A lot of people ask me where I get the buttons that I use for Button Sunday. Some of them are button photos people send me (it started with my friend Denece). Many of them are pictures I’ve shot of buttons belonging to Lynne or me–we’ve both been collecting buttons since we were wearing Dr Pepper Lip Smackers (me) or making art out of McDonald’s straws (Lynne), i.e., since we were early teens. Most of the button photos are lifted from the Internet. I’m willing to do time in Internet jail as long as there’s wireless.
Today’s button has a mini story behind it.
When I’m in the pool at the gym, I DO NOT want to be bothered. If I’m swimming laps, this isn’t a problem. Nobody talks to lap swimmers because our heads are under water most of the time. But if I’m working out, which is 45 minutes of my hour, either with aqua weights or other equipment, I’m still in a zone. Water time is MY time. I rarely think about stuff that’s bothering me. It’s my escape from anything stressful or vexing. Honestly, I’m mostly thinking about muscle groups, or what food I plan to use as fuel for the rest of the day. Also, I’m either watching the second hand on the giant clock or counting, depending on what exercise I’m doing.
When people break my focus with idle chatter, it can be very annoying. I’m not there to socialize. I’m working out. Some of the lifeguards know the regulars’ personalities and routines so well that they often find tactful ways to get our space back for us, either by actual lane changes or by engaging talkers in conversation that draws them away from us.
One day a few weeks ago, however, a woman who was sharing my lane to aqua jog began talking to me. I’m not sure how she initiated the conversation, but something made me willingly forget my routine, give up counting and timing, and engage with her. What I found out is that she and her siblings are dealing with the challenges of a chronically ill mother. Her sister is the primary caregiver. The woman at the pool was unable to do all the things her sister was handling, and she was worried about how she could help. I thought about those last four years when my mother was here and dealing with her failing health, and all the ways my sister and brother helped me help her, even though they live far away. It was so nice to be able to tell this woman some of the funny and nice things that they, as well as my friends and Tom, did to make things better for Mother and me.
Ultimately, when I got out of the pool and put my weights away, one of my favorite lifeguards gave me a sympathetic look as she said, “Was your workout okay?” And I answered, “You know, it doesn’t matter. Today it was more important to listen.”
I’m not sharing this story to pat myself on the back. More than anyone else I know, I need to be reminded that many of those things I’m convinced I MUST GET DONE are not really that important. As I was leaving the locker room after I showered and dressed, I spied this button left behind on a bench. Maybe it was a little karmic reward for not being so self-absorbed. Or maybe I should keep it where I can see it when I get frustrated because somebody disrupts my plans.
Like always, a thing has whatever meaning we give it.
The Ride Of The Valkyrie button … a classic!
You know, whenever I think of that music, I either flash to that dreadful scene in Apocalypse Now (there’s a reason I don’t watch war movies) or I hear, “Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit,” which is much more entertaining. =)
That was really great you were able to give her advice to help her out with such a difficult situation. Maybe some sort of intuition made her try to talk to you, and made you take the time to listen to her.
Thanks.
Maybe I accidentally forgot to look like an aloof bitch that day!
I guess it’s a balance: if you’re too focused on what you intended to do, it can keep you from experiencing stuff on the fly. I was very guilty of this rigidity when I was younger. On the other hand, there are some annoying people who will distract you when you’re trying to do something, and you have to shoot a bazooka at their head to get home the point that you’re not there to chit chat.
that makes me teary. So glad she met the right person that day
Funny how that happens. Hey, what if she’d said, “Don’t mention this on your online journal. I’m WANTED.” Heh heh.
Very wise.
Thanks, Todd.
That’s a wonderful story, Becky. Sounds almost like fate that she found a person not only who could listen, but could actually help her.
Or maybe she went home and wrote in her blog, “Man, this woman in the pool today would NOT shut up…”
Thanks. =)
Yup.
I’ve been threatening to do another major purge of my attic and garage. I’ll never travel light–not as light as it takes to live in an RV!–but stuff I will never use again or that has no sentimental value needs to go. Maybe I can sell it on eBay!
And on those days when it’s important just to listen, people with a worry in their lives have often said to me (much later) that even if a solution wasn’t forthcoming at the time, it was good to actually get to talk to someone who would listen unconditionally . . .
I’m sure you made someone’s life happier that day.
Interestingly, that’s exactly part of what I told her she could do for her sister. Listen without judgment, because sometimes a caregiver just desperately needs to vent, and the feelings have nothing to do with the level of compassion and care they’re extending toward an ill person.