You did not complain

I read an interesting article last week in the Australian Financial Review about Gen X.

Written by psychologist Clare Rowe, it explored the emotional, financial and family pressures the generation are facing, particularly Gen X women.

Many, she notes “are navigating the physical and psychological effects of menopause, while also reassessing careers or managing the fallout of long-term relationships that have broken down”. Not to mention parenting dependent kids while also supporting ageing parents.

It’s a lot. 

I love a good Gen X story and this one contained a few paragraphs that really struck a chord. 

Rowe writes: “Part of what shapes this cohort is how they were raised. Many in Generation X were the so-called latchkey kids. They came home to empty houses, let themselves in, made their own food and got on with things until a parent returned.

“There was very little oversight by today’s standards. No tracking apps, no constant check-ins and certainly no expectation that an adult would be across every moment of their day. Independence was not something they chose, it was simply expected.

“That experience produced a particular mindset. You did not complain. You managed what was in front of you. You did not expect much attention and you did not ask for it.

“Those traits have served this generation well in many respects – but they also help explain why the pressure they are under is so often overlooked.”

I do my fair share of complaining, but mostly to close friends and rarely to the person who has caused the angst. I manage what is front of me. I do not expect much attention. 

The problem with managing is that you continue to quietly carry the burden after it becomes too heavy.

As Rowe concludes: “The absence of noise should not be mistaken for the absence of need.”

Being part of that silent middle generation means I hate to make a fuss.

When I do find the courage to speak up, I add wry Gen X humour to the equation. I think to try and avoid being perceived as a boring whiner, but it has the consequence of making light of my problems.

As a result, I often wish I hadn’t said anything at all, because it can feel like my concerns, fears, stresses or physical issues are not understood, heard or taken seriously. 

I am still furious – years later – that issues with my hip were dismissed by my former doctor as “normal wear and tear”. I immediately doubted myself and my pain. I meekly made the physio appointment she suggested, rather than speaking up and questioning whether frayed tendons were normal in someone who wasn’t doing intense physical activity.

It took the physio being shocked by my MRI report and saying my hip was too badly damaged for him to treat for me to finally feel validated to find help.

I was so burned by the doctor’s dismissal that I didn’t go back to a GP for years. Now I’m finally taking charge of my health and trying harder to believe in myself. 

I still need to get better at speaking up when I’m struggling and doing it in a way that resonates with the person I am telling.

How about you? Are you good at speaking up?

Song of the day: Thompson Twins “Doctor, doctor”