PenPenWrites

If there’s one complaint that rears its head every post-holiday season it’s this: “Where’s my Thank You?” We’ve been generous to our grandkids–or grown kids–but there’s not a peep out of them about their appreciation for a carefully chosen cable-knit sweater or the always-useful cash (by check or Zelle or some other modern monetary form). It’s enough to make some of us feel we don’t want to give again.

Why does it irk us? And why do we often chalk it up to their bad manners, poor upbringing (on the part of the daughter in law) or inconsiderate behavior? Where’s the gratitude? Why can’t they take the time to let us know they like it or, at the very least, they’ve received our gift. The hurt feelings run deep. And that’s what therapist Lori Gottleib addresses in this NYT advice column.

The gist of Gottleib’s commentary is not so much about the writer’s grandsons (who have not acknowledged her generous gifts) but about the grandmother’s hurt feelings. The full column is worth reading. Here are excerpts:

• You’ve framed your grandsons’ behavior as a case of bad manners or moral failure, but I hear a yearning underneath. No matter how much we tell ourselves that gifts aren’t about reciprocity, the reality is that they often hold emotional significance in which both parties are essentially asking to be recognized. The giver wants acknowledgment of their thoughtfulness and investment, while the receiver wants confirmation that they’ve been truly seen. Both are essentially asking, “Do I matter?”
• When we don’t feel seen or appreciated, hurt feelings can disguise themselves as something else, like concern about good character or proper etiquette, because it’s easier to push pain outward than to say, “I feel unimportant to you.”
• Do you want thank-you notes, or do you want to feel more connected to and valued by this branch of the family? If it’s the former, you could issue an ultimatum (no thank-you notes equals no gifts), but I don’t think forced statements of gratitude are what you really want.

credit: Picasso, Still Life