“The art of the Tease”–What?!?

I have “Psychology Today” articles on my google homepage. Today, there was one that I found intriguing and ridiculous all rolled into one. It is called “The Art of the Tease.” The first thing she points out is how fun teasing someone can be. And it can be. But how often do you enjoy BEING teased? Now, being both a teaser and a teas-ee, I can say that the author raises some valid points about teasing and how to do it without being particularly hurtful, but come on. Psychologists know how much damage teasing can inflict on just about anyone. Do we really need a lesson on how to do it semi-nicely?

In all fairness, there is truth in that teasing does at times reflect intimacy, such as teasing a mate about the endearing way they tumble over their words or look a certain way when they are thinking, etc. There are some people that we can tease and it is known on both sides that it is mere humor borne out of love. But we can also, and more easily I would suggest, decimate what intimacy we have with a person by teasing. Take teasing your children. I cannot count the number of times my husband or I have said something teasingly to our daughter that she took extremely personally and was temporarily crushed. Had I not been aware of her extremely sensitive nature, proper apologies might not have come afterward. Besides, humor and sarcasm are learned behaviors, not innate.

We should never expect kids to “get it.” The kids who tease learned it from watching someone else tease or by being teased themselves. Some kids never understand teasing because the only experience they have with it is negative. But I digress.

The article talked about this phenomenon of negative reaction, too. “In a recent study, he asked roommates and other acquaintances to tease each other, and found that those who were teased almost invariably felt more antagonized than the teasers intended. The recipient of the razz felt ridiculed rather than gently prodded.” Ya think? So the next thing to do, according to the article, is to adopt a set of guidelines for acceptable teasing so that it won’t be so easily misconstrued. What?!?

“Choose your subject carefully. Being ribbed about something silly you did or said is much easier to take than being kidded about a basic trait like weight or appearance. Harass your friend for bragging, for mispronouncing words or for being unable to parallel park—not about his big nose or her hefty legs.”

While it is true that we react more quickly and negatively to physical traits that we cannot change, how is making fun of someone’s “mispronouncing words” likely to get a better reaction? I suppose if it’s a one-time flub it’s funny, but if it’s their stammering or struggling with language in general it’s mean? What if the person you are harassing is not your friend? Therein lies the rub.

“Tease up or across your social world, not down. Because teasing playfully punctures another person’s sense of self, it is more wounding when directed at someone of lower status.”

So, who determines status? And does that mean you can tease your boss but not the mail room clerk? I suppose if you don’t care about being fired. . .and don’t tease the homeless guy, but decimate Donald Trump. Yeah. Because the drunk guy in the gutter will throw his life away over your quip. And Trump would never fire a guy over insulting him. Good logic, don’t you agree? (Oh, sorry, was I teasing the author? Perhaps my quips will “create intimacy almost out of thin air!”)

“Beware the Gentler Sex. In the context of romance, women are more likely to feel insulted by teasing than are men, perhaps because guys are used to it: Young boys often express friendship through taunting and banter.

I find this observation both funny and, well, inaccurate. Yes, women are more likely to feel insulted. They are also more often guilty of gutting each other with words. And let’s throw romance in the mix. “Honey, I love your back fat. No, really. . .” Hmmm. . .back to the physical attributes issue. How about, “Honey, the look on your face when you try to be sexy is so amusing. . .” That’s so much better, don’t you think? And I don’t think men are “used to it,” or we wouldn’t have men who feel they will never be anything but ___ because of teasing they endured at the hands of “so and so” when they were growing up, or teenagers pelting bullets across rooms full of people at school.

“Exaggerate the tease. Go for absurdity, not subtlety. Exaggerating your body language and your words clarifies that you’re just joking and makes it less likely that your intent will be misread.”

Now, this I generally agree with. Absurdity is my friend. But here again, I would argue that the status of the relationship determines the reaction of the teas-ee, not how the teasing is done. If you are teasing someone whom you hold in desregard, or they you, the more absurd you appear, the more vehement the negative reaction.

I am disappointed that an industry that has in its hands such responsibility, in regard to the fragility of the human spirit, would focus on the method rather than the dynamic of the relationships involved. Shame on them.

I am observing more and more that just because someone has a framed piece of paper on their wall stating that they were officially trained in their field does not mean that they are good at what they do, or that they are ethical in how they practice their duties. Some people look at things in terms of pass/fail, while I suppose I tend to prefer striving for excellence. More and more, I see why God changed the circumstances of my life in order to teach me His ways of touching lives. Otherwise, I might have learned too late something I have always known: that the world’s ways of helping fall short of His glory, and apart from His wisdom, in the end lead only to destruction.

What a shame this author merely passed her classes. . .

God’s timing and my interference.

