My Damn Opinion (Blog #316) - Me and My Therapist

Leave a comment February 9, 2018 CoCo

This afternoon I dragged myself out of the house and went to a local bookstore/coffee shop, to work. For about three hours I poured caffeine down my throat (my heart is still pounding) and worked on marketing strategy for the swing dance event I’m now associated with. This project could take up every spare minute of my time if I let it, so I’m trying to set limits–boundaries!–for myself. To this end, after making a dozen social media posts, writing a promotional piece about one of the staff, and outlining the details for an upcoming email campaign, I thought, That’s enough for today and shut my laptop.

Leaving my man bag in the room where I was working, I explored the rest of the shop. Y’all, I could spend days in almost any bookstore–perusing, smelling–even if I don’t buy anything. Anyway, after forty-five minutes of looking around, I returned empty-handed to grab my bag and head out–like a caveman–in search of dinner. (Me hungry. Where buffalo?) Well, I started talking to a stranger. More accurately, a stranger started talking to me. At first it was a pleasant back-and-forth, like, “Here’s what I enjoy reading. What do YOU enjoy reading?” But then things quickly became one-sided. They were talking my ear off.

Perhaps this has happened to you.

Hold it right there.

Praise God and all the saints, their phone rang. Now’s my chance, I thought. I said, “Have a wonderful evening,” and started walking. But wouldn’t you know it, they got off their phone quicker than a frog gets off its lily pad. The next thing I knew they’d called me back over–reeled me in like some sort of fish–by asking my name. (Damn vanity gets me every time.) Of course, they began chatting again. As it turned out, we actually had several things in common, and I thought, I like this person. Maybe God brought us together. Fifteen minutes later, the shop owner was locking doors and turning off lights, and the person was still talking. They later admitted that their blood sugar was dropping, that they were getting “loopy.” My internal response: “Drink your juice, Shelby!” (That’s a quote from Steel Magnolias, Mom.) I kept thinking, How would my therapist get out of this?

I intend to ask her.

Situations like these really do stump me. For all the progress I’ve made on good boundaries, I still have a tough time drawing a line in the sand with “conversation hijackers.” It’s really difficult for me to interrupt someone and say, “Hold it right there. You’re wearing me out.” I have so much practice being “nice.” If you have any suggestions for being both kind and firm with “ramblers,” please leave them in the comments below. (The suggestions, not the ramblers.) In tonight’s situation, I did find an opportunity to say, “I have to go,” to which the person replied, “I’m so sorry.” This was actually their second apology for taking up my time, which tells me that they realized as much as I did that the conversation had become one-sided and unbalanced. Apparently neither of us knew how to stop it.

God bless.

This evening I finished reading two books. The first, Hug Your Customer by Jack Mitchell, I can’t recommend enough, especially if you’re at all interested in customer service and business marketing. The second, The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr, I can’t recommend (period). I didn’t think it was bad–I found a lot of jewels inside–but it didn’t grip me the way I hoped it would. (Damn expectations.) Karr teaches writing, and mostly I felt as if I were in one of her university classes. She used dozens of dozens of examples from famous memoirs, all of which I’ve never read or heard of before and therefore didn’t connect with. Also, she spoke a lot of poetry, which would’ve been fine had the book been called The Art of Poetry instead of The Art of Memoir. These criticisms aside, I loved the parts of the book in which Karr spoke of her own life, her own experiences and memories. I’ve never read any of her other works, but I adore her authentic voice and think we’d hit it off were we to ever have brunch together.

Gay guys like brunch, Mom. (I don’t know if Mary Karr likes brunch or not. You’d have to ask her.)

Okay, one more beef about The Art of Memoir. At the back of the book, Karr lists some of her favorite memoirs, which, I guess, is both normal and to be expected. But Karr’s list of memoirs boggles the mind at–approximately–200 books. (200!) Maybe you don’t see this as a problem, but Karr labels the list, “Required Reading.” REQUIRED! As in, “You have to–or else.” Y’all, required is not the right adjective to use with a rule-follower. I looked at that list and thought, I’ve only read five of these books. Talk about stressful. Seriously, how I’ve managed to make it this far in life without having read the other 195, I don’t know.

Required reading. Please. Why not just say, “If you’re getting your PhD in memoir writing or have ten lifetimes to spare and nothing better to do, consider reading these 200 books”?

I hope this post doesn’t come off as overly bitchy. A little bitchy–fine. I’m sure that on more than one occasion I’ve been the person to talk someone else’s ear off. Hell, I write a blog every day (every damn day) about myself. By anyone’s standards, this is a pretty one-sided conversation. Additionally, I’m sure another writer could come in and take me to task on a number of things I do here. For starters, I use the words okay, anyway, whatever, and realize way too often. (I realize this. Whatever.) I have my reasons for doing what I do and imagine Karr has her reasons for doing what she does.

This is major progress.

All this to say that I’m not saying, “I’m right.” What I am saying, however, is, “I’m right–for me.” What I mean is that five years ago I would have let a complete stranger talk to me for hours on end and not have thought a thing about it. I wouldn’t have seen a problem. Likewise, I would have read a book cover-to-cover and assumed every word was gospel because it was printed on nice paper. But now I can recognize when things are out of balance (for me) and when information resonates (with me) and when it doesn’t. This is major progress. As I told my therapist recently, “I’m beginning to have a damn opinion about things.”

Her response: “As well you should. As. Well. You. Should.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

Everything is progressing as it should.