Seesaw

My sister invited me to play on a seesaw with her. I was about six. She was about nine. We bobbed up and down happily for a few minutes. The sky was blue with a few puffy clouds. A cool breeze made the warm day enjoyable. Then I saw her expression as she came to a stop while sitting on the bottom end. She smiled at me the way she did right before punching me. She held down the handle as she slid off the seat. She pushed up and down on the handle to jolt me and loosen my grip, and to let me know what was coming. I protested–I was suspended at least six feet off the ground–but she let go anyway. I came down with a thud even though I tried to break my landing with my feet. I lay stunned on my back as Sis made a discrete retreat. She glanced around to see if any adults had seen what she’d done. I got up slowly once my breath returned. I trudged over to Mom and told her what had happened, but my sister only got a mild reprimand. I decided, from that moment on, to never ride on a seesaw with her again.

I’ve followed that rule throughout my life. If a friend tricked or betrayed me more than once, I put distance between myself and him. (I hated the surprise of discovering how little I meant.) Sometimes, if the offenses truly stung, I chose to end relationships without saying a word. I figured that someone who had little concern about my wellbeing deserved no notification. I felt a sense of power in refusing to be anyone’s long term patsy. But major and minor treacheries piled up over the years, and I began to expect bad behavior to eventually enter into most situations.

This became a prison after a while. I couldn’t relax around people while scanning them for bad motives. I couldn’t enjoy praise or recognition while waiting for underlying motives to surface. The uncomplicated, innocent love of my children, of course, gave me periods of happiness and ease. A long-term marriage to a loving wife has been a refuge and deep comfort. But I still feel a sense of enclosure.

I went on a walk a few days ago and decided that I’d be happier if I took things as they come, that watching and worrying was draining life out of me. I decided to accept that things go up and down, that many things are beyond control.

I’ll probably take more unexpected hits, but the benefit of breathing more freely should offset the unpleasantness of nasty surprises. It won’t be easy to redirect a habit of fifty plus years, but I’ve decided to enjoy finding out what happens while I make the effort.