European Stare

European Stare

There is likely a version of this in every country and culture, as is my style I prefer to describe a situation or scenario, so you can best imagine to which that I refer.

I had scheduled a time to call a friend, we are both busy. I often do this as it’s how I make sure things happen and my life works.

While I’m busy with my appointments, my ‘not-working’ and the voluntary stuff and the friend with her family and being a mum.

So, I rang her and after the bold statement that she felt ‘people didn’t call her because they think she’s OK, because she has a husband’.

Um, can you feel my eye rolls?

You all know I don’t have a husband?

The painful conversation continued and she was telling me about a toy they had purchased for their second child, said child was clearly in the background and correcting mum for calling said toy by its wrong name.

Can you feel my disinterest in said conversation?

This story come from about five years ago and I can’t believe how vividly I recall it. There seemed to be more conversation between mother and daughter than mother and Helen, so I cut the call short because it was giving me a migraine.

,

The following day I had a conversation with a friend in actual person. Said person comes from a Greek background and is as ‘Aussie’ as I am. She threw me a look of horror and surprise. I couldn’t help it, I smiled because we both know what she was going to say.

She said “Oh no! My daughter come up to me when I’m on the phone and they know not to bother me.” She went on to say the closer her children insisted on her attention the sterner the “look” would get.

My mum, who is not European, is from good Aussie/English/Irish stock, yet not first fleet.

Did not do European stare.

As a youngster, my mum spent a lot of time on the phone. No really, so long, if there is a world record for mum’s spending time on the phone it would have my mum’s name on it.

She did something different after stomping our feet and grumbling, doing the little grumpy dance (You know the one, lie you need to go to the bathroom and are waiting for permission) Didn’t need to, just painting a picture. I was young.

Mum can say to whomever she was speaking to “Can you just hang on a second?” as she put her hand over the mouth piece and said to you. “Can you go peel the potatoes” or maybe “Pick some carrots” or you know “feed the cat.” You knew, it was always something, seemed like busy work to me.

So, you either learned to leave her be and find something close to distract yourself, but you know she could talk. Now I use the European stare on her. It’s good for every time you need to communicate simple things and easy to add tone.

 

I’m More Than Just a Stroke

I’m More Than Just a Stroke

There is so much judgement to having a stroke. Normally I get it by just a look sent my way from someone in passing. I usually notice it and go for the wry smile anyway. I prefer to kill with kindness.

Sometimes others witness this judgement and they take care of it too. To be clear my mum personalises every single slight that happens to me. So, she reacts like it’s all happening to her. She can’t help herself.

But the carer while arranging her social engagements for the Sunday afternoon, she told her friend she had me in the morning. She described me as and in the context of “Helen’s forty-five and had a stroke.” Something about the tone she used, I responded with a “Yes?” with the end of the word lifted. Raised my eyebrows some. She sniggered a little and seemed reluctant to share.

Her friend’s judgement was swift “forty-five and had a stroke? That’s young for a stroke.”

I reminded her I’d been in my late thirties, but she informed me that he had put him (her friend) in his place, that I hadn’t been a drinker or a smoker.

Big love her way. Bless her cotton socks.

But I reassured her, I’m used to that level of judgement from complete strangers. I told her it was fine, I wasn’t even offended. I had a fairly thick skin in some ways these days and I will growl a questioning grumpy “What?” at someone who gives me a look of disrespect or I will give them a “FUCK YOU” if needed.

So, there are times, it’s just not worth it to need to advocate every single time someone disrespects me or I wouldn’t leave the house or answer the phone or deal with family. I would just stay home and wait to die.

I do of course reward and thank people who take the time to simply step out of my way, so I can pass and I don’t make a big thing of it, so I incline my head slightly and give them a quiet thank you in their direction.

 

The Look

The Look

I get some really odd ‘looks’ from people when I’m out and about. Today I got that disgusted look from a “young” lady who seemed to think (from the expression on her face) I was somehow a representation of something or one she would never be.

Maybe I’ve gotten old, but I find the attitude of this young snot to be a complete opposite of what I had at that age.

I think I was open, happy, respectful towards others and myself. So really didn’t much appreciate her grumpy attitude, I chose to ignore her.

I otherwise find when I walk past people in the street, they look away when we are close and passing. When I make the conscious effort, always to make eye contact. I always like to catch their eye, smile and acknowledge people no matter where I am.

I don’t need to stop and have a conversation, I just like to think life could be a little better if we could connect, even in this tiny, minuscule way.

I also think it’s respectful.

Is this wrong to think like this?