NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA- Making Peace with Indifference.

This is going to serve as an exploratory exercise and because of that I’ll keep it casual. Maybe we’ll get some answers. Maybe we won’t. But, if experience is any indicator, we’ll at least be slightly more enlightened by the end than we are now. If you know me, you’re aware (perhaps painfully) that my preferred mode of speech is articulate muddled with profanity, and since we’re meandering this path together, I’m going to write in my conversational style.

I’ve got a few people in my life who just don’t seem to like me. Do I know this for sure? Um, no. Is it possible that it’s a completely self-involved delusion? Absolutely. But, my best efforts appear to be met with indifference. Unfortunately, my fragile lil’ ego handles this poorly. We’re human. We want everyone to be a fan and part of being a person means coping with the reality that this is highly improbable. But, those feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty remain and working through them is what I’m interested in. So, let’s meander down the rabbit hole.

I’m a forgiver. Grudges are for suckers and gluttons for punishment. If you've wronged me and been able to admit it, I can move on very quickly, but this whole don’t like me and I don’t know why business, cuts deep. The mystery and the helplessness are problematic. Typically, my go to defense mechanism, to suppress the hurt, is to dig up any and every reason I can to not like them back. It’s wildly unsuccessful every time, serving only to leave me feeling even more like a chump.

Thankfully, this list is short (that I know of) and varies over time. You can’t win ‘em all.

We’ve all read The Four Agreements, it’s not about us, it’s them, right? Buttt, what if it is about me, and I’m an obtuse asshole (my biggest fear)? It’s pretty much become the name of my game to own my shit, acknowledge my shit, clean up my shit, etc., etc. I know when I speak out of turn. I know when I’ve said too much. I internally cringe at my own fuck ups on the regular and can’t immediately smooth them out every time, but I always take mental notes to do better going forward. This is the price I pay for being generous with my “authenticity.”

But, how does one clean up said shit if one can’t recognize it? And, how do we make peace with seemingly unfixable relationships? There are a few directions, that I can think of, to take this in:

1. There is no shit. They just don’t like your brand of stink. You’re great, don’t sweat it.

2. They aren’t even thinking about you.

3. You suck and you don’t know it yet.

4. They suck and can’t handle that you don’t.

5. They’re jelly of how cool you are.

6. You offended them and then you were fine but they hold grudges like an S.O.B.  

Number 1 really doesn’t require discussion. There’s nowhere to go from there. Why waste mental energy on them? If you have to live your life with this person, say a prayer and keep on.

Number 2 is a real possibility and the likely cause of most hurt feelings. Our generation is incredibly self-focused. We’ve been misinformed of the difference between self-care and selfishness and let’s be real, we kinda suck. We’re pretty busy reaching in instead of out, and putting ourselves first at all costs, in the name of safe-guarding the precious “boundaries” we’ve been taught to create. It’s how we cope with the modern world being too overwhelming for us. We may be nailing introspection, but it’s come at a cost of absolute autonomy and no sense of community. So, how to decipher between self-involvement and distaste in this climate? The hope is that we’re in tune enough with reality to register when we’re being paranoid and seeing things that aren’t there. A repetitive pattern of dismissal (or worse) from someone is a good indicator that your feelings are legitimate.

3- not much to be done about that either. If you’ve got some dick moves and zero awareness of them, you’re out of luck until you grow. It’s not your problem to solve until you can actually see it. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look… introspection is never a bad thing, amiright?

Number 4 and 5 are bedfellows. If you’ve got a few admirable attributes that highlight someone’s feelings of inadequacy, they may need to stifle them via judgment of you. In this case, they're the ones with blinders on. This is tricky to concretely identify and painful to reconcile because you’re the one left holding a pile of shit in your hand, feeling like a fuck up and for no good reason, which works out well for them and their subconscious need to supersede you. And, still not much to be done about this either. Cue ugly cry face emoji.

So far, Don Miguel is cleaning house with his second agreement (never take anything personally).

Number 6- I mean what can you do? If they’re going the distance with the anger, which honestly takes me back to 4 and 5 (prob jelly), still their problem. 

