{"id":1435,"date":"2006-02-20T20:41:00","date_gmt":"2006-02-20T20:41:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog2\/2006\/02\/to-need-or-not-to-need\/"},"modified":"2006-02-20T20:41:00","modified_gmt":"2006-02-20T20:41:00","slug":"to-need-or-not-to-need","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/2006\/02\/to-need-or-not-to-need\/","title":{"rendered":"To Need or Not to Need"},"content":{"rendered":"

Excuse the teenage-style angst, but I have been wondering lately about what to do with feeling needy. What do others do? It seems to be true that nobody loves you when you’re down and out.<\/a> I find this to be incredibly sad. But then I think about those whom I like best to hang with, and most often I describe those people as “fun.” I don’t look for people who are really needy; and yet if one of my dearest friends were in deep need, I would leap to their side.<\/p>\n

But if it happened too frequently? Would I still be there for them? Hmmm…<\/p>\n

So why should I expect others to find it appealing in me when I am vulnerable?<\/p>\n

Because that is when I need people the most!<\/p>\n

I am quite willing to be needed by my children; in fact, I relish it when they come to me for something. It is pretty unusual because my kids are all very self-sufficient in their own ways. Nat will not\/cannot(?) tell me what he needs, for the most part. I have to guess and guess. Max keeps it to himself also, and only tells me when he is already pretty upset. The same goes for Ben: he goes from content to angry in two seconds flat. He chooses anger (well, it probably does not feel like a choice to him but a reflex) because he is threatened by other, more vulnerable feelings.<\/p>\n

When Ned needs me, he also does not tell me. I am supposed to hear it, or feel it, in a particular type of silence and his quiet words. I am supposed to put my needs aside and pull out of him whatever it is that is dragging him down. Often he does not know; he merely needs to talk about it, slowly, and quietly, until he has figured it out. And that takes a lot of patience for me — and I am not so good at patience.<\/p>\n

My neediness is messy and ugly. It just kind of spills out of me, usually onto Ned, unless he is not here. Then I have to try to find an appropriate outlet. But there are few people whom I can trust with my roiling neediness when it is there. Why would I want people to see me in that state? But it is then that I really need someone, so I take the risk and look for someone who can handle it, who will cradle my fragile moment in just the right way. But who really can perform such a task for someone else? There are few I can trust and there are fewer interested, because maybe it scares them, or is a turn-off. There is nothing worse than offering your most real self to someone and then having it misunderstood — or rejected.<\/p>\n

When I find a way to let flow the stuff that’s welling up, and maybe smear it onto some paper or a computer screen, I can eventually float back into a normal, comfortable place. Lately I have been learning how to do that for myself. I am surprised and delighted when I can, when I find that writing or thinking or exercising has smoothed me out again. Then I don’t need anyone to do it for me. Then, I can turn outwards once more, to friends and family, show the beautiful, shining side, and lo and behold, everyone flocks back, because I am strong and whole again — or so they think.<\/p>\n

But I’ve just shown you: can you handle it?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Excuse the teenage-style angst, but I have been wondering lately about what to do with feeling needy. What do others do? It seems to be true that nobody loves you when you’re down and out. I find this to be incredibly sad. But then I think about those whom I like best to hang with, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1435","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pSTth-n9","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1435","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1435"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1435\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1435"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1435"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1435"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}