advice vs. helpful words
28/12/11 09:36![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bronze_ribbonsOver the past month, I've glimpsed tense exchanges in threads hither and thither in reaction to comments perceived as unsolicited advice. (I'm trying to phrase that observation carefully, because at times, there seemed to be different paradigms for both "unsolicited" and "advice" among the parties involved.) So this caught my eye yesterday:
http://www.fluentself.com/blog/stuff/advice-giving-mode-vs-helper-mouse-mode
(For what it's worth, I'm still pondering it. Because while Havi's post spells out for emotional semi-literates like me why advice raises people's hackles, I need to process for myself my resistance to the helper mouse alternatives. [I know some of it is because of past encounters with emotional vampires and my ongoing cagematch with overcommitment, such that directly asking "How can I help you?" seems to me tantamount to unbuttoning my collar and saying, "Here, guzzle away." I also have a fair amount of baggage from people who asked "How can I help?" and then didn't help [because the things I asked for were apparently too inconvenient or unglamorous or whatever] -- which is to say, I don't want to do that to other people in turn, so I no longer make blanket offers of assistance. [Doesn't mean I think myself too good for scut work; it just means I've become careful about what I promise, because it's a really awful feeling when one can't deliver.]
...In short, I'll need to poke past the examples to figure out what could work for me, when someone has my ear and is waiting for an engaged, non-condescending response. [Honestly, there are times when I wish all y'all lived just a neighborhood or two away. I tend to do better when I can resort to hugs and ice cream sandwiches instead of talking.])
* * *
Still cursing my clogged lungs, but I did do a fair amount of cooking at the start of this week. For Christmas dinner, I prepared oyster-beansprout pancakes, sea scallops with cauliflower two ways, and cider mulled with rum. For Boxing Day brunch, I made shakshouka, and for dinner, couscous. The upside to not being well enough to sing in lessons & carols on Christmas Eve was being free to join friends for homemade pizza.
* * *
After reading the recent NYT piece on Ezra Jack Keats, I borrowed a bunch of his books from the library. There is so much to see in Dreams -- I especially like the spreads that show the different goings-on in Robert's apartment building, through its windows, and how Keats's choice to vary from spread to spread how many windows are shown.
http://www.fluentself.com/blog/stuff/advice-giving-mode-vs-helper-mouse-mode
(For what it's worth, I'm still pondering it. Because while Havi's post spells out for emotional semi-literates like me why advice raises people's hackles, I need to process for myself my resistance to the helper mouse alternatives. [I know some of it is because of past encounters with emotional vampires and my ongoing cagematch with overcommitment, such that directly asking "How can I help you?" seems to me tantamount to unbuttoning my collar and saying, "Here, guzzle away." I also have a fair amount of baggage from people who asked "How can I help?" and then didn't help [because the things I asked for were apparently too inconvenient or unglamorous or whatever] -- which is to say, I don't want to do that to other people in turn, so I no longer make blanket offers of assistance. [Doesn't mean I think myself too good for scut work; it just means I've become careful about what I promise, because it's a really awful feeling when one can't deliver.]
...In short, I'll need to poke past the examples to figure out what could work for me, when someone has my ear and is waiting for an engaged, non-condescending response. [Honestly, there are times when I wish all y'all lived just a neighborhood or two away. I tend to do better when I can resort to hugs and ice cream sandwiches instead of talking.])
Still cursing my clogged lungs, but I did do a fair amount of cooking at the start of this week. For Christmas dinner, I prepared oyster-beansprout pancakes, sea scallops with cauliflower two ways, and cider mulled with rum. For Boxing Day brunch, I made shakshouka, and for dinner, couscous. The upside to not being well enough to sing in lessons & carols on Christmas Eve was being free to join friends for homemade pizza.
After reading the recent NYT piece on Ezra Jack Keats, I borrowed a bunch of his books from the library. There is so much to see in Dreams -- I especially like the spreads that show the different goings-on in Robert's apartment building, through its windows, and how Keats's choice to vary from spread to spread how many windows are shown.
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