Not feeling well today. You don’t want to hear that, I know,
we never do and yet we ask “to be polite”. Just another example of why I am a
crazy bitch. No one tells the truth.
Oh, we make jokes that reveal a little of what we feel about each other –a kind of passive-aggressive truth-telling but if confronted we retract our joke, insist it was just that –a joke and do what we can to sooth the savage ego.
Oh, we make jokes that reveal a little of what we feel about each other –a kind of passive-aggressive truth-telling but if confronted we retract our joke, insist it was just that –a joke and do what we can to sooth the savage ego.
Recently I was on the receiving end of one of these non-funny
jokes. I was telling a “friend” about how much I was loving writing this blog.
Her reply –telling in so many ways –was that of course I did, it was about my
favorite subject –me. Ha ha ha. I laughed along pretending not to be hurt. Was
she wrong? Nope. I have always liked my own company and have tried not to bore
myself. I live by the saying “if you’re bored it’s because you’re boring”. I’ve been depressed, angry, manic, crazed,
lustful, hurtful, painful but not often bored. Boredom is a waste of good
angst.
At 60 I have decided that my goal from now until I shuffle
off my mortal coil is to tell my truth. Not THE truth –just MY truth. I’m not
sure I have the necessary insights, or even the right, to try and tell someone
else’s truth so I’m stuck with writing about me. If that makes me a narcissistic,
ego-manic when then I guess that’s the first truth revealed.
This blog is about what has made me crazy and what has
helped me cope with it. Telling –and hearing- the truth –has been my greatest
coping mechanism. It replaces the one I was taught all my life- to lie.
I grew up in a nice, middle-class suburb full of trees,
kids, Moms who stayed home and Dad’s who brought home the bacon. That idyllic
time everyone waxes nostalgic about. However, it was all a lie. At least inside
my modest 3 bedroom, 2 bath tract house with a nice backyard. My mother hated
staying home with the kids. She hated kids. How do I know this is the truth?
She finally told my sister and I after our kids were born. She decided to burst
the bubble that Granny was going to dote on her grandkids. She didn’t need to
tell me but it was nice to have my childhood reality confirmed.
But we could not talk about our sadness in those days.
Apparently my elementary school principal told my parents he felt I should see
a psychiatrist. God forbid! Family secrets might spill from my 10 year old
lips. Horror! Paradise exposed.
I believe he told
them this after I had slapped my 5th grade math teacher, Mrs.
Adamske. To be fair, she slapped me first. To be really fair, I had a mouth on
me. I was the straw that broke that poor teacher’s back. Mrs. Adamske took “early
retirement” and I was told to stop talking about it. I like to think that in that very honest
exchange between that teacher and myself we had freed her from a job she
obviously hated and wasn’t very suited for. But my call for help went unanswered.
Apparently more outrageous behavior had to happen before someone took steps.
How do children get their needs met? Everyone has a way. I
learned at that age that it was no use trying to get them met at home so I
turned to outside sources; school, acting, men, food, achievement. And in most
cases, I was acting a role off-stage. I stayed in relationships that hurt or
bored me, I lived for the applause from strangers and I ate and lost the same
50 pounds over and over. I started with the DNA for manic-depression but the expression
of my disease took flight through my desperate search for recognition. For
love. For someone to tell me I was all right just as I am. No change necessary.
Think about it –did anyone of us hear that really? Do we
now? How many parents praise their kids for getting C’s without the addendum “but
I know you are capable of so much more.” My friend constantly calls her honors
student from a highly prestigious college “lazy” because she doesn’t pick up
after herself. She’s not lazy –no way –she is disinterested in cleaning. It’s
not her priority. I’m sure when she has no clothes to wear, when she begins to
gross herself out, she cleans.
Why can’t we just be? Why can’t I like writing this blog
without the label? No one has to read it if they don’t want. Why is
the act of self-expression suspect? Arghhhhhhhhh. So I’m selfish. We all are. That’s
MY truth. In my next blog I plan to really piss you all off by explaining why
we are all students of Machiavelli.
And now Facebook has made lying an international pastime –never
let them see you sweat. Or hurt. Or honest. Don’t you feel compelled to “put on
your happy face’ on those pages? God forbid people know you’re struggling, you’ve
lost your job or house or spouse. Why, they might pity you. What a loser. Or
maybe, just maybe, they will feel a little less alone in their despair. Thank
God, I’m not the only one.
Telling the truth and hearing it has begun healing me and therefore
I’m not as crazy as I could be.
Nancy, I enjoyed your blog. I will continue to read your future blogs, not only because I like to read your thoughts but also because of your writing style. You have a way with words and were definitely meant to be an entertainer. This blog made me stop and think about why I rarely post my struggles to facebook. The answer- for me- was very simple. Many of my "friends" on facebook are more like acquaintances or people from work. I do not have enough trust in those people to divulge my hurts. I actually got burned pretty badly when expressing some frustrations about my ex many years ago on myspace. I "learned my lesson". When I am having a hard time I make phone calls to my close friends and family. I use facebook for surface stuff. Like, look at my new hair do or check out my pictures from my adventures. I have been known to get more personal through facebook private messages and sometimes even commenting on other peoples statuses. But -for me- I don't feel comfortable sharing my struggles in a status to people that I don't have a close trusting bond with.
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ReplyDeleteI always enjoy you Nancy- have since I was 14. Your words and your honesty have always been an inspiration. True souls are hard to find- ones that are not afraid to show vulnerability and take off the masks. I remember an exercise we did in drama club where we sat and stared, really stared, into our partners eyes until we actually saw "THEM". Powerful. I think it's that kind of connection that the "true souls" yearn for. A connection that is deeper than the surface, an understanding of another that goes deeper than the "self", allowing oneself to be vulnerable to let another person "see" them. I think when people scoff at someone for only wanting to talk about themselves that they are missing the bigger effort at hand. When we are talking about ourselves we are actually just seeking a deeper connection; for someone to "see" us, to validate us, to discover and embrace shared experiences or feelings. So screw anyone who tries to put you down for opening yourself up and showing your true soul. Anyone who diminishes your effort is really just saying "I care more about hiding my own insecurities than finding a true connection". That's my opinion. Love you Nancy!
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