Untruths
Yesterday, when I was talking to a friend, I told her that some people had found my blog. She asked me if it was my ex-husband. I was surprised she had asked that. 1.) We've been divorced over 6 years. 2.) Why the hell would he be looking for me? It seems my naivete is all encompassing, though. Just as I thought my redundant and simple little life would be boring to others, apparently it is GREAT fodder for gossip. And her comment sticks with me, like grit in my teeth, slightly irritating. Ooh, ooh look at me. I have problems and I admit to them and write about them on the internet! That makes me some kind of craaaaaazy bitch (you must do the accompanying hand wave here).
Everything is grit to me these days. I spoke to a friend about it the other night. We were carousing, and I thought about how small this place had gotten...that I have friends demanding that I be neither friends nor acquaintances with other people who I happen to like. The friend requesting my loyalty told me that if the situation were flipped, reversed, she would take my side, without me asking. But the point is. I didn't ask. I NEVER ask. There are plenty of people in the near vicinity who judge me, think they know me, and dislike me. That's fine. My point is that I don't ask my friends to make choices between MYSELF and ANOTHER. Sand in my teeth. Eyes. Ears. No matter how many times I submerge myself in the tranquil blue waters, it leaves a fine layer on my skin.
Another friend of mine, upon returning from her vacation and speaking to me for five minutes said, "You need a vacation." And I do. I am becoming increasingly negative. I feel that I'm losing my ability to keep things in perspective. THAT'S NOT ME! I want to shout, but for what? A coworker's boyfriend called me a troublemaker the other night. I sat there the whole time, smile pasted to my face, pretending that it didn't bother me. She admonished him, telling him not to be mean to me, but really, I wanted to be in a position to tell him to fuck off. Why I feel the need to sit there and smile idiotically while people unburden themselves of whatever ridiculous thoughts they have, knowing that it will hurt my friends and I, I don't know. I really can't say that I am enamored of that part of myself. I want to be super friend, with a big "SHUT THE HELL UP!" plastered across my chest.
Sometimes I feel like I'm looking through a pair of binoculars. The situation is either insanely close, or small and distant. But both are equally affecting. And the more I pretended that being a trouble maker didn't bother me, it did. Writing a blog doesn't make me a trouble maker. And I have tried so hard not to engage in the behaviors that did make me a trouble maker, but nobody sees it. I can't give voice to HOW MANY PEOPLE have asked me if I am the designated driver. I've been the designated driver for 6 months! I haven't been gyrating about on the dance floor or kissing my friends for 6 months! I have kept my opinions and my hands to myself for 6 months! And for what? And then I get mad that I care what people think anyway. I should be satisfied that Dick is happy. That my friends are happy. That they trust me. But there's always the grit. Itchy and stuck to my back, where I can't reach it.
I did not write entries with the intention of the community knowing my private thoughts about an individual who violated my sense of safety and family. But apparently I don't give off that air. Apparently I give off the air that I am silently analyzing and recording each situation so I can *HUMILIATE* you against your will, shallow and conniving bitch that I am.
Another friend the other day told me that he was amazed every time he walked outside. I want to feel like that.
Everything is grit to me these days. I spoke to a friend about it the other night. We were carousing, and I thought about how small this place had gotten...that I have friends demanding that I be neither friends nor acquaintances with other people who I happen to like. The friend requesting my loyalty told me that if the situation were flipped, reversed, she would take my side, without me asking. But the point is. I didn't ask. I NEVER ask. There are plenty of people in the near vicinity who judge me, think they know me, and dislike me. That's fine. My point is that I don't ask my friends to make choices between MYSELF and ANOTHER. Sand in my teeth. Eyes. Ears. No matter how many times I submerge myself in the tranquil blue waters, it leaves a fine layer on my skin.
Another friend of mine, upon returning from her vacation and speaking to me for five minutes said, "You need a vacation." And I do. I am becoming increasingly negative. I feel that I'm losing my ability to keep things in perspective. THAT'S NOT ME! I want to shout, but for what? A coworker's boyfriend called me a troublemaker the other night. I sat there the whole time, smile pasted to my face, pretending that it didn't bother me. She admonished him, telling him not to be mean to me, but really, I wanted to be in a position to tell him to fuck off. Why I feel the need to sit there and smile idiotically while people unburden themselves of whatever ridiculous thoughts they have, knowing that it will hurt my friends and I, I don't know. I really can't say that I am enamored of that part of myself. I want to be super friend, with a big "SHUT THE HELL UP!" plastered across my chest.
Sometimes I feel like I'm looking through a pair of binoculars. The situation is either insanely close, or small and distant. But both are equally affecting. And the more I pretended that being a trouble maker didn't bother me, it did. Writing a blog doesn't make me a trouble maker. And I have tried so hard not to engage in the behaviors that did make me a trouble maker, but nobody sees it. I can't give voice to HOW MANY PEOPLE have asked me if I am the designated driver. I've been the designated driver for 6 months! I haven't been gyrating about on the dance floor or kissing my friends for 6 months! I have kept my opinions and my hands to myself for 6 months! And for what? And then I get mad that I care what people think anyway. I should be satisfied that Dick is happy. That my friends are happy. That they trust me. But there's always the grit. Itchy and stuck to my back, where I can't reach it.
I did not write entries with the intention of the community knowing my private thoughts about an individual who violated my sense of safety and family. But apparently I don't give off that air. Apparently I give off the air that I am silently analyzing and recording each situation so I can *HUMILIATE* you against your will, shallow and conniving bitch that I am.
Another friend the other day told me that he was amazed every time he walked outside. I want to feel like that.
This entry was posted
on Sunday, June 10, 2007 at 3:42 PM.
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I don't have any words of wisdom on this one. It is a tough thing and as much as people tell you (and you tell yourself) to shrug it off, that it doesn't matter what "they" think, if it bothers you, it bothers you. That is just the way you feel. I don't necessarily think that you should even set out to change the way you feel because it is you.
But then, having said that, with confidence these things will not seem to matter as much. The more you "heal" yourself and move on with your life in the direction you have been going, the grit won't feel quite as gritty and the discomfort willl ease. At least that has been my experience. When I was very unsure of myself as it pertains to work, I was bothered by little things people said. I would overanalyze things that were not worthy of analysis. Now that I am confident in my position, I don't give a crap what people say. I think that it just makes them look pathetic when they try to put me down and I know that everyone sees through it because they know what I am really like. I don't even acknowledge the things that I hear anymore. And I think this could happen for you too. Once you get more comfortable in your own skin and get more confident it probably won't have the same sting when people are nasty. Or you will distance yourself from the type of people that act that way. You are doing a great job, just hang in there and hold your head a little higher knowing that these people are trying to tear you down because they have low self-esteem. I feel a little sorry for them almost. Almost.
J,
I think that's one of the disadvantages to living here - since you run into people so frequently whether you WANT to or not, they're bound to tell you how they feel about you sooner or later. I think it's one of the facts of life of living here. For the MOST part, I have been fortunate to acquaint myself with people who shelter me from what they know other people who think about me. Eh. I just had to get it off my chest.
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