I’m Trying To Do Better

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“And then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk to bloom.” – Anais Nin

In the ten years or so before my dad died, my parents started spending their winters in Tucson. I’d go visit whenever my bones needed drying out, usually in February.

In one of my favorite stories that I tell in my book, on a visit to Tucson three years before my dad died, my mom and I were in the living room and Dad yelled to us from his study, “Isn’t the sunrise beautiful this morning? We are so lucky.”

And Mom yelled back, “Dick, it’s absolutely wonderful!”

I could see my mom wasn’t really paying attention and said to her in a low tone, “It’s okay, Mom, I won’t tell him you didn’t even look.”

Mom replied, “He can’t even see the sunrise from where he’s sitting.”

I love that story because it showcases my dad’s enthusiasm as well as my mom’s delightful ability to go along. But it also reminds me of the flip side of our family. My parents didn’t argue at all when I was growing up. There was no playing Mom off Dad because they were a unified front. Certainly they must have had conflict but they were so good at covering it up or having it out behind closed doors that there was no sign of it in front of the kids.

This is all to say that I suck at communicating hard feelings, and I come by it honestly. It doesn’t help that when I was married, my ex-husband”s response when I told him something I felt or was concerned about that he didn’t want to hear was, “What’s the big deal?”

I’ve worked on this in two ways. First, through meditation, I’m able to better discern what is and isn’t important for me to speak up about and let go of the stuff that isn’t. It’s one of the reasons meditation works for me to irrigate the irritation. Am I irritated because I’m tired, my ego is out of whack, etc.?

And my second way? My children. They provide me a steady flow of boundary-pushing, soul-wearying, things I can’t live with examples that I have to find the words to express. The beautiful thing is that it’s this expansive relationship of love and constancy that’s allowed me to grow into expressing my wounds.

Like last night when Mr. D’s toenail cut into my shin. I said, “ouch.” He said, “Sorry.” I replied, “It’s okay.” And we went on with the night. Such a small thing – but I’m learning the risk the little ones in order to be brave for the big ones.

I adore my dad, as anyone that has read my writing knows. He could manufacture sunshine just like he did that morning in Tucson. His job as a pastor made him very good at carrying everyone else’s hurts. But I’m not sure he ever learned how to express his own.

I’m hoping that I can grow my own willingness to be vulnerable so that I can do that better. I can hear my dad saying to me, “You’ve got this, Kid.”

For more on the topic, please check out my podcast with Dr. Vicki Atkinson about risking disappointment. Please search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast in Apple, Amazon Music, Spotify or Pocket Casts. Or click here for show notes and a link: Episode 42: Risking Disappointment with Vicki and Wynne

(picture is my own)

38 thoughts on “I’m Trying To Do Better”

  2. When I first read this, deeply underslept, I loved it but couldn’t think of anything to write. Then, just now, I had an exchange with one of my kids where getting the ask out was like pulling teeth.

    The exchange with this post stilp fresh in mind? Made me so glad for the related work I’ve done this year … AND clear that I have plenty room yet to grow! In light of this post, I’ll consider this all an opportunity to get my kids earlier on a self-kinder path. Thanks & happy weekend. 🙂

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    1. Oh, I love how you extend this as an opportunity to get our kids to the path earlier. That’s brilliant. And such a great testament to doing our work. Thanks, Deborah! Hope you get some sleep.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Hmm. I like your message, but I do struggle a little with one assumption you seem to be making. My husband (of 56 years) and I don’t argue either, behind closed doors or otherwise. We occasionally discuss feelings or concerns, but that’s not the same as raising voices. Way back when we were first going out, my mother expressed doubts because we never seemed to argue. I hated that my parents argued, but clearly to her it meant things mattered enough. That’s just personality differences. All to say, are you sure your father didn’t know how to express his own hurts? You can do that without arguing. Just saying. 😊

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    1. I love this beautiful snapshot of your marriage that you’ve shared here. Yes, I’m quite sure that my dad didn’t know how because of other family stories. Perhaps I could have bolstered that assumption with a little more story-telling here so thank you for letting me know what stuck out to you. And I love that your beautiful affirmation that you can express hurts without arguing. It’s what I’m aiming for. Thanks, Jane.

