Just Go Say Hello To Her Already

A few months ago I read a heartbreaking and inspiring story about a local woman who had been diagnosed with ALS. I knew of Sara Cooper, but I didn’t know Sara Cooper. Still, in reading her words, I immediately felt a connection to her. This fierce soul was someone I needed to actually know and so I sent her a message on Facebook. 

Over the next few weeks we exchanged messages, likes and comments on social media. But I wanted to sit with her. Her quick wit and commanding presence at a recent awards event captivated me. I didn’t just want to know of her. I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to laugh with her in person, not just in emojis. But I was afraid. What if she thought I was some kind of weirdo with a morbid curiosity about a person who was terminally ill? What if I wasn’t nearly as funny as she was? What if I bored her? What if we sat in an odd silence when we met and it was uncomfortable?

And then, I thought about my daughters. At 11 years old they seem to always just dive into situations and relationships with a confidence I cannot imagine possessing. They are kind and welcoming and sure that they are worth the time and attention of pretty much everyone. They don’t cower in corners or wait for people to say hello or ask them to join in on a game. They just do it. Or they start their own game and kindly welcome others into their circle.

But, me? Nope. I’m a lurker. I’ll watch people at networking events and think, “they look like they’re having fun. I wonder what they’re talking about.” But I won’t join them. And somehow I can speak to a crowd of 500 people and not be intimated in the least. I know what I want to say and I know it matters. I have a purpose up there and I feel funny and justified and right where I belong. Why? Probably because I get to get off that stage and walk immediately to people I already know so they can give me a pat on the back and we can go about our day. I don’t have to actually walk up to a person I don’t know and introduce myself. I don’t have to enter a group of already connected people (often women) and wonder if they will like me or hate me or think my dress is ugly. I don’t have to be vulnerable. 

And I have a feeling I’m not the only one. In fact, I know I’m not. 

I finally mustered the courage to ask Sara if she would like to get together in person so I could interview her for a blog I wanted to write about her incredible fight with ALS. She happily agreed and we set up a date. When I arrived I was still super nervous, sure that she wasn’t going to find me nearly as interesting as I found her. But the conversation flowed so effortlessly and beautifully that our time was up before we could even get to all my questions. So we decided, we’ll do this again. 

And there’s more. Sara told me that she had been following me and my work for years; watching me speak and then “work a room” and she wanted to introduce herself and get to know me too but she worried, “Why would she want to talk to me? She’s been on TV.” 

So there we were, two successful, cool, funny women who really wanted to know each other; afraid that that one would think the other was not enough. And now, here we are, realizing that it shouldn’t take a terminal disease to make this happen. 

I’ve decided now that next time I want to get to know someone, I’m going to just go for it. Chances are they are just as worried and awkward as me. And chances also are that we’re both going to end up laughing.

I hope you’ll give it a try too. 

If you like my writing, email me anytime at daniellegletow@gmail.com.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

No Thank You

Me: “When you’re done with that plate, please get up and put it in the kitchen sink.”

7 year-old Mia: “No Thank You”

To this day, nearly five years since she first uttered that phrase, when Mia is confronted with a situation that doesn’t quite suit her, she simply turns to us, looks up (or these days, down) and kindly says, “No, Thank You.”

Even if it wasn’t a suggestion. Or a request. And somehow, every time she declines our direction, she does it in a way that isn’t rude or disrespectful. She genuinely doesn’t want to do it and genuinely doesn’t want to be rude in telling us so.

That leads me to my current situation. I’m 41. I don’t decline anything. I mean, very, very rarely will I say “no” to anything anyone asks of me, regardless of how they ask it, unless my kids need me or I am asleep or it requires me to drive and I’ve had some wine. But lately, as the pressures of running two foundations, a household and a family have mounted and life has thrown me some curve balls both medically and emotionally, I’ve decided maybe, just maybe, Mia has been onto something all along.

When people are mean, I take it. When people are demanding, I take it. When people talk shit behind my back and I literally catch them by seeing it on another person’s phone, I take it. And it’s not because I’m weak or a pushover. It’s truly because I think “I should be the bigger person here. I can handle this. I can handle them. And I should. Because I’ve done mean things and bad things and if this is my punishment, I should just deal with it.”

Do you do that? Do you ever feel like, even if it a particular moment you have done nothing wrong, you have surely done enough wrong in your past to deserve being talked to/treated like/etc whatever nonsense is being thrown at you? Shame? Guilt? Pressure? Passive-aggressiveness?

Because I do. I think constantly about how much wrong I have done before I think at all about how much RIGHT and GOOD I have done. I could end all the wars, feed the world and cure cancer and I’d still say, “well, that one time in high school I was really mean to that girl and maybe it ruined her whole year or life and so I guess I should just hate myself forever and ever until I die.”

Anyone else?

Well – last week – I kind of stopped this. Not totally, but a little bit. I decided to be more like my 11 year-old daughter than my 41 year-old self. I decided to say, “No Thank You.”

Because someone else’s crappy demeanor, unwarranted judgement and unrealistic expectations should not be my cross to bear. Man, I have enough of my own. And I’m sure you do too. These situations actually don’t require me to comply and while I wish Mia would sometimes consider a “sure, no problem” rather than a “No Thank You” when I ask her to go take a shower, I respect her voicing her displeasure and disinterest in what I’m bringing to the table. She speaks up.

I’m doing something right with these kids.

So, I’m going to keep trying this. Whenever I feel like I’m being disrespected, disregarded or just plain shit-on, I’m going to go with this: “No Thank You”.

Because, man, I do enough of that to myself. I don’t need people in my life to add to it. None of us do.

And by the way, this isn’t giving my kid a pass. We kindly, and firmly, remind her that sometimes cleaning up (her dishes or her body) may not be what she feels like doing in that exact moment but it is, in fact, necessary – for her well-being and all of ours. And when we are kind in our reminders, she gets up, and she gets it done.

And maybe that is another lesson right there…we could all use more kindness, to others, and to ourselves.