Attention Starved – My Boo-Boo
I just had hernia surgery. It was the first surgery I’ve had in my adult life and the first time I’ve had to spend that much time in a hospital-type facility. I was home the same day, and I knew I was going to be laid up for at least a week from work, and recovery was going to take at least a month. I knew I was going to ask for a lot of help for a while because I can’t pick anything up for risk of strain on the incision. As far as surgeries go, it was cut and dry. For me, it was a bigger deal.
The truth is, I was looking forward to it.
Granted, I have a job where I do not have prescribed holiday or vacation days and I end up working all the time. The surgery demanded I be at home for at least one week, and even though I would be in pain, I didn’t have to think about work for a little while. But that’s not the reason I was looking forward to it. I knew I was going to get attention. My wife would have to take care of me. I would be special for a few days. My loved ones would show their concern. I wouldn’t have to poke and prod for a few days to get attention; I would be getting it automatically for a while. I’m still in a little pain, and I’m still happy I had the surgery.
As I stated before, I grew up attention-starved. I didn’t get anywhere near what my brain required, so, I’ve been trying to fill that cup ever since. I’m forty-seven years old. I still haven’t filled it. I know, deep down in my gut, that it will never be filled. I am, and will remain, a guy who always needs attention. It’s a little sad, but there it is.
Do you know I still get excited for Christmas morning? I switched years ago from enjoying the giving more than the getting. (That may sound ludicrous to some, but once you’ve made the switch, you understand.) Still, every year, a tiny little voice inside my head is waiting for a surprise. If you knew my wife, you would know how ridiculous that is. She’s not a Christmas person and I run the holidays around here. All Christmas gift giving runs through me. There simply are very few surprises. But occasionally, I get one. That’s enough to keep that little voice going year after year. A surprise is a dopamine shot to the attention-starved.
Someone thought of me.
I remember a few years back, when all the kids were still home, I had a birthday. My birthday is often the same day as Father’s Day, so I get a combined deal which is okay by me. Well, the entire day came and went, and I didn’t get anything from anyone. Not a ‘Happy Birthday’, or a hug or an I.O.U. ‘Because I’m broke’. A lot of people in that position would be just fine. I’m attention-starved. This was like a punch in the gut. I also learned in my life that playing the martyr is a gigantic waste of time and energy, so I spoke up in front of my wife and children. I was pissed. I made it very clear that we live in a house that acknowledges holidays and birthdays, and these gestures are important. I honestly didn’t care if they agreed with me or not. I wasn’t going without my yearly dose of Father’s Day attention again, especially since I’m not a shitbag father.
My attention diet is so lean now. We are all on phones so much that it’s tough for me to get enough. I use my phone to extend beyond my personal space to grab attention. I might get some with a text or a Facebook post. I might get a little with this blog. I also know that I have learned that I enjoy private time with no attention. Life has trained me to open and close those doors as needed, and that is a relief. At least there is some rest. The truth is, I have to accept it and stop judging myself about the whole thing. (The answer to a lot of my problems.) I’m that guy. I need attention from you and I’m willing to take the bare minimum at this point. I use it as energy and then I go out and find some more. It’s a little depressing and it’s also a little funny, too. Like me.