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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Ammi Midstokke: The incredibly isolating skill of doing all the things

Ammi Midstokke is a columnist for The Spokesman-Review writing about living off the grid. (The Spokesman-Review / SR)
By Ammi Midstokke The Spokesman-Review

Somewhere between helpless dependence and sociopathic isolation lies what I can only assume is the collaboration of a healthy marriage. I ought to get more clear on this, seeing as I’m headed down the proverbial aisle in a few months.

Until now, my fierce independence could have been often mistaken for some kind of backwoods brand of feminism, though I would argue any feminizing I did came out of necessity. The last time my chimney pipe clogged, trust me, I called the boy neighbors for aid, but they were all predisposed until it was time to stand below me in the snow and holler advice in my general direction.

In such times, I am grateful for the ‘figure-it-out’ parenting style in which I was raised. It’s why I can make such a delicious grilled cheese and tuna sandwich. Or anything with hot dogs as the main ingredient. It is also why I know how to change the oil in generators, make tea from wild plants and dig my car out of the snow.

It may also be why I have intimidated partners along the way as they tried to figure out where in my life they might be of use. “I can do anything,” had become a kind of mantra that could be easily exchanged with, “Get out of my way.”

But doing everything is really tiresome. Especially because I don’t know how to do everything and I often either have to learn, use duct tape and baling wire, or embrace the kind of innovative thinking that spawns personal injury and ER visits.

What I am coming to understand is, not all of us are good at all the things all the time. Thus, it might well behoove us to find someone who is rather good or even merely adequate at those things we loathe or are just plain lousy. In new-age manuals on love and romance, I believe they refer to this as “synergy” or, if you’ve been in therapy as long as I, “bonding.”

My fear of being bonded runs as deep as my fear of being accidentally served decaffeinated coffee. These are basically existential threats. Being dependent on someone is obviously not only weak, but also vulnerable (the only word dirtier than “bonding”).

It would be fair to say that many of us have been in situations where our vulnerabilities were used to inflict harm rather than assure our safety and trust. A booming self-help industry and ever-updating version of the diagnostic manual for mental health is affirmation of this reality.

So when my husband-to-be comes home and says he’d like to plow, or cleans the trash out of my car, or deices the stairs, I think, “What does he want?”

“I want no one to break their neck when using the stairs,” he would say, as if things were that simple.

It turns out, they kind of are. In fact, far fewer visitors have to sign waivers because of his safety upgrades around the home (and because my dad insisted on putting a railing on my stairs). I have also discovered that letting someone else chop wood or clean ashes out of the stove does not mean I am suddenly rendered incapable of completing these tasks and now doomed to a life of grateful servitude. It means I might catch up on laundry (or some other less gender-appropriated task) or take more naps.

While the learning process is slow and grueling, it would appear that relationships are not necessarily a socially acceptable means of indentured cohabitation, but rather a pleasant way to make life a little easier. Sometimes that is in the mere act of commiserating. Sometimes it’s found in thankfulness that someone brought you coffee in bed, just because.

Sure, we can try to do all the things all the time, but why would anyone want to?

Ammi Midstokke can be contacted at ammimarie@gmail.com