What Do You Need?

It's a complicated question, isn't it?

Some weeks are drowning weeks, aren’t they? This week, it feels like so many of my loved ones are underwater, and I want to throw them a life preserver, but then I realize that it’s a difficult task to throw someone a life preserver when one is underwater herself. Weeks like this make me examine my complicated relationship with complaining. Oh, shut up to those of you who are like, “Complicated? It seems pretty straightforward. You love complaining.” I mean, you have a point, fake peanut gallery: I do sort of love complaining. Mostly because it’s a pressure valve (oh hey, I bet that’s why I enjoy profanity so much, too, huh?) that’s effective and generally not harmful to release.

I’ve always encouraged people to be honest and open and real with me; I hate small talk and I also hate false brightness. I think sharing our truths is the path out of the pain (through it, rather), and shaming ourselves into gratitude is rarely effective. I tell my kids the same—your problems are real and valid, even if someone else is struggling more than you are. Like, if you’re sad about your broken arm, I’m not going to click my tongue and point to the amputee the next aisle over (Too far?).

But. There’s a limit, and I have felt acutely aware of the perspective of others’ this week, of the magnitude of their suffering compared to my own. To be honest, I am also sick and tired of hearing my kids’ shit, and I think a gratitude practice is a seriously fantastic and impactful ritual. To balance out any proclivity for complaining, I am also cheerleading the fuck out of myself lately: “You are strong, you will be okay, you are doing a great job.” I self-talk like a pro, whispering, “Hey, doll, even if the only thing you really crush today is that you remembered tomorrow is trash day, that’s worth celebrating.”

I was unabashedly shout-venting to a best friend while driving home in the rain tonight, and she asked me, simply, what I needed. It was a tough question. I feel like I need so many things right now: someone to make dinner for me, an administrative assistant to send all the annoying emails for me, a massage, a fucking hug. But I told her the truth: what I really needed was to know that I could completely unload on her, let my bitch flag fly without worrying that my complaining was petty or unimportant or made me sound mean.

Sometimes it’s hard to know what it is we really need.

So for today’s bonus column, I’m going to share the things that worked this week, and the things that, tragically, did not.

One thing that worked: This badass outfit I got from Cider (yes, yes, I took a major risk and succumbed to a FB ad that was so clearly targeted to my unique style and this time, friends, it paid off bigtime) for $50 total! High waist, drawstring, wide-leg jeans and a jaunty autumnal pear vest? WINNING.