Truth be told, I am an extremist. I always have been. If I were to attend a support group, my introduction would go something like this: “Hello, my name is Jamie and I’m an extremist.” Group response: “Hi Jamie!” I often find myself saying things like, “I just want to move to a remote corner of the world with my family and hunt and grow my own food and never have to deal with people again.” To be fair, typically when I say things like this it is under a stress induced spell, but nevertheless, I say things like this.
Some of the time my extreme thoughts stay nicely condensed in the space between my ears, but more often than not, something crazy will roll off my tongue and pass through my lips and all of a sudden I hear it outside of me. Such was the case one recent morning when I finally realized what I’ve secretly always known, but didn’t want to admit. It was the morning, when I declared to myself, “I wish life were simple. I wish I were Amish” that I realized – Oprah light bulb moment here – that I AM extreme.
I can’t tell you why I say and think things like that. It’s not like I’m some kind of single cell protozoa that when poked by the stresses of life has no choice but to wiggle out an extreme thought. I am a free thinking human being. I have a brain (although some have questioned this) and can decide what thoughts pop up or don’t pop up, right? But instead, when the thought pops up, I let it wiggle out. I capture it, examine it, dissect it and then tuck it back into the neuron where it came from. I guess I stick it back in there in order to use it again someday. It’s almost as if my brain is, and I’m being extreme here, a wild thought refuge center.
I know people who don’t have this problem. Side note: When you know people who don’t do things they way you do (and love to tell you about it) then you naturally assume you are the defunct one. So when I say, “problem,” I am assuming that being unusual is a problem. So, as I was saying….
I know people who live their entire lives with nothing but well formed thoughts and ideas. In conversation they speak linearly, not in the spirally circles that I speak in. The ironic thing is, I desire to speak linearly, but have some sort of mental block that keeps me from such logical communication.
My communication style (if I can be so debonair as to call it a style) reminds me of when I turn my daughter loose in the toy department of our favorite discount store. She frenetically bounces about from aisle to aisle declaring what she wants, which is typically some pink, shiny, glittering icon of commercialism. “Look mom! Look at this! Look at that!” She has to touch and examine many toys before deciding on one. To clarify, she typically goes to the toy department with one toy on her mind, but while there she gets caught up in the wonder of all of the other merchandise. Eventually we go home with the toy she came for.
In other words, I am generally focused when I approach a topic of conversation. Then the other free thinking human being(s) I am interacting with will say something that sparks a rabbit trail in my imagination. It happens frequently and frequently I get caught.
Here is an example of that kind of external dialog:
Friend: “Can you believe that?”
Me: “Um...no. I can’t believe that! That’s awful.”
Meanwhile, here is my inner Dialog:
“Ok, so she lost me somewhere at menstrual cramps. I don’t know what I’m agreeing with, but at least I sound sympathetic.”
Then the external dialog continues:
Friend: “Did you hear what I said? I said that the new team lead favors me and is utilizing my skills on a new project and there’s even talk about promotion. Can you believe that?”
Me: (blushing) “OH! Did I say, ‘I can’t believe that? That’s awful?’ I meant. Congratulations! You deserve it.”
I have to throw out a disclaimer at this point. It is never my intention to be inconsiderate of my fellow communicator. I don’t check out in every conversation – just the extremely boring ones.
Did I mention I’m married to an accountant? All jokes aside, he is probably the most interesting accountant I’ve ever met (out of both of them). He uses humor sparingly; but effectively. He is charming. He is also a linear thinker, and speaker. When I am regaling him a story or the account of my day, I can see the disconnect in his eyes. I can almost hear his inner dialog: “She’s never going to get to the point, is she?” Of course not; I’m speaking in circles. I may not ever descend on the point, but I will come back around to where I began. At that time, it is best just to cut me off. Fortunately, out of sweet spousal consideration, he doesn’t cut me off…..much.
Back to being Amish: The morning I uttered those desperate words of escapism, I was dealing with a lot of stress associated with busyness. All I really wanted was a simpler, calmer life. Which begs the question, is the Amish life simpler and calmer? Considering I don’t have to get up at 4 a.m. to bake cinnamon rolls for the towns’ people or wring the neck of a sweet defenseless chicken that I raised, I’d definitely have to say that lifestyle is not simpler. Calmer? Maybe. So, within seconds of proclaiming my desire for the simple life, I came to the conclusion that I am too high maintenance to be of that religious persuasion. And that’s when I realized I had just uttered a lie. So I repented. I do not wish I were Amish. I do, however, wish I were stranded somewhere on an uncharted island all by myself. And it begins again…..
No comments:
Post a Comment