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  4. This heartfelt reflection on communication and vulnerability touches the core of human connections. Your story of your parents’ unity, your journey of learning to express your feelings, and the influence of your children’s love are all beautiful reminders of the importance of open and honest communication. Keep embracing the willingness to be vulnerable, and you’ll find strength and connection in your relationships. “You’ve got this, Kid,” indeed.

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  5. Anais said it perfectly. What do they tell you… that when the pain of remaining the same crushes you, you will risk trying something new to alleviate the pain. Seems to have been my story.

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  6. My joy this morning comes from reading the snippet about your dad and HIS daily joy, his exuberance. I understand how your mom couldn’t match all that he was in that regard. He was a force…but her sweet response to him typified the snapshots you shared about their lives together in your book. Truly. The exchange you included here was one of my favorites. Just a few words and one simple interaction observed by you…but it speaks volumes. Still. xo, Wynne! 🥰

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  7. Your parents remind me of my own. Still going strong after 56 years of marriage, and I never once recall seeing or hearing them argue. They were already an old married couple when they first started dating.

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  8. I laughed a little when I read that part in the book. 😏

    Yeah, being real with my feelings – with myself – is hard work! It has also been the difference between continuing an unhealthy way of living and walking a path of recovery. Good on *you* for paying attention to this important area, and drawing our attention to it as well.

    Love the “irrigate the irritation” concept!

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  9. When you talked about sucking at communicating hard feelings because it was never modeled for you, this hit home for me. The only time I ever saw my parents get angry at each other was shortly before they separated. And any time my mother was inappropriately angry at me, she never apologized afterwards, so I spent much of my life stuffing my feelings. Much like your meditation, my healing work has helped so much.

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  10. So interesting that you had a similar experience. Yes, the healing work helps so much, doesn’t it? Get the gunk out instead of letting it drive from underneath the surface. Thanks for the great comment.

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  11. I was lying in bed last night, tossing around thoughts about the upcoming convo that you, Vicki and I plan to have and as is usual, my brain turned on rather than settling for sleep. So much revolved around my new found desire to confront things head on, yet at the same time I kept coming back around to the one thing that still feels open and raw and I think needs to be closed in a more “official” way…my marriage. I see my reinvented self needing an expansive nudge to push the last of the crap out and away. Your post coincidentally (?) is adding to that nudge Wynne 🙂

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    1. Oh, the brain turning on at bedtime. I get that one. So interesting about that unfinished business regarding your marriage. I know what you mean about how it can stay open and raw so I love your push to get crap out and away. Good for you! And I can’t wait for our conversation!

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  12. Sweet and wise on all levels. We change because we need to and want to, taking it on, and , if we face our fears, never stop growing. Your dad was right: “You’ve got this,” Wynne.

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  13. As a repressed child with repressed feelings, I never learned how to state my needs—probably because my one or two first attempts at it were promptly dismissed as unimportant. So I took my wounds and dove deep underground for cover. Those unhealed wounds resulted in two unhappy, failed marriages. Not until I began to understand the depth of buried emotion did the recovery process begin. It has been a l-o-n-g journey back into the light. How blessed you were to have been raised in a family of willing participants in the art of communication! What a gift! These days, when something needs to be said, I think long and hard about how to say it for the best outcome of all. If I get it wrong the first time, I go back to the drawing board and float another plan. Eventually it will work. Is it sometimes uncomfortable? You betcha! Is it worth the effort? Absolutely! Honest communication can be scary—but it’s the key to the foundation of a great relationship, right?

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    1. “Is it sometimes uncomfortable? You betcha! Is it worth the effort? Absolutely! Honest communication can be scary—but it’s the key to the foundation of a great relationship, right?” That is so good, Julia. I love that you are showing me there is a way to keep going – and that I’m not alone with my history of pushing things down. Here’s to this amazing sisterhood of encouragement!! 🙂 ❤

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  14. What a great story about your mom & dad! My wife and I joke that we don’t argue much because we usually know what the other is thinking anyway, so we just skip the actual argument/discussion and just move on to being irritated with each other 😁

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  16. Your parents sounded absolutely wonderful and no wonder you, yourself, are full of warmth.

    We can all do better to irrigate our irritation – I love that phrase – and sounds like you’ve got the right tools (a big tractor from the sounds of it!) to get through the big and small frustrations.

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