I had a tender experience on the bus today, when I had a lengthy conversation with a 17 year old boy about working at the nursing home I was interviewing at. He was clearly mentally challenged, but he still found a place at this facility to feel like he belonged. He told me it was a great place to work and maybe I will see him later 😛
Today I followed my mom into the basement to look at my old art from elementary school. In my depression, it’s hard to look fondly on the past or even remember it sometimes. I felt a little more connected to my little self today thanks to my precious mom keeping my art.
My husband
is one of those people
who has always put on a brave front
no matter what challenges he faces . . .
he tends to shy away from tenderness
and makes jokes
when I approach him with tenderness.
Age and what feels to him
like a lot of conflict though,
have worn him down a little,
and sometimes
I can slip my foot in the door.
He has tenderness in him . . .
I see it
in how he treats the cats.
I offer my warmth to him
in ways he can accept without embarrassment . . .
helping him to complete a task,
going with him to his doctor’s appointments,
and of course
preparing food that he especially likes.
I wake up often in the night
and stroke his head and neck with kindness,
and I know he feels it
but doesn’t say.
This helps me too,
to dispel my own resentment
that I can’t reach him,
and reminds me
how much I love
the being that he is.
He’s in there,
but I don’t think he knows
how let go of what I call the mask.
Or perhaps he’s scared . . .
afraid of being vulnerable.
We’re all works in progress
and often
it is easier to see the beam in someone else’s eye
and not see the one in our own.
I don’t fault him . . .
I have my own defenses–
my own demons,
and I know how hard it is to make friends with them
and let them go.
I am grateful
that I can at least see them. ♥
Good to read your scribing, dear Sparrow. Last Friday morning Chicken Little came visit me. The sky fell along with any access to the World Wide Web. I am today, able to join with society in this digital age.
Tending to help when needed. Not today but on Saturday my son asked me if I could go let their dogs out and feed them. They were at a halloween event. I gladly helped out 🌞
Tenderness in all encounters. Tenderness often is perceiced as being the sister of kindness, so to say, and this I hope to live with my fellow people not only today and more and more often. Meeting each other in tenderness and kindness.
I would not have realized that it was “tenderness in my life.” I definitely call it pain and discomfort but I like and find helpful the use of “tenderness in my life” in today’s question. About 5 a.m. this morning after many hours of attempting to sleep, I accepted the fact that I needed to turn the alarm off so it would not ring in a couple of hours so I could go to the coffee group I often attend. I knew I would miss the companionship but I also knew my body needed to rest and hopefully sleep-in. Instead of judgement and frustration, I now realize that I bore witness to the “tenderness in my life” and found myself comforting my body, taking a pain pill and accepting that missing coffee group would allow my weary body to rest. I finally slept. Not too many years ago, I would have dragged myself to coffee group no matter what it did to my body. I was not very patient with my body. Apparently, I’m still here, still alive, ’cause I have so much to learn!
I wrote my respond, posted it then read the other posts but this is the third or fourth day, Joseph has not been here. It really concerns me. Joseph if you are reading others comments, WE MISS YOU.
ps. I have always tried to ‘power through’,
dear Carol Ann,
and am now teaching myself
to try a little tenderness
towards me.
I’m happy you did that this morning. ♥
I too,
have concerns about Joseph.
I did not want to be an alarmist,
but it’s not like him,
dear Carol Ann.
Indeed,
dear Joseph,
we miss you
and hope that all is well. ((( ♥ )))
I will have to think about this, as I go through my day, today.
Maybe I’m just not that in touch with my tenderness. Maybe I just have to think about this differently. Or maybe use a different word. Maybe I have steeled myself against tenderness and it has become unavailable to me. Thinking about how I spend my mornings planning and filling up my day. I wonder how much of this is just to avoid the tender stuff below the surface.
Certainly there is tenderness shared with my wife. And I am tender and caring with my cats. But mostly I walk around in a sort of protective shell. A shell of cheerfulness and humor and irony and busyness.
I will be on the lookout for tenderness, as it exists in my life.
Remains to be seen. I think of tenderness with its multiple meanings. This could be a tender spot that needs care and gentleness, whether it’s an emotional spot or a physical one on a body or in the world. It could be I or someone else sharing tenderness with someone or some thing, stopping to pay attention to that tender moment.
