I have been on a positive kick these days. Living life in the now. My now. This moment to moment of taking whatever comes my way. Maybe the yoga is kicking in-Is it my Buddha and incense? The four hours a day of biking? Something is ever so slightly adjusting the level of serotonin in my brain-but by God, I have been happy. Yes, that’s right! Happy in a balanced, alliswellinmyworld kind of way. Even-keeled if you will. Even a quick trip to Walmart to purchase last minute supplies left me-well, okay. Granted I was only there for 15 minutes-but I was able to leave the store without wanting to scream at anyone or tap someone on the shoulder, in a way my Grandma Brown would have done to remind them not to: talk on the phone in public, have any body part exposed in a most disgusting way, or to beg them to stop having children. Just stop.
But then…………….
Something rose from way up inside the innards of my truest feelings this morning that no amount of incense, biking or Buddha would quell. A general disgust at all things I simply have tolerated because it was the polite thing to do-people included. This was the morning I was not going to take it anymore-because I don’t have to. Nope. Not gonna do it.
No, no, no. I. don’t. give. afly’infig ( my Grandma Brown would say that too) about what this says about me, about my temperament, my ability to breathe it all in and let it go, my “lack of”, or inability to. I don’t want to calm down. I don’t want to make peace. Has anyone ever thought that by getting rid of all the things( and people) you simply tolerated ( in spite of, because of) can be a very positive way to make peace?
Hey! I don’t like you. Never have. You are not nice and you take too much work to navigate. Nice know’in ya. Well, not really. You never liked me either.
My nine year old daughter has been having a particularly difficult time with a certain other little nine year old. A budding she devil if you ask me. The troubles with said she devil started last year. And trust me when I tell you, this little dar’lin has all the makings of manipulation wrapped up in mean( and then I met the mom and it all made sense to me)
I just don’t like her, my daughter said. There is nothing nice about her. There is something to be said for nine year old wisdom.
And while I wholeheartedly agreed, that thing, that make nice gene kicked in and I found myself saying exactly what my mother would have said( and probably did) to me when I was ridiculed by a pack of nine year olds myself-way back when.
You don’t have to like them, you don’t have to be their friend, but you must be nice and be respectful.
Really? I remember, even to this day, that made no sense to me. At nine. At nineteen. At 29…and well, today.
But why? (we said this in tandem, my daughter and me) Only her voice had more conviction and strength, unshaded by years of being nice.
Just be nice Gloria.
No. I don’t want to. Any. More. I don’t want to be nice to people whom I just do not like. I don’t want to pretend. Don’t want to carry the burden of nice anymore. Not that I will be mean-that’s just not nice. But I won’t be anything. Void. Stop pretending.
My mother was the queen of nice. She did not know mean. Well, she did, but her mean was, well, too nice. And it cost her. To her, nothing, because she would not have it any other way. To those of us who knew otherwise, it cost her some extra years of life. She should have, could have, would have. But it was not in her capacity. I chose differently, but it has taken me this long. To find the voice to say no. NO thank-you. Not gonna do it anymore.
Those who know me know me well. For them I save my nice. My warmth, my strength. My compassion and love. Deep love.
No,if I don’t like you, I don’t want to be your friend. In a plane, in a car, in a meeting or in a bar. I am Me. Me I am. I have nothing to give any more to those who continue to take. My time is valuable. Not to be wasted. Anymore. I can not give an iota to those who say one thing and mean another. ALL. THE. TIME. Talk to someone else. I do not want to pray for God fearing hypocrites-who do the most ungodly of things-and then blame it on God. Figure that one out. Blame somebody else- and start with yourself.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times? Okay so I am still learning.