Uplifting

By Marcy Stenstrom

      It’s 12:30am. I’m feeding our new baby and reading post-partum books about taking care of baby and myself. One of the suggestions for relieving the obvious stresses of caring for a newborn is to make time to do a few things that you enjoy; like going out to your favorite place for coffee, reading a good book or talking to someone uplifting. On this final piece of advice, I got to thinking. Who would I call to be uplifted? My mind was nearly at a blank. I could only think of a few people who I would call to feel uplifted and right now my husband is under just as much stress as I am because of our new bundle of joy. So he’s out of that category and that narrows it down a bit. I talk occasionally with one of my dearest friends but she lives in Seattle. I have other friends with whom I share my grievances but often I’m their sounding board too for the difficulties in their lives. Perhaps this is why I never enjoyed talking on the phone. But after serious thought, the better question is this: am I uplifting to others?

      Would someone call me to be uplifted? Do I inspire others? This made me think about how I communicate and converse with my family and friends. It is because of my faith that I’d prefer to think of myself as an optimist. But I couldn’t help but feel that I’m sometimes the “Debbie Downer” and wallow in self-pity. I began to feel terrible that perhaps I’m not part of the solution but part of the problem. I love to complain. Of course I don’t call it complaining. I call it venting. My husband is a saint when it comes to his patience with me. He listens to what I have to say about absolutely everything because surely I have an opinion about everything and he’s going to hear about it. Most of the time he’s watching the tv or playing a video game at the same time so I suppose that is his way of dealing with me; tuning me out and just nodding his head, “Uh, huh.” And like all women, I think we’re okay with that because we just needed a pair of ears. Whether they actually heard what we said or not is irrelevant. As long as his head went up and down in agreement, we feel justified.

      But if I’m always venting about my sister’s personal life and Grandma’s dementia, I’m probably not uplifting anyone else. Since this early morning revelation, I sincerely have been trying to let go. I’ve been trying to let go for years now of anger and resentment towards various people in my life for not being perfect or living up to my standards. In that regard, I’ve been the one who is selfish and bringing others down. I’m quick to forgive but I do not

forget. This lack of forgetting keeps me from being uplifting. This is my new work in progress. For years, I’ve been writing these grievances in what I call my penance journal. It helps me to vent without having to bring it up to anyone else. Perhaps it’s time for me to devote more time to myself and the journal so that I can leave it there and be uplifting instead of being the downer.