I have a tiny, tiny plant my older daughter gave to me, a mother of thousands, that’s only four or five leaves in an eensy teensy clay pot she carefully (tenderly) packaged so I could bring it home on a recent flight. I think tender thoughts each time I look at it in the kitchen windowsill, bearing witness to its future growth and to my daughter’s love for me.
I was unusually open and vulnerable with others this weekend. It was safe and supportive. This morning, however, I felt like a trap door snapped shut inside of me, a reflexive reaction to being so open. I want to talk myself out of closing off, but truth is, this reflex has very good historical reasons for existing. So, I can be tender with myself as I witness myself wanting to push others away.
My worry over my son and his education worries. It’s early in the semester but he’s struggling with a class that is important in his program. He lets the worry take over. I hope I can be a source of tenderness and understanding.
I hope your son can get into the flow of the topic soon. I remember getting copious tutoring help in college with some classes, and ended up doing really well. I guess the way the prof explained things wouldn’t stick, but the extra perspective from others did.
My 2 best friends of over 50 years are coming for a visit this weekend. We know each others’ dark sides and missteps from forever. And yet, my need to present my home as not only a place of hospitality, but as a place comparable to theirs (which it can never be) keeps gnawing at me. I have worked all weekend and have plans for all week on just how to make my house not only clean and comfortable, but acceptable and “praiseworthy”. Why am I doing this?! I need to ease up on myself and know this is not why they are coming for a visit.
I wonder what would happen if you opened up this tender vulnerability to them and talked about it. “I stressed out about the house and making it nice for you. Some of that is wanting to be a good host, but some of it comes from a place of being conditioned by media and society to believe things have to be a certain way.” (Sidebar: Especially for women!)
Your guests are there for you. They will feel more comfortable if they feel you are comfortable. I love the idea of scruffy clean that Drea talks about. I too feel weird in a home that presents too perfect. This is your HOME not a hotel.
I think it was Barb who told me about the idea of “scruffy clean” when I was stressing about guests a while back. It went something like–your friends are there for you, they don’t care nearly as much about your house as you do, and scruffy clean and full of love is enough. (I will add that perfect houses that are better than everyone else’s scare me.)
Yes! Scruffy housekeeping came to mind again as I read Katrina’s post. I definitely want to “make things nice” when people are coming over and I understand the desire to put your best foot forward. Taking that old phrase literally, though, we only have the feet we have! We can’t go out and get better feet just because we have company coming.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on my struggle to find a true sense of belonging in my home, even after living here for six years. I have a deep longing for a pet to provide emotional comfort, but I face a conflict because my family doesn’t share this desire. I find myself hesitating about moving out just for this reason, wondering if I have the readiness to care for an animal on my own. In the meantime, I’m learning to be gentle with myself and find ways to regulate my frustration and disappointment, like pausing to listen to gentle music or engaging in my hobbies.
This is a hard one for me,
dear Ngoc.
Having an animal companion
comes with the territory
if someone chooses to love me . . .
no question
no doubt.
I know how much it has meant to me
to have the affection of an animal,
I would not give it up for anything . . .
but everyone
has to manage their own circumstances
and do what is best for them.
I am with you in my heart
and pray that a solution will find its way to you . . .
be patient. ♥
I think the beauty and challenges of long term relationships. My husband is the most important relationship in my life. I love waking up to a new day with him. And yet, now and again I find myself judging him regarding his choices for his life. Like it is my life, not his!😂 I want to give myself a little grace, realize the normalcy of this, and let it go. Be tender with him and myself. 🍁
Oh, I relate to this. I’m sure everything would be so much easier for my husband if he just thought like me! And then he wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with, including the qualities that I think sometimes make life harder for him than it has to be.
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I had a tender experience on the bus today, when I had a lengthy conversation with a 17 year old boy about working at the nursing home I was interviewing at. He was clearly mentally challenged, but he still found a place at this facility to feel like he belonged. He told me it was a great place to work and maybe I will see him later 😛
Today I followed my mom into the basement to look at my old art from elementary school. In my depression, it’s hard to look fondly on the past or even remember it sometimes. I felt a little more connected to my little self today thanks to my precious mom keeping my art.
My husband
is one of those people
who has always put on a brave front
no matter what challenges he faces . . .
he tends to shy away from tenderness
and makes jokes
when I approach him with tenderness.
Age and what feels to him
like a lot of conflict though,
have worn him down a little,
and sometimes
I can slip my foot in the door.
He has tenderness in him . . .
