My young adult daughter and I have been reading your Dignity of Dependence book and discussing it. It's really thought provoking, thanks!
It's been liberating to acknowledge that we are all dependent on each other, just more or less at various times in our lives - and that the image of independence as as attainable ideal is pretty much fiction.
Personally, I've gone from considering myself a high energy, competent woman with a physically active job to someone with a chronic spine condition that, while not entirely immobilizing, will likely always limit my physical activity and/or result in surgery with uncertain results.
I'm so thankful for my Catholic faith in the goodness of God, and the knowledge that my value doesn't rest in how much I can physically do. Still hard though :)
I like the idea of graciously acknowledging a gift. Too often we just don't know how to receive a gift—we're too embarrassed to acknowledge someone else's sacrifice, and we're sometimes afraid of being in someone else's debt (especially if we don't trust the other person!).
Perhaps we can try to say, instead of, "You are not a burden," rather, "You are worth it." (I do like the response, "It's my pleasure," as well.)
When I was very young, I think I was already sensing some of these themes but couldn't articulate them—except for a little story I wrote that I titled "Give Me Back My Burden." I ended up changing it to "Lift My Burden," because my test audience (my family) thought the original didn't make sense. And I didn't know how to explain. Now, I think I could.
My wife and I have coined the term "overly solicitous" to describe an almost pathological urge to avoid being an imposition among my parents and siblings. Or to avoid being a burden, you might say. We have a strongly inculcated sense that it's burdensome to ask for what one wants or needs; to invite oneself over or drop by; to express too strong a preference. Which leads to a sometimes infuriating dance of deference, where instead of saying what we want, we try to guess what each other wants. Knowing that, we then interpret a suggestion or invitation as "I'm guessing you might like this, so I'm willing to burden myself by offering it." rather than "I want this, please help." It's like a hall of mirrors.
One example is: My wife homeschools our two sons, currently 7 and 4. The 7-year-old is homeschooled due to neurological and behavioral challenges that couldn't be met in school. So my wife spends a lot of time arranging outings and field trips for him, and frequently invites my retired parents along -- to the zoo, the aquarium, the science center, the museum of flight, the beach, the playground. They decline about 75% of the time, usually with some form of "that's very generous/kind/thoughtful of you to try to include us" as if she's making a sacrifice or extending herself to make it happen. No! She's partially doing it as a request for help! Two active little kids zooming around a zoo or museum can be a handful. They want to see different exhibits. Maybe one needs a bathroom break. Maybe one has scraped his knee. It's just easier and less stressful, and more rewarding and fun for the boys, if one or both of their grandparents come along.
Another example: My mom had to go to the ER last month. My dad took her, and they had the usual marathon of waiting for a room, then waiting to be seen, then a debate about admitting her overnight. After work and once my wife had started our kids' bedtime, I offered to drop in on them and bring some snacks and drinks. They said no. For the first time I can remember in decades, I directly disobeyed them and went and found them in the ED with the snacks I had bought. My mom was exhausted. My dad was frazzled and at his wit's end. I told him to get some fresh air on a walk while we waited for the attending to circle back and explain their choices. He looked more human when he returned, after 11 hours cooped up in windowless hospital wards. They listened more calmly to the doctor and made the (right, I think) decision to have her admitted, which proceeded quickly and then everyone got some sleep. I returned the next day at lunch with flowers and some reading recommendations. Both my parents said I'd done the right thing and thanked me for coming; that they just hadn't been able to think straight and their knee-jerk instinct to avoid being a burden on me had led them to decline my offer of help.
My young adult daughter and I have been reading your Dignity of Dependence book and discussing it. It's really thought provoking, thanks!
It's been liberating to acknowledge that we are all dependent on each other, just more or less at various times in our lives - and that the image of independence as as attainable ideal is pretty much fiction.
Personally, I've gone from considering myself a high energy, competent woman with a physically active job to someone with a chronic spine condition that, while not entirely immobilizing, will likely always limit my physical activity and/or result in surgery with uncertain results.
I'm so thankful for my Catholic faith in the goodness of God, and the knowledge that my value doesn't rest in how much I can physically do. Still hard though :)
I like the idea of graciously acknowledging a gift. Too often we just don't know how to receive a gift—we're too embarrassed to acknowledge someone else's sacrifice, and we're sometimes afraid of being in someone else's debt (especially if we don't trust the other person!).
Perhaps we can try to say, instead of, "You are not a burden," rather, "You are worth it." (I do like the response, "It's my pleasure," as well.)
When I was very young, I think I was already sensing some of these themes but couldn't articulate them—except for a little story I wrote that I titled "Give Me Back My Burden." I ended up changing it to "Lift My Burden," because my test audience (my family) thought the original didn't make sense. And I didn't know how to explain. Now, I think I could.
My wife and I have coined the term "overly solicitous" to describe an almost pathological urge to avoid being an imposition among my parents and siblings. Or to avoid being a burden, you might say. We have a strongly inculcated sense that it's burdensome to ask for what one wants or needs; to invite oneself over or drop by; to express too strong a preference. Which leads to a sometimes infuriating dance of deference, where instead of saying what we want, we try to guess what each other wants. Knowing that, we then interpret a suggestion or invitation as "I'm guessing you might like this, so I'm willing to burden myself by offering it." rather than "I want this, please help." It's like a hall of mirrors.
One example is: My wife homeschools our two sons, currently 7 and 4. The 7-year-old is homeschooled due to neurological and behavioral challenges that couldn't be met in school. So my wife spends a lot of time arranging outings and field trips for him, and frequently invites my retired parents along -- to the zoo, the aquarium, the science center, the museum of flight, the beach, the playground. They decline about 75% of the time, usually with some form of "that's very generous/kind/thoughtful of you to try to include us" as if she's making a sacrifice or extending herself to make it happen. No! She's partially doing it as a request for help! Two active little kids zooming around a zoo or museum can be a handful. They want to see different exhibits. Maybe one needs a bathroom break. Maybe one has scraped his knee. It's just easier and less stressful, and more rewarding and fun for the boys, if one or both of their grandparents come along.
Another example: My mom had to go to the ER last month. My dad took her, and they had the usual marathon of waiting for a room, then waiting to be seen, then a debate about admitting her overnight. After work and once my wife had started our kids' bedtime, I offered to drop in on them and bring some snacks and drinks. They said no. For the first time I can remember in decades, I directly disobeyed them and went and found them in the ED with the snacks I had bought. My mom was exhausted. My dad was frazzled and at his wit's end. I told him to get some fresh air on a walk while we waited for the attending to circle back and explain their choices. He looked more human when he returned, after 11 hours cooped up in windowless hospital wards. They listened more calmly to the doctor and made the (right, I think) decision to have her admitted, which proceeded quickly and then everyone got some sleep. I returned the next day at lunch with flowers and some reading recommendations. Both my parents said I'd done the right thing and thanked me for coming; that they just hadn't been able to think straight and their knee-jerk instinct to avoid being a burden on me had led them to decline my offer of help.
Is your book on sale anywhere?
It's on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/4tVq5BR and you can get a 20% discount directly from Notre Dame Press here with the code "14FF20" https://undpress.nd.edu/9780268210335/the-dignity-of-dependence/
Yay! Thank you so much, Leah. It's been on my list for awhile.