Try to help Grandpa come to grips with daughter, family moving away
Dear Carolyn: We have a very close family, which is great. Our daughter and her husband have two young daughters and built a house right behind our house. They have lived there for six years, since before their girls were born.
The house is on a six-lane highway, and now they want to move. I completely understand this. They have found a house on a lovely, quiet street where many of their friends live with children their girls’ ages.
My husband cannot or will not see why they would want to move away from us. He does not see the positives for them and thinks it would be a huge mistake. I don’t think it is a mistake, but even if it is, it is theirs to make. They are in their 30s and have wonderful jobs.
I’m afraid he will be so hurt and disappointed that he will cause a rift in our family. Yes, I know he is being selfish and controlling, but what do you suggest to lessen his reaction?
— Close As so many of us do without realizing it, your husband probably mounted this “selfish and controlling” reaction to cover feelings he’d rather not feel. Pain of loss, fear of being forgotten, discomfort with change and its pesky subtexts: the passage of time, irrelevance, death.
So please don’t let his arguments distract you, and don’t counter them with your (valid) points about the benefits of quiet streets or this couple’s prerogative to decide for themselves.
Instead, address the pain directly. Address the fear and discomfort. Identify with him, with compassion.
“I’m sad about this, too — even though I understand it.”
“They’re rejecting a busy street, not rejecting us.”
“It’s a big adjustment for me, too.”
Say these in response to his objection, regardless of whether they make sense. He says, “They’re making a mistake!” You say, “I’m going to miss them, too.” Hug him, if he’ll accept one.
Give his feelings a name and a place to howl out of earshot from your daughter and her family. Give him the security of being understood, an ideal foundation on which to build a new normal for him.
If he’s still too angry, stubborn or scared to cooperate, then remain calmly supportive of this couple, always leaving your husband room to come around.
Dear Carolyn: I have a colleague who’s fairly new to the office, and I’m struggling to find ways to continue being polite to him.
The guy has the unfailing ability to turn any conversation into an excruciating monologue. The Talker walks into my office, ignoring that I’m working, and launches into endless stories that only give rise to more stories.
I’ve never heard him ask anyone else how they’re doing. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed The Talker allow anyone else to utter a full sentence without interrupting and talking over that person.
Yesterday, while I was chatting with another colleague about sports, The Talker inserted himself into the discussion, muscled out my other colleague and set off on a rambling soliloquy about his favorite team. I got onto an elevator and The
Talker was still jabbering at me as the doors closed between us.
The Talker isn’t a bad guy. Just really inattentive. I’d like to find a way to shush him without hurting his feelings.
— Talked to Death
in Baltimore I suspect The Talker has a neurological backstory, though neither of us is in a position to diagnose that.
I bring it up nevertheless because we tend to take less offense, and therefore respond more usefully, to people we see as unable to do something vs. unwilling. We also like them a whole lot better.
Besides, there’s really no downside to treating your colleague as if he is unable to read social cues, since you’re not building a life with him. You’re just getting a job done and getting the heck on the elevator.
When dealing with people who can’t read subtle cues, be progressively less subtle — though never less kind — until you hit the point where he gets it. Or just cut straight to: “Wait, wait, wait, I’m interrupting you. I’m working and can’t talk right now.”
Follow that with, pleasantly: “I have work to do so I’m escorting you out of my office. Perhaps another time for your story.” Then you stand by the door until he goes out, closing it behind him. (Substitute earbuds for door in the cubicle version.)
Since the alternative is fleeing the scene every time he steps onto it, this calm and clear assertiveness is more mindful of his feelings. It’s more polite, I would argue, than letting him talk unabated and suffering the fallout from that.