I see it
in how he treats the cats.
I offer my warmth to him
in ways he can accept without embarrassment . . .
helping him to complete a task,
going with him to his doctor’s appointments,
and of course
preparing food that he especially likes.
I wake up often in the night
and stroke his head and neck with kindness,
and I know he feels it
but doesn’t say.
This helps me too,
to dispel my own resentment
that I can’t reach him,
and reminds me
how much I love
the being that he is.
He’s in there,
but I don’t think he knows
how let go of what I call the mask.
Or perhaps he’s scared . . .
afraid of being vulnerable.
We’re all works in progress
and often
it is easier to see the beam in someone else’s eye
and not see the one in our own.
I don’t fault him . . .
I have my own defenses–
my own demons,
and I know how hard it is to make friends with them
and let them go.
I am grateful
that I can at least see them. ♥
Good to read your scribing, dear Sparrow. Last Friday morning Chicken Little came visit me. The sky fell along with any access to the World Wide Web. I am today, able to join with society in this digital age.
Your writing is sweet and tender, Sparrow. Lucky husband!
Tending to help when needed. Not today but on Saturday my son asked me if I could go let their dogs out and feed them. They were at a halloween event. I gladly helped out 🌞
Tenderness in all encounters. Tenderness often is perceiced as being the sister of kindness, so to say, and this I hope to live with my fellow people not only today and more and more often. Meeting each other in tenderness and kindness.
I would not have realized that it was “tenderness in my life.” I definitely call it pain and discomfort but I like and find helpful the use of “tenderness in my life” in today’s question. About 5 a.m. this morning after many hours of attempting to sleep, I accepted the fact that I needed to turn the alarm off so it would not ring in a couple of hours so I could go to the coffee group I often attend. I knew I would miss the companionship but I also knew my body needed to rest and hopefully sleep-in. Instead of judgement and frustration, I now realize that I bore witness to the “tenderness in my life” and found myself comforting my body, taking a pain pill and accepting that missing coffee group would allow my weary body to rest. I finally slept. Not too many years ago, I would have dragged myself to coffee group no matter what it did to my body. I was not very patient with my body. Apparently, I’m still here, still alive, ’cause I have so much to learn!
I wrote my respond, posted it then read the other posts but this is the third or fourth day, Joseph has not been here. It really concerns me. Joseph if you are reading others comments, WE MISS YOU.
Hope you are feeling nice and refreshed today, Carol. I miss Joseph too.
While I didn’t post yesterday, I have also noticed Joseph’s absence. I hope all is well for him.
I hope Joseph is ok too.
ps. I have always tried to ‘power through’,
dear Carol Ann,
and am now teaching myself
to try a little tenderness
towards me.
I’m happy you did that this morning. ♥
I too,
have concerns about Joseph.
I did not want to be an alarmist,
but it’s not like him,
dear Carol Ann.
Indeed,
dear Joseph,
we miss you
and hope that all is well. ((( ♥ )))
I had the same concern, Carol Anne.🍁
I will have to think about this, as I go through my day, today.
Maybe I’m just not that in touch with my tenderness. Maybe I just have to think about this differently. Or maybe use a different word. Maybe I have steeled myself against tenderness and it has become unavailable to me. Thinking about how I spend my mornings planning and filling up my day. I wonder how much of this is just to avoid the tender stuff below the surface.
Certainly there is tenderness shared with my wife. And I am tender and caring with my cats. But mostly I walk around in a sort of protective shell. A shell of cheerfulness and humor and irony and busyness.
I will be on the lookout for tenderness, as it exists in my life.
Charlie, the word “tenderness” threw me, too.
Remains to be seen. I think of tenderness with its multiple meanings. This could be a tender spot that needs care and gentleness, whether it’s an emotional spot or a physical one on a body or in the world. It could be I or someone else sharing tenderness with someone or some thing, stopping to pay attention to that tender moment.
I have a tiny, tiny plant my older daughter gave to me, a mother of thousands, that’s only four or five leaves in an eensy teensy clay pot she carefully (tenderly) packaged so I could bring it home on a recent flight. I think tender thoughts each time I look at it in the kitchen windowsill, bearing witness to its future growth and to my daughter’s love for me.
I was unusually open and vulnerable with others this weekend. It was safe and supportive. This morning, however, I felt like a trap door snapped shut inside of me, a reflexive reaction to being so open. I want to talk myself out of closing off, but truth is, this reflex has very good historical reasons for existing. So, I can be tender with myself as I witness myself wanting to push others away.
