It was raspberry jam, as I recall…
The jar was almost empty, and it had gotten shoved to the back of the refridgerator. The lid was cranked down on that jar so tightly that it could not be opened easily, and stayed firmly closed in spite of various attempts. Putting jam on a biscuit should not be this difficult for anyone. Frustration built quickly; this was the third, possibly fourth idea for a sweet bite in the evening, after dinner, and where the others failed due to lack of some ingredient, this was failing over… a jam jar. There didn’t appear to be any other jam in the house, either (although it would later turn out that tiny holiday jams were available, too, they were not cold, and they were not visually obvious to someone who did not know they were there). Cupboards slammed. Tempers flared. An evening’s pleasant quiet was broken.
…This wasn’t about the jam. That’s where it got tricky, actually, this was about the lack of consideration for someone expecting to be cared for, lack of accommodation of known disabilities, and lack of awareness. That’s what the anger was about.
Sometimes it’s really difficult to keep the needs of other people clearly in mind. Consideration is one of the toughest of my relationship values; it forces me out of my head and demands that I be present, aware of others, and considering our shared (and individual) needs more or less continuously. That jam jar didn’t get shoved into the back of the refridgerator intentionally; it was a thoughtless act. The last person to close that jar probably didn’t crank that lid down like that deliberately, which ultimately required considerable effort to get that jar open, they likely were not even thinking about what they were doing in that moment. As the jam got used, no one thought to put it on the grocery list, and so we ran out, resulting in a minimal portion of jam remaining, in a jar that couldn’t be opened by the woman with arthritis in her thumbs (or my Traveling Partner), barely enough to amount to a serving, difficult to get at it in the first place, and the result was hurt feelings, frustration, and seething anger when it was clear that other members of the household were simply not getting what the fuss was about. What the reaction excessive? Yeah, probably. Almost certainly. Here’s the thing, though; everyone in the house is aware of familiar with each other’s disabilities. The expectation – and it has been made explicit (we’ve talked about it as a family a lot) – is that we are each considering those limitations, and accounting for them in our daily actions. That didn’t happen, and it derailed a lovely evening as a result.
Eventually, things settled into a more harmonious state. The jam got restocked when I next went shopping, and reminders were given all around to put things on the shopping list when the last of anything is opened (rather than waiting for it to run out completely – maybe that wasn’t clear enough, previously). Room was made on a shelf in the refridgerator door to hold the currently-open jar of jam, for easier access. Steps were taken to put things right. It’s important that this jam over jam isn’t misunderstood, though – because it wasn’t about the jam. It was about the lack of consideration, the lack of care, and the implied disrespect involved in those, and if that isn’t clear it is very likely that some similar jam over something other than jam may erupt at some future time and place for all the same reasons.
…Hell, I’ve thoughtlessly set myself up for failure in a very similar way, simply by not paying attention to what I was doing in the moment, and dealing with the consequences of my own lack of consideration, later…
I have sometimes been accused of being “overly considerate” (no kidding, some people will find reason to criticize anything, even things that work in their favor). I don’t happen to agree; I manage to persist in sometimes failing to consider some important detail, implying I am as yet still not sufficiently considerate enough of the time. I keep practicing. It’s not the easiest thing to open a refridgerator to put away groceries, and while doing so consider whether each item is where the person most likely to want it will easily find it and be able to reach it. It’s not the easiest thing to tidy up with an eye on the next person to use that thing – or that space. It requires presence, and awareness. It may require clarifying questions (“Hey, if I put the jam here on this shelf, can you reach that?”). It will surely require me to step outside myself and try to see things from the perspective of some other person. Doing this well begins with Theory of Mind, and it’s rather unfortunate that a great many adults fail to use the full measure of their capacity to understand someone else’s experience or perspective, resulting in a lot of chaos, heartache, frustration, and anger.
We are each having our own experience. We each follow our own path. We each understand words based on our own internal dictionary, and tend to reflect on our experiences through the lens of…our own experiences. Although we are “all in this together”, humanity’s shared journey is being taken by individuals who not only don’t read minds, they barely understand their own sometimes, and there is no “user’s guide”. It’s a puzzle. I keep practicing.
I sip my coffee on a quiet Sunday morning. The rest of the house sleeps. I’m astonished that I managed to wake up, wash my face and brush my teeth, make coffee and then move things around in my studio/office space to comfortably write at my computer, while I wake up. This feels like a major win. I’m fortunate that my sinuses feel pretty clear, and I didn’t wake with a cough. Am I finally really over the recent bout of flu? Well that “only” took four weeks – I’m grateful it wasn’t worse.
I sip my coffee and think about jam. Funny, this whole jam over jam was days ago. It stuck with me because I continued to turn it over in my head. The conversation. The emotions. The underlying factual details. The interwoven relationships and the expectation-setting. The actions, reactions, and over-reactions. The course-correction, and careful mending of hurt feelings. It felt to me like there was a lot more to learn from this than the obvious lesson, which initially seemed to be “put shit on the grocery list before it completely runs out”, but I knew it was more nuanced than that, and I kept thinking it over. I woke this morning, thinking about jam – and also thimble cookies, and raspberry bars, and coffee cakes with a jam swirl in the middle, and biscuits fresh from the oven, warm and ready for jam. I chuckle to myself wondering if thoughts of delicious baked goods are the cognitive reward for “doing my homework”? lol
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely Sunday morning. I’m ready to begin again.
Evening Light 