- Share This Post
- submit
- 4
-
Sparkle (0)
I'll support you in anyway I can.
How can I support you?
You never support me.
Can I please have your support?
I hope I can count on your support.
Whether you're a voter or a political candidate (and of course some of us are both), chances are you've heard at least one of the above phrases, either uttered by a politician or a loved one.
Right?
Of course right.
But what do they - what do we - really want? What do any of us really want when we ask for and come to expect support from someone?
What does support really mean?
If you're like me, then you've learned that people often do not share the same vision of what they mean when they're asking for your support. The expectation might be higher, or lower. It might be something tangible, like money, or something far more subtle.
In my case, during my election, support for me has come to mean never having to say I'm sorry for not having folded the clothes. And my mutual support is folding a basketful of my husband's dress socks and realizing as I'm doing it that not once did he ever growl or complain about having a virtually empty sock drawer.
I know this may sound so 1950s, but anyone in a relationship should be able to relate to the fact that we do agree to certain divisions of labor. And that's fine. But under extraordinary circumstances, like having a full-time job, three kids, a home under construction and running for office, you know, something has gotta give and that something that gives? Allowing it to give, without freaking out? To me, that's support.
And then, there's support that comes in the form of not giving me the support everyone else thinks I need but rather only giving me what I say I need.
For example, in these last 648 hours before my campaign and the election is over, I confess and I know: I'm going to need all the support I can get. But here's an example from a few weeks ago of what I don't need: One of my kids started proofing one of my pieces of campaign literature and started to talk and tell me what he didn't like. I had to shoo him away and say, three times, a la Gwen Stefani, "This my s**t!" (and what's going on in the race is indeed bananas, but that's another post). Okay - I didn't curse at him, but that's what I was feeling inside.
This IS my stuff, and I have to make most of the decisions. It's a small race, a small town, there's no a manager of this, advisor of that, and on and on. It's just moi.
And that's fine, but then the buck stops with me - I cannot blame anyone else (and trust me, I've wanted to a few times already but it's just not an option - I'm the candidate, beginning, middle and end).
Yehhhhhht - making such a choice means carrying a huge burden, on top of my usual non-campaign-related responsibilities. And so knowing that I have..."support" becomes critical to survival.
And so it was that, over one weekend before the Jewish High Holy Days, I saw a laundry basket full of my husband's dress socks. And I went to his sock drawer, opened it up and smiled a curling my lip under smile in recognition of the drawer's emptiness and my routine neglect of the laundry (or delegation to my youngest two kids) during these final weeks before November 3.
And I realized that the best support my husband has been giving me has been the freedom to neglect chores here and there and either pick up the slack himself, or just let it go.
Again, if you've been in a relationship, chances are you know just how huge a support that can be.
How do you define support?
Read more:
From Momocrats: Baskin-Robbins sez: Support your candidate by eating him on a cone, with sprinkles
From Miteegirl: Red White & BLUE: But what can I DO?
Another Momocrats but worth the read: Run, Mama, Run
From See Jane Soar!: Healing Female Friendships - Michelle Obama
By the way, is it Denise's birthday yet? ;) Inside joke.
