Friday, May 14, 2010

Hell is a Pampered Chef party where you don't know anyone

   It's interesting how studying canine behavior makes you more tuned-in to human behavior.  The "dog-people" I know are also some of the most self-aware and empathetic.  There are studies that show that as you learn canine body language and facial expressions, you are better able to interpret people's emotions based on expressions and body language (and vice-versa, but oddly I think more people start with dogs) - and that with both, once you are able to see it, you cannot "un-see" it.  You learn to tune in, and you train yourself to stop looking past it.  For better or worse, this skill is yours forever.  It's why I have a hard time watching The Dog Whisperer on TV, and enduring "come to Jesus" meetings at work, but that's another post...

   Here is an always-in-progress study on me, appropriate for my journal, and I guess for you too since I've had two glasses of Shiraz: 
   I always thought of myself as more of a cattle dog - secure in the world, no fears, no baggage, confronting the world with a "Yes! Let's do that!  The whole world is awesome, and I can deal with whatever comes!" attitude.  And to an extent, this is true.  However, as I contemplate my pending border collie ownership, it seems I have a little BC as well, in the form of weird phobias.  I hope that like the border collie, I remain lovable in my weirdness, somehow still not fragile for my faults, and have other gifts that make hanging out with me worthwhile.  I'd better not get a Anatolian Shepherd, because that's way outside of my wheelhouse.

   I am easygoing, tolerant, affiliative, and calm in the face of adversity.  In fact, I am so calm in the face of adversity, I now recognize shades of the shutting down and super-slow-mo that dogs go into when they are over the threshold at which they can effectively cope with a situation.  Strangely, I think people mis-interpret it the same way as with dogs that have shut down (usually from constant punishment) - lovely behavior, with no indication of an issue.  Polite.  Reserved.  Good for me most of the time - it's generally nice for people to think you are unflappable.  I can't recall that last time I was "flapped," if that's even a word.  To strangers I am generally quite kind, and - like many of you, whether you wish to admit it or not - I reserve my least kind behavior for my family and close friends, who will love me no matter what.  I am an unapologetic, unbridled optimist.  This makes me want to leave the house on a Saturday with no plan, knowing an adventure awaits.  I truly enjoy other people's successes and happiness, and I don't think I've felt anything like envy in a long, long time.

   Here's the thing.  As it turns out, I am WAY weird.  (And you're either saying "and, what's the news..." or "what?! You're supposed to be the solid person in our friendship!"  Sorry to break it to you, if you're in the latter category.)   I HATE the dentist.  This is actually where this started, I finally went to the dentist after I'm not going to share how long.  I don't think it's accurate to say it's fear, because I know I will be OK, but I HATE the dentist, and it causes me serious, palpable anxiety - enough to keep me away when I fully recognize the value of preventative healthcare, enough to keep my heart rate raised an hour after I left the office.  I think I may have to blame the Army healthcare system, if you really want to know the truth - a culture of "suck it up and drive on" in the face of pain does not make for a good dental visit.  I now have two more appointments (Scrape-O-Rama I and II) and "dread" about sums it up.  If the hygienist I saw at the first time wasn't surprisingly skilled at behavior modification through positive reinforcement (I'm guessing this is a fortunate accident, being praised for each bite plate), I do not think I would be keeping my next two appointments with her.  I also think that if I wasn't open to seeing my own anxiety, I could not deal with it as effectively (at least enough so that I'll actually go back.)  And revealing my anxiety just might have made the difference, in that my lovely hygienist was able to bring her A-game - and make sure I didn't leave the premises without making a follow-up appointment.  If you think you don't have something like this, I encourage you to really do some soul searching- because until I actually WENT to the dentist, I was able to avoid the whole thing and pretend it wasn't an issue.  I feel the same way about great white sharks, and being that I don't spend a lot of time in the ocean, and am well aware of the statistical improbability I will ever encounter one, I find this one pretty odd too.  Even though they DO have really, really big teeth, if there isn't one around, one should probably not be concerned.  Particularly when I kind of like snakes, and they are right in my backyard and potentially more dangerous - well mostly harmless, but more dangerous than nonexistent great white sharks.

   I am also SHY and totally uncomfortable in crowds of new people.  But I find human contact and interaction so rewarding that I do it anyway - I teach dog training classes with tons of new people, and seek out other people's company.  The classroom is MY place, where I feel comfortable, either as student or as teacher.   But try taking me to a Pampered Chef party where I don't know anyone and then heading to the bathroom and leaving me alone - if I go to hell it will be a Pampered Chef party where I don't know anyone.  And I don't need a spatula.  Oh wait, you won't notice anything because I will just be in slow-mo and looking totally polite like I'm enthralled with someone's conversations about their children (really? you're not noticing something odd there?)

    I also see it more when people are uncomfortable now.  And when they're quietly joyful, which is cool.  But mostly, dogs and people seem to spend more than their share of time being uncomfortable.  We should do something about that, but we'd have to all notice it first.  I recommend a dog training class.

2 comments:

  1. reading this makes me miss you. sometimes i think about the afternoons we spent reading in your bedroom, not even talking to each other for hours. those were some of the best times i had. i want to see you.
    michele

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