Restraint

I've been thinking a lot lately about restraint. Maybe it's because MLK Day is approaching, and King's peaceful approach to political resistance epitomizes restraint.

Having a child has forced me to consider, with a cringe of embarrassment, all of the times that older, wiser people kept their mouths shut while I yammered on about something I was certain was gospel truth. In my arrogance I mistook their silence as passive, wondrous receptivity. Never did it occur to me that someone might be thinking, what a fool... ah, well, such is youth... she shall see. Worse, never did I realize that their silence was merciful, and that I might have had reason to be grateful for their kindness. Sometimes it takes years to realize the extent of people's kindness. Remember back when...? I was such an ass. Thank you for not crucifying me.

A member of my extended family (okay, it's my sister-in-law) thinks restraint is evidence of cowardice. She thinks her tendency toward hostile verbal incontinence makes her a thrilling, dynamic person. I fantasize about explaining to her, after (to quote Chris Rock) shaking the shit out of her, that the surest evidence of maturity, of having evolved as a human being, is restraint.

Restraint doesn't mean inaction. Campaigning for social change, but doing so nonviolently, as MLK and Ghandi did, demonstrates great restraint. In the ordinary-life sphere, actions like holding your tongue and just being there for a grieving friend; or going to bed when you know you need sleep, instead of staying up all night; or giving up on the need to have the last word in an argument, all demonstrate restraint. Allowing your mentally ill adult daughter to make some of her own life decisions, as one of my friends is doing, demonstrates Herculean restraint.

I have been practicing restraint regularly since my daughter was born. It's a big deal to know that you're in charge of writing someone's autobiography until the day she can assume authorship herself. Every word I say matters. Every emotional outburst matters. For the first time I'm aware of the power of my words to make or break someone else's view of herself (worthy of love?) and her home (safe?). Hence: lots and lots of restraint. And good practice for when she's a teenager, or so I hear.