So, worst case scenario, IMO, is that you don’t know you’re acting like an ass. That’s embarrassing... but ignorance is bliss and when you know better, you do better. Maya Angelou, thank you for that one. It’s granted grace many a time and I will ride that shit into the sunset, always and forever.

Based upon our very serious and academic research above, ultimately, the responsibility does not lie with the person who has dug deep enough internally, tried to remedy in the best ways they know how, and been conscientious of all parties feelings. If you know you’re operating with integrity (and if you aren’t, deep down, you know that too because it feels kinda murky), then it’s not your battle to fight. You’ve plowed the whole field and there’s nothing left to do until new crops grow.

Typically, I extricate myself from these relationships because it borders on self-abuse to maintain them. We don’t ever need to feel like shit about ourselves unless absolutely necessary for momentary growth. But, sometimes you can’t bail- it’s coworkers, neighbors, school moms, family, church mates, blah blah blah. This is where the real problem lies (this is where my problem lies as well) because you’re going to feel crappy every time you see this person or their social media posts or hear about them. Basically, any reminder that they exist in the world while disliking you, is going to hurt.

So, what do we do with this hurt? How do we make it work for us if we can’t escape from it? This is the part where I furiously search for the silver lining, ‘cus damnit, it’s always there, and it’s the only thing we actually have any control over. Maybe this awareness, painful as it may be, keeps us on our toes, strengthens our cognizance of how we traverse our worlds. If I’m sensitive about how others interpret me because I’m in the throes of self-doubt, then perhaps I lead with more tenderness and empathy in other relationships. I’ve had friends who were too well-loved (it’s real folks), placed upon pedestals, that were very scary to fall from. This lends itself to an inability to admit your own flaws and a fear of being truly honest with others, lest they dislike you. 

This heart has weathered some storms. It can take a beating. I can be real with people and while my forthcomingness has certainly hurt others, more often than not, it’s cradled their ability to be authentic with me and themselves, while owning and voicing uncomfortable truths and emotions. If given the choice, I’m always going to risk a little pain in exchange for something real. The good news is that we improve over time. Every last one of us. The more I’ve flexed that muscle, the more broken hearts I’ve caused and ultimately sustained, the more adept I’ve become at knowing when a mind is ready for honesty and how to tread lightly enough for it to be well received.

Are we on to something or bullshitting ourselves? Not sure, but most of life is composed of the bullshit we tell ourselves anyway, so I’m going with it. It brings peace where there was angst, and gives new meaning to the saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Hold that pain close to your heart and use it to grow because if you aren’t growing, what are you doing?

Angi

ODE TO MY HUSBAND.

I’m a runner. For sport … and when things get emotionally messy. Fleeing the scene of arguments, wounded feelings, uncomfortable situations, and broken friendships is my default response. And, if intoxicated to the appropriate degree, during my late 20’s and early 30’s, I had a tendency to literally leave the bar (unannounced) and run. Home was about a mile and a half away and through some rather unsavory areas. Mini dress, platform sandals, and long hair flowing behind me, off I’d go, through the ghetto and to my front door, where I’d pass out soon thereafter. It was stupid and I’m lucky none of the catcalling it elicited ever resulted in more, but I probably looked maniacal enough not to mess with, sprinting around at 2 am in heels.

Why run home? I don’t know. But it sure made people uncomfortable…. so maybe that’s why. 

We’ll leave that tidbit of background nonsense for later. I’m weaving a tale here, and it’s going to be kinda messy but hopefully worth it.

So, the bar I often ran from had this bouncer, Lou. He was everything you’d expect a bouncer to be. My best guess is that he clocked in at about 350 lbs. He wore a dated black leather coat that was too long to be cool but long enough to be adequately menacing. If he wasn’t smiling, he managed to look intimidating in all the ways the bar needed him to. He checked ID’s and broke up brawls, bouncer stuff. Of course, everyone knew him. He was Lou. 

I don’t know exactly how or when my friendship with Lou was born, but I’m sure my lil drunk face had been around enough to become familiar. This place was akin to my Cheers and I’d been frequenting it for a decade, and pretty consistently post-marriage dissolution, because that’s often how one handles something like that. Anyway, sometime between sprinting and buzzed, towards night’s end, I’d make my way over to Lou. His face would light up with a smile and he’d wrap his arms around me and there I’d stay until last call. I’m tempted to say he liked me and that I wasn’t just another drunk nuisance of a girl, but maybe that was part of the job description and Lou was, if nothing else, a professional. 