I identify, Drea.
Drea be tender with yourself and give yourself some space . This is self care too. Hugs
My worry over my son and his education worries. It’s early in the semester but he’s struggling with a class that is important in his program. He lets the worry take over. I hope I can be a source of tenderness and understanding.
I hope your son can get into the flow of the topic soon. I remember getting copious tutoring help in college with some classes, and ended up doing really well. I guess the way the prof explained things wouldn’t stick, but the extra perspective from others did.
I feel very overwhelmed by the many activities of the week. My tenderness will be in remembering what I say to others…stay in this day.
My 2 best friends of over 50 years are coming for a visit this weekend. We know each others’ dark sides and missteps from forever. And yet, my need to present my home as not only a place of hospitality, but as a place comparable to theirs (which it can never be) keeps gnawing at me. I have worked all weekend and have plans for all week on just how to make my house not only clean and comfortable, but acceptable and “praiseworthy”. Why am I doing this?! I need to ease up on myself and know this is not why they are coming for a visit.
Sadly,
dear Katrina,
my housework suffers in the summer time,
as I’m out in the garden
tending my plants,
so the house gets quite scruffy.
I join you in your anxiety,
and hopefully your healing
from this artificial compulsion. ♥
Katrina, May you apply a little tenderness to yourself and be present and rested when your friends arrive.
I wonder what would happen if you opened up this tender vulnerability to them and talked about it. “I stressed out about the house and making it nice for you. Some of that is wanting to be a good host, but some of it comes from a place of being conditioned by media and society to believe things have to be a certain way.” (Sidebar: Especially for women!)
Your guests are there for you. They will feel more comfortable if they feel you are comfortable. I love the idea of scruffy clean that Drea talks about. I too feel weird in a home that presents too perfect. This is your HOME not a hotel.
I think it was Barb who told me about the idea of “scruffy clean” when I was stressing about guests a while back. It went something like–your friends are there for you, they don’t care nearly as much about your house as you do, and scruffy clean and full of love is enough. (I will add that perfect houses that are better than everyone else’s scare me.)
Yes! Scruffy housekeeping came to mind again as I read Katrina’s post. I definitely want to “make things nice” when people are coming over and I understand the desire to put your best foot forward. Taking that old phrase literally, though, we only have the feet we have! We can’t go out and get better feet just because we have company coming.
Listening to a tired body that needs extra sleep, hot tea, and fluids to avoid what feels like an oncoming cold.. Happy Monday to all. ☮️
I hope you start to feel better soon Carla. 🤗
I hope you are able
to skip the worst of the cold,
dear Carla . . .
do be tender with yourself. ♥
Wishing you rest and good care and softness with yourself and possibly tenderly offered by others also. Blessings.
It is so important to listen to our bodies and not our monkey minds!
Hope you can dodge the worst of a cold, Carla.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on my struggle to find a true sense of belonging in my home, even after living here for six years. I have a deep longing for a pet to provide emotional comfort, but I face a conflict because my family doesn’t share this desire. I find myself hesitating about moving out just for this reason, wondering if I have the readiness to care for an animal on my own. In the meantime, I’m learning to be gentle with myself and find ways to regulate my frustration and disappointment, like pausing to listen to gentle music or engaging in my hobbies.
NGOC, I hear you.
This is a hard one for me,
dear Ngoc.
Having an animal companion
comes with the territory
if someone chooses to love me . . .
no question
no doubt.
I know how much it has meant to me
to have the affection of an animal,
I would not give it up for anything . . .
but everyone
has to manage their own circumstances
and do what is best for them.
I am with you in my heart
and pray that a solution will find its way to you . . .
be patient. ♥
I think the beauty and challenges of long term relationships. My husband is the most important relationship in my life. I love waking up to a new day with him. And yet, now and again I find myself judging him regarding his choices for his life. Like it is my life, not his!😂 I want to give myself a little grace, realize the normalcy of this, and let it go. Be tender with him and myself. 🍁
Who said
that being in a loving relationship
was easy? 🙂
Oh, I relate to this. I’m sure everything would be so much easier for my husband if he just thought like me! And then he wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with, including the qualities that I think sometimes make life harder for him than it has to be.
Exactly, Barb. I appreciate your understanding. 🧡
I am with both of you!
😉