Post by Rhonda on Nov 3, 2007 5:04:34 GMT -5
EXPECTATIONS NOTWITHSTANDING
One of Beth's friends is going through trauma right now. Seems her
boyfriend of a month or so has terminated their relationship with a
slick combination of "I'm going through some difficult things in my
life right now," "I'm not worthy of you" and "It's not you, it's me."
In other words, he's got his eye on a hot sophomore. And so there's
weeping, wailing and gnashing of prom pictures at her house and at
ours. And as usual, I'm sort of clueless when it comes to saying or
doing the right thing.
"Well, what did she expect?" I said to Elizabeth when she tried to
explain the situation to me, using short sentences and single-
syllable words, I might add, since I am... you know... male. "They're 16 years old. Romantic relationships between 16-year-olds usually last about as long as an X-Box 360 on the shelf at Wal-Mart."
"I know," Beth said patiently. "I just wish he would have handled it
better."
I rolled my eyes. I know, I know - I shouldn't have done that. But I
couldn't help it. "Now THERE'S a shocker," I said. "Stop the
presses! `Teenage Boy Behaves Badly!'"
Now it was Beth's turn to roll her eyes. "Dad, you're not."
"If you Google the words `emotional immaturity' you'll be directed to 53,000 web sites aimed at teenage boys," I said.
"At Insensitivity.com the webmaster is a 16-year-old boy. Look
up `tactless' in the dictionary and there's probably a picture of Joe Jr. when he was 16."
"Or when he was 25," she interjected.
"Exactly my point! It's the nature of the beast. It takes them years
to outgrow it."
"And some of them never DO," Beth muttered, glancing at me.
"So in a way," I continued, "this was to be expected. Right?"
Beth sighed. "Yes, Dad," she said. "You're right. But..."
"But what? If you expect something to happen and it happens, what's the big deal?
Beth looked out the window for a moment, then tried to explain: "Sometimes even when you expect something to happen, you keep hoping it won't. So the disappointment doesn't have as much to do with expectation as it has to do with hope."
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I don't know," she
said. "Maybe you never had your heart broken when you were younger..."
Immediately my mind flashed back to the last day of sixth grade.
After weeks of trying to marshal my courage, I finally got up the
nerve to ask Cindy if I could walk her home from school. I was hoping for a smile and a heartfelt "Oh yes, I wish you would!" Even a demure nod would have been great. What I got was a look, a shrug and "I don't care." She wasn't rude; she just wasn't as enthusiastic as I hoped she would be. And that broke my 12-year-old heart.
I don't remember what happened after that, exactly. I don't think I
walked her home. I just remember running into my house and downstairs to my room and throwing myself on my bed, sobbing. And I remember my big sister Wanda Lynne coming in and sitting on my bed and rubbing my back. She didn't know what was wrong, but she knew heartbreak when she saw it. So she just sat there and rubbed my back and told me everything was going to be OK.
And eventually it was.
As that memory washed over me, I suddenly understood what Beth was trying to say. While it's true that part of our job as adults is to
bring mature perspective into our relationships with our teens,
sometimes we forget how much it hurts when young hopes and dreams are dashed - expectations notwithstanding - and how much it helps to have someone there with you, rubbing your back and telling you everything is going to be OK.
By Joseph Walker
valuespeak@msn.com
One of Beth's friends is going through trauma right now. Seems her
boyfriend of a month or so has terminated their relationship with a
slick combination of "I'm going through some difficult things in my
life right now," "I'm not worthy of you" and "It's not you, it's me."
In other words, he's got his eye on a hot sophomore. And so there's
weeping, wailing and gnashing of prom pictures at her house and at
ours. And as usual, I'm sort of clueless when it comes to saying or
doing the right thing.
"Well, what did she expect?" I said to Elizabeth when she tried to
explain the situation to me, using short sentences and single-
syllable words, I might add, since I am... you know... male. "They're 16 years old. Romantic relationships between 16-year-olds usually last about as long as an X-Box 360 on the shelf at Wal-Mart."
"I know," Beth said patiently. "I just wish he would have handled it
better."
I rolled my eyes. I know, I know - I shouldn't have done that. But I
couldn't help it. "Now THERE'S a shocker," I said. "Stop the
presses! `Teenage Boy Behaves Badly!'"
Now it was Beth's turn to roll her eyes. "Dad, you're not."
"If you Google the words `emotional immaturity' you'll be directed to 53,000 web sites aimed at teenage boys," I said.
"At Insensitivity.com the webmaster is a 16-year-old boy. Look
up `tactless' in the dictionary and there's probably a picture of Joe Jr. when he was 16."
"Or when he was 25," she interjected.
"Exactly my point! It's the nature of the beast. It takes them years
to outgrow it."
"And some of them never DO," Beth muttered, glancing at me.
"So in a way," I continued, "this was to be expected. Right?"
Beth sighed. "Yes, Dad," she said. "You're right. But..."
"But what? If you expect something to happen and it happens, what's the big deal?
Beth looked out the window for a moment, then tried to explain: "Sometimes even when you expect something to happen, you keep hoping it won't. So the disappointment doesn't have as much to do with expectation as it has to do with hope."
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I don't know," she
said. "Maybe you never had your heart broken when you were younger..."
Immediately my mind flashed back to the last day of sixth grade.
After weeks of trying to marshal my courage, I finally got up the
nerve to ask Cindy if I could walk her home from school. I was hoping for a smile and a heartfelt "Oh yes, I wish you would!" Even a demure nod would have been great. What I got was a look, a shrug and "I don't care." She wasn't rude; she just wasn't as enthusiastic as I hoped she would be. And that broke my 12-year-old heart.
I don't remember what happened after that, exactly. I don't think I
walked her home. I just remember running into my house and downstairs to my room and throwing myself on my bed, sobbing. And I remember my big sister Wanda Lynne coming in and sitting on my bed and rubbing my back. She didn't know what was wrong, but she knew heartbreak when she saw it. So she just sat there and rubbed my back and told me everything was going to be OK.
And eventually it was.
As that memory washed over me, I suddenly understood what Beth was trying to say. While it's true that part of our job as adults is to
bring mature perspective into our relationships with our teens,
sometimes we forget how much it hurts when young hopes and dreams are dashed - expectations notwithstanding - and how much it helps to have someone there with you, rubbing your back and telling you everything is going to be OK.
By Joseph Walker
valuespeak@msn.com