I had a BBQ last night and there were a few real weirdo’s there. I was talking to one of them and I kept thinking “I can’t wait to tell Christie was a douchebag this lame-o is, what a freaky dumbo, oooo, this is gonna be a hoot”. I listen harder than normal so I can re-inact the scene this poor loser was painting so that me and my boyfriend can have a real laugh.
As i am about to re-tell the story of this pancake i feel a little twist in my belly. I push it away and I continue with the show-and-tell but it registers with me that I have been feeling this twinge a lot lately. It’s like this little pinchy moral mouse inside me, taking a little bite- why are you doing this? Who is this serving?
So I lay in bed last night and I ask the question. Why do I do it? Why is it that most of my thoughts lean to the negative? Why do most of my interactions with people lately consist of me looking for holes in my friends armour so that I can catalogue and judge them? Why do I get pleasure from talking shit about people?
The funniest thing is- is that I dedicate my life to creating community, being kind, working my ass off to make others happy. You might call me the hub of the social interaction among my friends and colleagues. I think if you knew me you would consider me a very generous and vibrant friend. I go above and beyond the call and I’m always putting myself last so it’s really incongruous really- this mean-spirited impulse to slam.
But maybe it’s not. If I’m going to talk shit about myself right now I might say ” She surrounds herself with people so that she can constantly prove to herself that she is likeable because honestly she is a bitch who actually thinks she’s better than everyone else (way deep down in a manky smelling fold of skin somewhere place). So because she is such an asshole at heart- to compensate she works extra hard to pretend to care. Basically, she is mean to others so she doesn’t hate herself so much.”
That’s what I would say to myself to get a laugh after I left the party- but it’s just not true. The one thing I would agree with I suppose is the hating myself a bit part. Not in an overt way, but in a small, everyday, not allowing my light to shine kinda way. I am so hard on myself. I am never good enough. When I succeed the bar is quickly set higher, I leave myself very little room for gentleness and times for imperfection and it hurts. So, when I’m not kind to myself for long enough it starts to eat me up and so to survive I eat others up.
And the twinge I feel is this kind little buddy inside who wants to remind me- that’s not nice Em. Come on, be nice…
…and I’m sure it would have been a funny story and he is a real dick and her pants were too tight and he was drinking too much and they are shortsighted and she is negative all the time and no wonder she is not successful and she has packed on the weight and he is tight with money and they are a weird couple and they could all say the same things about you or worse and talking about it doesn’t change anything.
Rise up Em, lift your face above the barbed wire fence and look to the horizon. Love is there and she is waiting for you to notice how beautiful you are.