Raspberry Iced M

If I have to stay quiet in order to keep the peace, it isn’t peace.

Trust.
Consistency.
Honesty.
Respect.
Knowing that someone loves you even when you’re difficult.
Knowing that disagreement doesn’t automatically mean abandonment.

But I have also realized that there is something that can look like security…but is something else entirely.

Nobody is arguing.
Everything seems fine.
Nobody is upset.
Nobody is challenging anything.
Nobody is hurt.

And sometimes that’s because the relationship is genuinely healthy.

But other times, it’s because one person has learned that honesty costs too much.

Silence is not always peace. Sometimes it’s fear.

Fear of an argument.
Fear of disappointing someone.
Fear of being misunderstood.
Fear of retaliation.
Fear of withdrawn affection.
Fear of someone else’s anger.
Fear of being labeled as dramatic, difficult, selfish, disrespectful, ungrateful, or too sensitive.
Fear that one disagreement will somehow become evidence that the entire relationship is hanging by a thread.

So you learn to calculate.

Is this worth bringing up? Maybe I’m overreacting. It’s probably not that important. I’ll just let it go.

And sometimes letting something go is absolutely the mature thing to do. Not every irritation requires a summit meeting.

But when everything gets swallowed because expression feels dangerous, that’s a different story. Keeping the peace and being afraid to disturb it are not the same thing.

A relationship should be able to survive a disagreement. It’s one of the simplest forms of relational safety.

Can I disagree with you and still feel secure with you?
Can I say no?
Can I tell you something hurt me?
Can I have a different opinion?
Can I question something?
Can I tell you that I think you’re wrong?
Can I make a decision that you don’t like?

And afterward, are we still okay? Even if there is tension. Even if a conversation is needed.

Healthy relationships are not relationships without uncomfortable moments. Healthy relationships are not automatically threatened by differences. Security isn’t knowing we’ll never disagree. It’s knowing that disagreements don’t mean we’re done.

Agreement is not the price of admission. I don’t want to belong anywhere that requires me to continuously edit myself to remain welcome. While I am familiarizing myself with the art of shushing myself, it should never be practiced for the sole purpose of “keeping” someone.

A former therapist of mine once told me that most relationships are based on “mutual benefit.” Give a little, take a little. Compatibility. Common interests. And I think there is wisdom in seeing relationships as tangible, because the reality is that unconditional love is a rare find, outside of the love Jesus has for His children.

Yes, I love my kids unconditionally. But one child has already cut me off because she didn’t like a thing I did. Yes, I love my parents unconditionally. But even they have limits. And yes, I love my spouse unconditionally. But there are a few things he could do that would affect our relationship such that I have to place conditions on it.

So on this Earth, we are all just a jumbled mess of anxious, but unique, humans who are biologically inclined to find our people. And some of us have…uh…very few people.

My relationship with my husband is what I would consider healthy. We bicker. We have differing interests in some ways. We are alike in others. I think he is wise and patient and understanding. I don’t have to prove to him that I’m worth something. And I can say whatever I want without fear of being slapped with divorce papers. I am certain it is much more difficult for him to tolerate me than it is for me to tolerate him. I’ve never felt more comfortable with another person. And how rare it is to find someone who has seen every version of me – the good, the bad, the really ugly – who chose to stay. A long-lasting relationship has room for two people. Two voices. Two sets of needs. Two perspectives. Two personalities. Two sets of boundaries. And neither person should have to disappear so the relationship can survive.

And that epiphany has really gutted me. I don’t have any friends. But I do make up one half of a few relationships that have always been important to me. I am a daughter. A sister. And a mom.

As a daughter, my responsibilities are different than they were 30 years ago. I still love my parents. We talk regularly. But I’m not confined to blind obedience. Likewise, they are not obligated to me financially or emotionally.

As a sister, I am as present as any invitation allows. But I can say fairly confidently that there is obvious distance in each of those relationships. It is possible that I have made too many mistakes to salvage those relationships. It is also possible that I am far too sensitive to withstand the roasting that inevitably comes with my past choices. And it is equally possible that we are all adults now, with our own families, and constant communication just isn’t a priority.

And as a mom, I am in uncharted territory…and wading really deep water in the safest way I possibly can…because my “role” as a mom has morphed into something I do not recognize. When my kids were little, they relied on me for the basics. I could assert my authority when disagreements occurred. I could assign consequences when a rule wasn’t followed. And now, all of that has changed. The focus is no longer guidance. The focus is no longer provision. And I’ll be honest – I spent the majority of my kids’ childhood sacrificing my own goals, my own needs, my own desires, my own plans, so that my kids could have more, do more, and be more. I don’t expect either of them to recognize it, but at this point, I’m still trying to navigate my relationships with my daughter and son. I’m trying to figure out where I end and they begin. I’m trying to figure out how much I am still required to sacrifice, as their mom, while still allowing myself a certain amount of prioritized, individual care. I’m trying to figure out what exactly is required of me now that they’re grown. How many more goals do I need to put off if they request financial support? How many times do I let a smart mouth slide before I actually set a boundary? How often should I make myself available for their emergencies, as opposed to letting them sit in the consequences of their lack of preparation? It is a slippery slope, and it’s driven me so crazy that I catch myself grinding my teeth intermittently throughout the day. Because I don’t expect that either of my kids should or even can have life figured out yet. They’re still so young. At the same time, I realize that bending to their every whim might also not be in their best interest, because adults – for the most part – need to be self-sufficient in order to live a fulfilling life. And I am inherently independent because I learned how to take care of myself – financially, at the very least – as a teenager. And I used to think that was an unfortunate trait, learned only because nobody in my life was supportive or dependable. But now? If everyone in my life walked away, I know I’d be okay. And that’s sort of beautiful in a twisted way. And as I have effectively become a safe space for my kids, when am I allowed to step back and say, “Sorry, I already have plans,” or, “I don’t have $100 to spare right now,” or, “I’m happy to do [insert thing here], but I cannot do [insert their request here].” My role as a mom will always exist. The duties assigned to that role? I still have no idea.

And at any rate, even my relationships with my kids shouldn’t be “all about them.” I think that mentality is dangerous if carried into adulthood in the long term. My point is that all relationships should be two sided. Parent-child relationships included…especially once the child reaches adulthood.

I don’t want to be in relationships where conflict cannot exist. I want relationships that are strong enough to withstand conflict. I want to be able to say what is on my mind and still know that love hasn’t disappeared from the room. And in return, I want to offer that same safety. I want people to know that they do not have to shrink in order to receive love from me.

And I don’t want the kind of peace that exists because someone is afraid to speak. I want the kind that exists because we both know it is safe to speak.