My friend C who lives in Belgium, once visited me during her time she was in the US. It was the day before I delivered my son. She had her 5 1/2 month old son with her and she fed her son by breastfeeding him. Now, I am not the type of person to complain. I don't get upset if someone whips out their breast to feed their child. So when she asked me if I had a problem, I didn't really. Yes, it felt a bit uncomfortable at first, but it was ok. She asked the other 10 people in the room if it was ok as well. That group included about 5 other guys, one being my husband, who in turn responded that it was fine. Well, really...to them...it wasn't. They did not feel it was the best thing to say no to her when she asked if breastfeeding her child in front of them was ok.
So, a few weeks later, I chatted with C. I told her that customs in the US are different than those from Belgium. The guys and some of the girls had a problem with her whipping it out and feeding her child. And even though it was a precious moment for her to share with her son, the rest of the world was being kind to say that they had no problem for her doing this, but in all actuality, they did. They did not want to see that. They wanted to run and hide. They wanted her to get a bottle out instead. C was upset. She stated something that has been in my mind for years. She told me, "if you had a problem with it, why not tell me so?"
So, why do we keep our thoughts, fears, emotions to ourselves?
In college, I had this great friend. He shared so much with me and vice versa. He shared his dating nightmares and even cried on my shoulder. At times, he was my only friend. Years ago, I sent a few venting emails to a friend of mine. They weren't the most caring or thought-through emails, but I needed to vent. Instead of taking them as I was mad, trying to make him understand that hurt I felt, and be open and honest with him, he took them as I hate his guts, his actions, and that just wanted to hurt him. After reading them later, I don't blame him. But as a human, I have a hard time showing my anger in anything else but mean words. I used the most unorthodox way to tell him my frustration. I emailed him. There was no way for him to know how hurt I was. All he read was anger. There was no way for him to see the tears that spilled down my cheeks as I typed. There was only anger. There was no way for him to realize I love him so much and didn't want to hurt him or our relationship as friends. There was just anger.
Then, I think about my friend K. We have been through a lot. We watched each other give birth to beautiful baby boys. She is expecting again and I couldn't be more happy if I tired! =) Sometimes I burst at the seams just thinking about how lucky she is. And how happy I am for her and her husband. But with every friendship, there was a time I was angry with her. So angry that I couldn't even talk to her. So angry, I had to distance myself to make myself not hurt. But the most wonderful thing happened. We talked about it. We probably had our longest conversation to date that day. We spill our guts out and cried together. We know (most of the time) when to push and when to back off. I can be open and honest with her, and I hope she tells me off when I push her too far or take her for granted or even piss her off. She is a wonderful friend.
So, why can I talk to my other friend the way I talk to K? Why do I walk the thin line? Why don't I call him and tell him how much I miss his friendship and wish he was still a pillar in my life? I think there is too much pain for both of us. I think he would tell me that I'm crazy or tell me things are fine when deep inside I know they are not. We are both married with a child of our own. We both have great lives that we live, but don't talk about anything anymore but the light topics. How I wish my friends could just be honest with me. Tell me you are having a hard day. Tell me you doubts about being a parent, spouse....etc. Tell me you sometimes/a lot of the time hate your job. Tell me you're scared to raise/discipline your child. Tell me you hate winter/summer. You're favorite color is black or even purple. Tell me you just wish you could spend all day in bed with nobody to bother you or that you want to go drinking to take your mind off things. Trust me, I've been there too. Sometimes I wake up just wondering why? I feel like strangling my son when he asks the question why all the time, but at least he asks. At least he opens his mouth and shares his thoughts. He's not afraid if he will offend. He just wants the reassurance that we are not only listening and willing to tell him, but that we care.
Maybe being truthful isn't so bad.
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