As a nerdy and bookish 4th grader, I read Richard Peck’s Don’t Look and It Won’t Hurt, a book about a “good girl” who is sent to a home for young mothers after becoming pregnant. The title is derived from the advice given to the girl about giving her child up for adoption: don’t look at the baby after you give birth, and it won’t hurt when they take it away.
The phrase has stuck with me over the years, you may have heard me drop it in passing. I like it because it’s total crap, but having such an unrealistic, oversimplifying game plan can be a great distraction from the weight of your problems. At least in my life, if I can manipulate myself into forgetting the consequences of my decisions, I can bridge the gap to the safety of losing recourse.
When I decided to end my college rowing career, my roommate advised me to turn in my issue gear to the training room before announcing my intentions. So, before going to meet with my coach I folded half my wardrobe, walked to the training room, and handed the attendant a bag full of clothing, #448 on all the tags. In her office, my coach caught me off guard by asking if I still loved the sport. It was a cheap shot in my opinion; of course I did… it was all I cared about for the last 6 years, and at the risk of sounding corny, all I really knew about myself. Being forced to think about the consequences of my decision on the spot left me terrified. I wanted to cave, I wanted to cry, I wanted to take back what I’d said, give her a hug, and thank her for the talk. But I had already turned in my gear. So instead, I looked her in the eye, told her the biggest lie of my life, and went home.
I think it was the right move and there’s no sense in entertaining the notion that it wasn’t, but I’m disappointed with my inability to stand by my decisions when faced with the consequences of them. I hate how uncomfortable I am with making big decisions…it means that the only time I make them is when someone has offended me horribly. I should work on turning in my issue gear first.
I feel sad today.
that is my method for needles, don’t look and maybe it won’t hurt as bad! of course it’s always a lie. but at least if i don’t see the needle i can imagine it’s a little one ;)
— Dawn Oct 31, 03:53 PM [link]Ha! I love this story.
When Sarah dumped me, she ‘turned in her gear’ first, too.
I’d have you look up disassociation disorder, butI’m sure you’re already familiar with it…
At least you’re hip. Sad is the new happy.
— Annie Nov 2, 06:31 PM [link]