I’d bury my face in his chest, blocking out that supernatural ability to hear every conversation in the bar with clarity that shows up only when you’re sufficiently wasted. Never once did Lou hit on me, say something inappropriate, or touch me where he shouldn’t. He just held me and listened to my drunken ramblings. Lou’s sanctuary temporarily absolved me of my humanness, my trespasses. I was weightless in his security. Those were rare occasions of vulnerability for me. I felt safe on every level, and maybe in that time of emotional unrest, I needed to get lost in those offerings. 

Everybody wears drunk differently. My drunk is the closest I’ll ever come to being enlightened. I can drop my immense fears and insecurities and finally see the beauty in everyone. I feel interconnected and unconditionally in love with humanity. It’s very raw and vulnerable. For Lou to grant me safety during those moments was a gift. These kinds of relationships, with no expectations, don’t come along often. Losing yourself in the safety of a man you can trust, who has no end game, that’s a unicorn folks. 

Somewhere in the midst of my rebound drinking, I met my second husband. He quickly became acutely aware of my flight risk. Containing me was a challenge, on every level. But sometimes you just know and no amount of suffering or naysaying from headstrong girls will stand in your way. 

While, unlike Lou the bouncer, romance was on Sean’s docket, over the years I’ve come to see him for what he is- my real life, all day, e’ry day unicorn. And I recognize that saying the word unicorn twice is borderline gross, but that’s how rare our connection feels to me. No one's love for me has ever been so unconditional. Of course, I piss him off left and right, because I’m opinionated, fervently impulsive, and terribly mouthy, but there has never been a time that I’ve felt so consistently safe. Not just safe like I know he isn’t leaving, because the world is full of miserable married people but safe as in I know that I can be me, I can grow, I can stagnate, I can cry or yell or act a fool, and his love won’t flinch. My entire life can be buried in his leather jacket. I can lose fears that I’ve clung to for years just because I know that he is my rock, an immovable boulder. 

As made clear in the beginning, I’m no Sean. I’m a runner. My level of trust in others, my faith that I won’t be hurt, is fragile at best. There’s nothing unconditional about me and I’m certainly not claiming any innate, boulder-esque qualities. I’m ready to jet at all times, just in case. I seek out change simply to create discomfort, which seems to be (healthy or not) how I’m most comfortable. My poor, immovable husband is on the ride of his life. And still, he loves me. Because he just knows. He knows enough for both of us. He knows I am not capable of ever knowing anything like that, and I love him so much for it. Those fleeting moments of drunken security wrapped up in the arms of Lou comprise the entirety of my life with Sean. Slowly but surely, my flight risk has dissipated. I’m learning firsthand the grace of staying put in this one thing, the freedom that solidity grants, contradictory as it may sound. It’s the only thing I don’t want to change and so many walls had to crumble for me to accept that. Only in the presence of his steadfast love could I allow them to. 

As for Lou, one night at the bar, I took off. My mom and sister were out with me, which was atypical, but it meant that running home wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Still, I tried. Too many Jack and waters. They yelled, “Get her!” Caught off guard because he was unaware of my predilection for sprinting, a very large Lou went chasing after me. I imagine it comes as no surprise that I was lighter underfoot than him, and as he crossed the busy street in hot pursuit, Lou fell. I looked back from a distance and stopped. I’d hurt a person who only ever gave me comfort. My mom and sister pulled up in the car and firmly said, “Get your ass in right now.” Defeated, I obliged. With childlike shame, I watched Lou rise from the road as we pulled away, and something changed in me. I never saw him again and I never ran home again. Little did I know this was the beginning of a shift for me, that it would be the first of many times I’d fight the urge to flee. 

Soon thereafter, Sean and I would find out that we were unexpectedly expecting Sage and my slow, emotional unraveling would begin in the presence of his unconditional acceptance. The winding path of my fears and contradictions would lead in and around him, but always with him at center, as my True North, a safe haven to land upon, where love really does conquer all. 

Thank you, Sean, for never flinching and always believing. I could never have found me without first finding you.

-Angi