I'm learning to teach

"You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce." That's a quote from Tony Gaskins, a life coach who has worked with college and pro athletes. I heard it from Joe Maddon on his Book of Joe podcast.

This little chapter began with the No Kings rally. My friend Nancy had been asking when we could get together. I know she's politically progressive and she used to live in my neighborhood, so it seemed like a good idea. She could come here for the rally and then we could have lunch. 

Nancy and her husband Paul met me by the WWI memorial. We listened to the speakers – or tried to; predictably, the mics didn't work very well. That's where it started. The speakers weren't very good. The crowd was too old and too white. As we marched through the village business district, Nancy complained that she could smell pot in the air. Everything was wrong, or bad, or insufficient.

She was like this all day. Grumpy, pissy, displeased. She even complained about the parking garage next to my apartment building because it's unattractive. "How long has that been here?" Twenty five years, at least. Really, I was happiest when we were eating lunch and she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

I tried to figure out why she was like this. Both she and her husband are out of work so maybe money's a concern. It was Father's Day weekend, so maybe she was missing her son. It's been almost four years since he died, but I bet holidays like Father's Day will always be painful. Or maybe ... or maybe ... or maybe ...

But here's the thing: Fond as I am of Nancy, I don't think she ever twists herself up like a pretzel trying to figure me out. I suspect she never worries about what motivates, hurts or hinders me. That revelation left me feel lonely. 

Then I puked. A couple days later, I was giving the living room/dining room a quick once over with vacuum cleaner before going downtown to meet Elaine. Suddenly I was nauseous. It surprised me, because while I have a sensitive gut I don't often throw up. I sipped some water and called Elaine, apologizing for cancelling on such short notice but telling her that I didn't feel comfortable going out so soon after vomiting. Her first, instinctive response? "Do you need anything?" How sweet is Elaine!

Then I heard Joe. "You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce." Somehow, when I heard Joe say it through my headphones, it really resonated. So I acted on it. I shot Elaine an email, thanking her for offering to help when I was ill. For always offering to help. For being Elaine. Her kindness – so spontaneous – should be acknowledged and reinforced. It felt good to do, and she appreciated it.

Then I went out to lunch with two ex-co-workers. Both Rita and my former art director talk to me often but never too each other, so I thought it would be nice if we had a little reunion. It's been two years since the three of us were in the same place at the same time.

Predictably, the two of them did most of the talking. As I say, it's been two years since they spoke. But when I finally tried to hold court, Rita began checking her phone. I could tell she was in a hurry to get home because she'd only paid for two hours of parking. I get it: she's a single working mom on a budget and downtown parking can be expensive. But I was hurt, too.

I mean, here are two women who profess to adore me. And I believe them. But at no point did either of them say, "How are you, Gal?" In fact, now that I think of it, when they call me, it's to call on me. It's when my art director is feeling lonely, or Rita needs career/personal advice. 

I heard Joe's voice in my head: "You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce." So I spoke up. I mentioned Elaine, and how much it meant to me that she offered to help, even before I could ask. I mentioned the drama of Violet's birth, and how I long to discuss it with Henry, whom I miss every day. Rita said she was sorry, that it was her fault she never sees past my "good boss energy." My art director said she hopes I'll be "kind to myself" and that I should call her any time. Then the three of us went our separate ways.

Four days later, the most extraordinary thing happened. Rita called me. Not because she was overwhelmed by family drama or feeling insecure professionally. No, she called because her little boy was with her ex for the night and she wanted to see how I am. 

My heart sang.

"You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce."  

Thanks, Joe (and Tony).