard from again, I think I would pretty instantly come to the conclusion that their former partner was probably not God’s best for them. It took me 6 painstaking months to see that in my own life though... this trained master of feelings is just as susceptible to being crippled by them as the next girl. When it comes down to it, as much as I loved him and as good as I thought he was at loving me before he left, he left. Without looking back. I don’t know what God’s best for me is, but I would predict that it will be someone who doesn’t want to run away from great things, but run towards them. And you know, with me. Last Sunday I woke up feeling particularly chipper as I was not hungover when I totally should have been, and finally had my “that’s unfortunate” breakup epiphany. He’s not the one. I really believed he was. That is unfortunate. The person I loved the most decided to never speak to me again. That is unfortunate. It wasn’t mutual. That is unfortunate. I wish I understood why he ended it. That is unfortunate. Even though I’m so over it, even though he can’t be the best there is for me, I’m sure there will still be numerous days when I miss him. That is unfortunate. I probably haven’t actually (and for you, that may be unfortunate-- ha!), but for now I think everything I have to say has been said. All of the tears I am comfortable with giving to this chapter have been cried (and then some). ‘They’ (whoever they are) say you are supposed to take half of the length of the relationship to mourn it once you break up, but I don’t have a year and a half to cry. Who does? Six months was plenty. Instead of continuing my attempts at adding an ellipsis at the end of a relationship that needs a period, I think I’ll just try to move on. It doesn’t feel so unfortunate...
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Categories
All
Archives
May 2015
|