Have you ever gotten so excited about something you see God doing that when you joined in the party you tried to take it over? This happened to me this weekend, and it’s one of those things I’m realizing I do all too often. Someone I have been praying for a lot over the summer, but hadn’t heard from, called to tell me about some amazing things God has been doing in her life, and asked if a particular offer I had made her months ago was still on the table. I said, “of course” and set about keeping to my promise. Then she asked me to help her with something else, and I did. And then when she began to get discouraged about the slow progress she was making, I tried to encourage her not to give in to despair.

And then I set about speeding things up and finding a way to make SURE her situation improved. All of a sudden, I was giving much more time and energy to “helping” her than asked for, necessary, and in the way I thought was best, not just following God’s lead. After getting frustrated when the solutions I found for her were not to her liking, I thought “beggars can’t be choosers–do you want a better life or not?”

And then I got so anxious with worry over her not heeding my advice that I screamed like a banshee at nearly everyone in my family over some stupid housework that didn’t vanish in the blink of an eye. (By the way, they were actually working on it.) Then came the tears and the “I’m so sorry”’s and the recognition of why I was really in knots. I remember saying to my husband, “It must be nice and peaceful not to care about other people. Why do I hurt so much for other people?” And I do, but there was more to it.

Deep down, I was angry with her for not agreeing with me and thanking me for all the time I spent researching options for her, making calls for her, finding an out for her. I was worried that my solution was the only one available and that if she didn’t choose to take it she would stay where she is in her life–a very bad place. I truly was concerned for the safety of her and her children, the pain and anguish she will surely have to endure, as well as her kids, if things don’t change, but I forgot something. . .this is God’s triumph, His plan, not mine.

When she was MIA in my life, I had to entrust her to God and was powerless to do anything or know anything until the appointed time. When she resurfaced and I was able to tangibly help, I overstepped myGod-given boundary and pushed my plan instead of His. I lost MY faith in His ability to handle the situation. I doubted His ability to make this happen without me. I forgot that He was the one that started a ball rolling and gaining speed so fast that she had to call me and tell me and find out if my offer still stood because she needed it NOW! God did all that, not me.

I haven’t gotten a chance to apologize yet, or to tell her what I’ve learned since then that makes my whole plan irrelevant anyway, but I know that yesterday she wasn’t sleeping like she was the other times I called. She was up and doing something. I don’t know what, but something is better than hopelessness. Something is significant. Something means God is working around my interference. I know Him well enough by now to be assured of that!

Now, I can only hope and pray for the opportunity to talk with her just one more time before she’s gone. But I have a feeling that she knows me well enough to know that I am well aware of my humanity and need for forgiveness. And even if we part on somewhat tense terms, I’ll hear from her at some point. And then it will only be to tell me all the wonders God has done in her life. I know it will happen again someday, because I got to make good on my promise, and she promised me she would keep in touch.

And God knows my heart better than I do, and loves me more than I deserve. And God knows how much faith it takes to believe in the ability of this woman to reshape her life to be the woman He intended her to be. And God knows I am one of few, but not the only one to have that faith in her. . .No, in God’s ability to heal her and change her circumstances. And God knows her heart, and “hope never disappoints. . .”

Today

Today I had the privilege of interacting with a group of older women in a bible study setting. It has been more than three years since I have been in the midst of mentorship that way. At the church we attend here, the ladies are wonderful, and I feel a part of them in a sense, but there really is not a gathering time for us. There is no “ladies study,” which is odd because the women serving are, as in many places, the backbone of the church happenings. So I decided to sign up for a morning gathering at a church nearby, though not my “home church.” I don’t know about Sunday services, but as for the fellowship and friendship I have been missing in my everyday existence, I am home. Already, I can see some of what God has in store for us to bring to each other, and I am excited. Today I allowed myself to be happy just listening.
Today my husband is working from home on a sample project for a company he may be joining soon. It is quiet, as our two youngest are napping and the elders are at school, so he can see that it IS POSSIBLE to work from home. Once he moves his “office” into one of the lodge rooms, it’ll be even easier. We can do this–be in the house together 24/7 again. It will be different this time. Today we can see that.

Today my dear friend is searching for answers about some things that happened in her childhood. The deeper she digs, the more lies unfold, the deeper the hurt cuts, and the fuller her anger over what can be done to a child in the name of religion. As she combs through articles trying to find out if the murder she witnessed so long ago is solved or not, as she questions whether the woman who raised her is really her mother at all, she remembers a woman with long hair that she felt safe with. Once upon a time, whether this was her mother or not, she was loved. Today as she searches for truth, she can only keep going by hanging on to that sliver of silver. And because of it, she can no longer brush the past aside. Today truth is more important than survival.

Today I have so much to say about God’s faithfulness to me it will pour out of every crevice. If you are here to watch my dark clouds billow and crash, you are in the wrong place. The sun beam poked through and the clouds are dispersing. I had a long week last week, and the weekend provided no release. No time to do more than reflect and to pray and go on with my day. But today, though the weather is droll at best, the sun is shining because I am loved.

