My new CNA said she could look around my home and from that she knows all she needs to know about me. She has zero interest in fish, frogs, or anything but the art. She has dismissed me. She can look at me and “tell who I am.” With an expression she called me proper and spoiled.
She doesn’t want to talk to me. She said she doesn’t know what to talk about. I said there are a hundred prompts in this room, choose one and ask a question. To her they are just old things with no value. To me, these old things represent what I wasn’t getting. To hear her speak so disparagingly about my things and say it’s “boring” was really triggering.
I have always been drawn to antiques but not necessarily for the monetary value. I am drawn to it’s story, whether I know its story or not. The thing is, someone loved it. I personally never knew what it felt like to be loved until 2009. So I seemed to surround myself with second hand items that surely hold years of life observations or active participation. I imagine that they hold years of love. I craved love so badly.
My tea cups date back to 1945 which puts them at the end of World War 2. How many of these hand painted tea cups saw how the world forever changed, again, from war? How many tables did they adorn? I used to use them during small tea parties but I’ve since put them on display, up high. I don’t want to break these delicate pieces of art and history.
I recently purchased a handmade tea pot. What are the stories written in the now crazed glaze painted on 50 years ago? The inside was so clean. No tea residue or signs that it had ever been loved with tea leaves and water. I felt sorry for it and began to see myself in it. The tea pot seemed like me in that it was created to live (leaves and water) but 50 years down the line the opportunity to do so still hadn’t presented itself. I wanted to use it right away, get her broken in. Let her do what she was born to do.
I thought a lot about this tea pot of mine. In doing so it occurred to me that the previous family owner may have seen value in its earth tones and small stature. Maybe the pot was put on display and not used because they valued it, just as I do my tea cups.
This CNA has been here for 3 days. There is no way she can have me figured out let alone dismiss me as irrelevant. And I will not allow my personal value to take another hit because she won’t see my worth. She ignored me, too. My God, she ignored me! She has been so dismissive and condescending that I was doing the ugly cry. My eyes swelled shut. It was horrible. Now I can see a little better and think a little clearer. I can separate some of my issues triggered yesterday. And I can see that everything she said and saw is based on her own reality; based on her history, of which I know nothing.
Where do we go from here? I feel like we’ve got fragile tea cups and a fragile owner with a CNA acting like ‘a bull in the China shop.’ These two realities do. not. mix.