Restaurant Realization with Long-Term Ramifications

One of the concepts emphasized in my counselor education program is the idea of accepting people (students, clients, colleagues, etc.) where they are. It's a focus that requires an awareness of one's expectations, values, assumptions, needs, likes, and dislikes, etc.

In my understanding of this principle, my goal in interpersonal communication and counseling strategies is to remain open to what that person may be thinking, feeling, or doing... and nonjudgmental in my approach to identifying concerns or providing constructive feedback.

This same principle can be applied in non-counseling situations. It's something I've tried to incorporate into my general awareness and personal perspective daily. Of course, some days I'm more successful than others.

Today, for example, I was not successful. Andy, Ari, and I had lunch together in between my morning and afternoon school obligations, and Ari was immediately elated to see me. (And I her.)

We chatted happily, gave each other kisses, and talked about how much we missed one another. We talked about what she and Daddy had done that morning, and she excitedly tried to tell me all the things she had saved up in my absence in which she wished I could have been included or that she wanted to be sure I knew about.

We sat down in the restaurant and colored, talked about what she might want to eat for lunch, and played and snuggled as Ari bounced around from activity to activity - clearly motivated by happiness, excitement, and the desire to explore.

All was going well until the food arrived. It was at this point Ari's enthusiasm and my desire to stay stain-free for my return to school collided. (And, as often happens, each of our perspectives/behaviors were based on past events: Ari had been struggling with sadness all week and was truly thrilled to see me in the middle of a "work day;" I had been peed on a week or two prior during a similar lunch date and had to return to a professional development conference with urine-stained pants.) Our past was influencing our present. This is where we were.

Ultimately, Ari did a better job accepting me where I was than I did for her. She wasn't angry about my absence throughout the week. She wasn't sad, sullen, or withdrawn - despite having missed me so desperately. She simply wanted to be close - to talk and interact - and to suck up every possible moment of our time together.

I, however, began to get frustrated by her excited and increasingly spastic energy. We told her to use an inside voice; I warned her to be careful on the bench lest she fall down; I asked her to be careful when eating food off my fork, to wait for me to help her with getting food and ice; etc. I noticed my happiness wane and my anxiety increase every time she jostled my arm, the food missed her mouth and fell down toward my lap, or she played with her environment... afraid her bouncy state might leave me stained or somehow marred.

I prioritized my clothing above my daughter... and I did not accept her where she was. Rather than noticing how gleeful and filled with love she was to see me, I instead worried about a potential accident and what affect it might have or how others might see me upon my return to school.

Silly. Unfair. And kind of a waste of time and a lost opportunity to revel in the unbridled excitement of a 2-year old who still thinks I'm one of the most important and special people in the whole world.

My task now: To accept myself where I am, rather than beating myself up about it. To learn from the situation with gratitude and humility. To use this opportunity as a means to growth, allowing me to hopefully change it in the future.