Today I remember as I look at lives I have touched in some small, yet meaningful way, that God loves me past my impurities. Even as I am in the refining fire, black embers swirling within the ore of my being, the metal begins to shine through and someone sees His art coming to fruition. Only the artist can see the man in a chunk of rock, (i.e. David in the marble) but many can see and appreciate the craftsmanship involved in the process and the artistry that results. Today I know that I am more than a lump of coal. Today I am one day closer to being a diamond in His crown. Today I am free.

Warm fuzzies and harsh reflections

I like warm fuzzies. No, I love warm fuzzies. You know, that butterflies-in-the-tummy-goose-pimply-special kind of feeling that seems to invade your whole body, yet is strangely reminiscent of the first drop of a really great roller coaster ride. It’s only a moment, so you have to savor it, you know what I mean? Were it not for these little slivers of silver, some days I would want to drink my self into an oblivion of red rage.

I get them sometimes when I rock the baby to sleep, when I see Daddy playing with the kids, when I know I’ve been a help to someone in need, and sometimes when I see myself in the mirror with a fresh new haircut and no more gray (for a while). I get them when I discover something uncanny that I have in common with someone. I get them when I pray. . .sometimes. But warm fuzzies are good. It’s too bad they’re temporary.

The thing is, some people don’t believe that those gooey feelings have any merit. They say that it’s just a feeling and it doesn’t mean anything. They think that it’s just a mirage, nothing more than some neurons misfiring in your brain. I sometimes want to grab these people by the throat, squeeze just long enough to make them really lightheaded, let go and say, “No, THAT is the result of some neurons misfiring in your brain.”

How is it that the same people who can agree that the hard ball in the pit of your stomach, headaches, sleepiness, and hopelessness of depression are so unbearably real that they must take medication to correct the misfiring neurons in their brains, yet deny the practical reality of the warm fuzzies?

Who cares what my brain is doing chemically? It’s only responding to my heart! If you go to the doctor for unexplained aches, pains and fatigue, he may ask if you are under a lot of stress. We say, “Well, now that I think about it, YES!!!” He then deduces that our body is responding to too much stress and recommends cutting down this activity, reducing these stressors, getting adequate rest, yada yada yada. Why, then, do we foolishly believe that the symptoms of depression, conversely, are simply our soul’s reaction to a chemical imbalance in the brain? Why do we insist on the simplicity of a pill for our mental well being, while rearranging the circumstances of our whole life (join a gym, change jobs, dump the “negative people in your life,” etc.) because our cholesterol was high this trip to the doctor’s office? Talk about a spiritual disconnect!

Change your life. Be honest with yourself and the people who are important to you and change your life. Yes, change your diet, get excercise, find a less stressful job. Now about that depression. Take a pill and stay on the couch instead of looking for a job. Take a pill and stay in the bed of a man who beats you. Take a pill and find ways to prove what a worthless man you really are. Nobody loves you anyway, right? I mean, look at you. You’re pathetic. No wonder you’re on happy pills. . .Wait a minute, those things don’t have anything to do with how you. . .feel. This feeling is just because you have too little dopameine and seratonin in your brain. . .right?

Don’t misunderstand me. Depression is real. And pills help with the first steps of getting your life back. They give you a beginning, a thrust to push you out of the starting blocks, and you need that. But they won’t fix your life. If you are smart enough to know that you can take a pill for your cholesterol but you still need to cut back on the cheesefries and bacon burgers, you are smart enough to see that if you don’t change your life to reflect who you want to be, vices aside, you will just get depressed again. . .and again. . .and again.

It is a hard thing to take an honest look at yourself, especially when you see failure. Especially when you hate what you’ve become. But each day is a new beginning. A new chance to live with honesty and integrity. A new opportunity to set things right, to make amends, to explore a new corner of the freedom found in forgiveness. To embrace the grace God has offered us through Christ’s sacrifice.

That’s what the law that gives perfect freedom is–the freedom to begin again. . .to start over. . .again. To reflect the living proof we are every day of our lives that if you break one law you are guilty of breaking the whole law and no one can ever meet that standard. No one can. . .ever. When you realize that we are all on the same playing field, you can accept grace. You are no more undeserving than the elders of the church you attend. And they are no more deserving. They are just busy enjoying the gift instead of fussing over all the print on the wrapping paper.

It is a hard thing to see those harsh reflections and not turn away. But if you stare deeply into the ugliest part of your soul and dare to ask God what He sees, before you launch into the “how can you love this filth?” speech He’s heard a thousand times before, take just a minute to savor the warm fuzzie and acknowledge the fact that it is real. It may only be a chemical reaction in your brain, and it may be temporary, but it is only responding to the love that just got planted in your heart, and it is as real as the ball in the pit of your stomach that follows when you let it go.

The little Baptist church down the road from me changed their sign yesterday. Now it says, “Peace isn’t the abscence of conflict but the ability to cope.” I agree, though I must admit that it’s a whole lot better if it’s accompanied by an occasional warm fuzzie, don’t you think?