Category — Rants and Essays

I seldom print emails anyway, but I find it perturbingly precious when I get work correspondence that carries this tagline:

Please consider the environment before printing this email.

Am I allowed to kill one tree, just enough to make the stakes to drive through the hearts of people who end their emails with this?

You don’t answer emails, and it takes me two calls and three transfers to get you on the phone. In a nasal monotone, you respond to questions grudgingly, with narrow answers and arcane technical jargon. Fifteen minutes and 20 blood pressure points later, I have my answer.

It’s been interesting to read over this post again and see how I’ve gotten more confident that I made the right choice for me. Yeah, I got a haircut my husband really doesn’t like. The world is still spinning after this monumental event!

And — somehow — he has survived the snipping of hair that was not in any way attached to his body. And I have survived his tight-lipped disapproval and his visible hurt that I would actually want to make a choice that displeases him.

Somehow, personal decisions loom larger than they really are, because they’re not really about the haircut. They’re about, “Why won’t you do it my way — don’t you love me?” and “Why do you even ask me to change myself in a way that I don’t like, just to please you — don’t you love ME?” They’re about him feeling his tastes were discounted. They’re about me feeling like a little girl who has to ask permission to change a personal detail about myself. They’re about two people who love each other, trying to keep themselves from digging their heels in too hard.

*That* is what I mean when I say it’s a control issue. It should really only be about controlling yourself, not the other person. He doesn’t control my haircuts. And I learned that I don’t get to control his reactions.

I’m OK with that humbling lesson. Even in the closest, most loving relationships, there are some boundaries. After all, a couple DOES have two entirely separate bodies. Why not let the person who lives in each one make the ultimate decisions for that body, that mind, that set of emotions?

And to be clear, he doesn’t “let” me make choices, and neither do I “let” him. We just make them for ourselves. Roseanne Barr isn’t always a font of wisdom, but I don’t think I could say it better than she did in this quote that is true of either sex: “The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it.”

It’s hard to hold onto your personal boundaries — firmly, but without needlessly hurting the other person — when the intrusion comes from someone you love.

A few fellows have asked me in some private emails why I’d NOT want to keep my hair the way my husband likes it. Why wouldn’t I want to give him that gift? (With the implied question, “What kind of wife ARE you?”) And my response is that we both give gifts in a marriage. This wasn’t my time to give one. On this particular point, I decided I needed self-approval more than I needed someone else’s, even my husband’s.

And I totally expect him to love the total package of me, even if he might not like one of the ribbons wrapped around it.

It’s so hard sometimes to explain just why a small issue is one you find important. I have let relatives, friends, and lovers make decisions for me in the past about clothes, makeup, haircuts, career paths, politics, and more. Now … I’m grown up. I’m willing to consider input, sometimes even to deliberately put my own wishes second (or last) as a loving gift to another person. (Giving is a joy too.) But ultimately, I am responsible for making my own choices and accepting their consequences.

Otherwise, who’s living this life?

Technorati Tags: personal responsibility, my husband hates my haircut, boundaries