“A” is for Ambivalence?

Posted on by Victoria

My brain is funny. To me, anyhow.

Do you ever wake up with a thought that seems so off-the-wall that you can’t help but smile? A remnant from a dream? A phrase, a word, an image that lodges in your head, unwilling to escape when slumber ends and the waking begins?

That happened to me the other day. When the nuggets are useful, I chalk up the goodness to a nocturnal visit from my long-departed and beloved papa. Like a grown man sprinkling pixie dust over my head as I sleep, planting a thought that might help me during my waking hours. He does that every now and then, my burly Tinkerbell.

The latest offering?  Here it is…

“A” is for Ambivalence

I know, right? After my up sell about insight from my dad/Tinkerbell, you were expecting more, weren’t you?  Like a whole story. A meaningful lesson. An answer to a present-day conundrum with hard-earned advice, passed from one generation to the next.  Sonny style. 

Even when he was alive, my dad never painted the whole landscape when he offered advice. He’d look at me, acknowledging whatever ick I felt and very often that was good enough.  Being seen.

A well-chosen word was even better, but his gifts were always delivered with strings attached. No fancy bows or ribbons, just the reminder that I needed to do the work. Take his input or observation, use it. Ignore it. Either way. He’d walk away after planting a kiss on my head. His way of saying, “You’ve got this.”

But back to the “A” is for Ambivalence business… 

Whaaa?

It took me a moment to figure it out. I’d been wrestling with an issue with a friend recently because I held back. Didn’t lead, didn’t direct a conversation. It felt like the right thing to do under the circumstances. Sometimes being the responsible one stinks. A load I don’ t want to carry.

Just because I can be the “decider” of things doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I’ve learned to bite my tongue. Actually, no. Not a bite. I don’t have that much self-restraint. 😉 It’s more like light compression to keep my lips locked. Exercising patience.

 ”A” is for Ambivalence? I understood as soon as I stretched that morning, remembering what was on my mind as I fell asleep. I worried that my friend may have confused my slow response for disinterest. I did respond, giving a couple of non-verbals – a smile and a nod, followed by a hug. I just didn’t speak.

Does she know me well enough to receive my support without words, I wondered? She seemed to, but the look on her face was disappointment.  I hadn’t taken on her task. I heard her as I listened closely but offered no ‘next steps’. No series of possible solutions.

Not this time, I thought. This one’s for you. A growth moment for me in drawing a line of demarcation between my problem-solving ideas and her agency and effort. A squishy line, at that, because if she’d followed up with more of a plea for help, I may have caved. Spouted off my thoughts…I always have them.

Here’s to early morning messages…

Starting with the letter “A”.

Ambivalence. I never liked the word or the behavior. I’m the girl who wants to pick a position and hold it, not waver or wonder but in this context, my dilemma with a friend, ambivalence was a plus. A pocket of time to pause before doing “all the things”. A grace note…and I liked it.

Now I’m mulling over opportunities for other wisdom, one-word style from my papa. If I fall sleep tonight and ask for a little more…some late-night lagniappe…perhaps the insights will continue to come. Maybe not, but the thought of it makes me smile.

Vicki 😉

Verbal Guard Rail: Thanks, Dad!

39 thoughts on ““A” is for Ambivalence?”

  1. The lucidity between dream and awake is a wonderful state! How fun to have a visit of wisdom from your dad, Vicki. And I agree, sometimes keeping your lips locked is the most compassionate thing we can do for our loved ones and ourselves!

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  3. Exercising patience and help from your dear papa. So good. It’s so hard to change our programmed roles and responses. I smiled all the way through this one – not because of the situation, of course, but because of your openness to receive and the light touch from your burly Tinkerbell!! You’ve got this!! ❤ ❤ ❤

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  4. Tinkerbell on steroids with hairy arms and a halo sprinkling grace notes all over the planet in your head. We should all be so lucky! I have a friend who has not yet learned the art of lip-zipping, but I do so hope that one day she will. Which leads me to wonder—how many personal lip-zipping moments have I missed because I am too busy spouting off the opinions that spill out of my brain? Oy. ⁉️

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    1. Oh geez…please don’t ‘lip zip’ too much…I need all the Julia glimmers of goodness! Your comment made me smile and chuckle, my soul sister. Keep spouting, okay?! 💕💕💕

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  6. Love your burly Tinkerbell, it made me laugh. “Tink” was my husband’s grandmother’s nickname. She was a tiny woman and actually looked the part. As for zipping the lips, I’ve learned that role with my adult kids. I used to want to take the lead and solve their problems. Now I’m a good listener.

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    1. Oh…what a sweet nickname for your hubby’s grandma. I love it! Thanks for giggling with me about my burly Tinkerbell and cheers to learning that same lesson, again and again, about holding back. Not my natural state, but it’s sometimes the best move. xo, Elizabeth! 🥰

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  10. You certainly speak to me Vicki, ever the problem solver, shouldering responsibilities, trying to keep the lip zipped. Yes, I know what you mean. Good on you for not caving. Your dad, Sonny is a wise man. Even if just in your dreams now.
    Perhaps the ambivalence to get in there and solve it all allows us to create B for boundaries, which brings us to C. Caring for ourselves and others.

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    1. Oh my goodness!!!! Wait til you see tomorrow’s podcast clip and post! You, Wynne and I are in synch about what comes next! I love your “B” and “C” ideas. So good! Thank you so much for being a kindred one. I appreciate you! ❤️❤️❤️

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      1. Oooooh I can’t wait. That’s fabulous. Did I just jump to F while missing D and E. 🤣🤣🤣 I think you’ve started something here. Shall we keep it going? Would be fun to create posts around this. 💕

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  12. Debbie doesn’t like it when I am ambivalent, but there are truly some things I don’t have a strong opinion about. 😊

    The brain is the most incredible instrument. Who can explain why we suddenly retrieve a memory we haven’t thought about in decades?

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    1. I absolutely understand Debbie’s point…seems stronger to take a position, hold a point of view. Maybe it was a survival instinct? Thanks so much for your comment, Pete. I’m with you…the brain is amazing. 🥰

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  13. Pingback: Episode 70: “A” is For Ambivalence with Vicki and Wynne – The Heart of the Matter
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  15. I’ve never liked the word ‘ambivalence’ either but do find that ‘detachment’ offers the same way to distance yourself from people or ideas or situations but to do it more gracefully… at least that’s how I think of it in my mind. Rationalization or nuanced thinking? Maybe both! 😉

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  16. I understand the word ambivalence to be somewhat detached and uncaring.Do you really think that’s what your late father suggested you do in your description?

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    1. Hi there…thanks for your question. Knowing my dad, he intended it to be an encouragement to pause and ponder and take my time, rather than rush. 😉

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