Skip to main content

Who Wants to Watch the Fireworks?

Yesterday I watched a woman sitting in front of the bank across the street. She caught my eye because she was rubbing her legs furiously, wincing as her fingers moved up and down her shins. When she dipped a plate in water and poured it over her legs I thought perhaps she was washing her body, but when she started talking to people who were not there, I knew the truth. She was mentally ill.

I sat on the floor of the balcony and hid behind a chair as best I could, but it wasn't because I was afraid she would see me. My presence would not interrupt the party she was having with her imaginary companions. She was perfectly content pouring water over her legs, picking leaves off the hedges, and handing both to the figments of her imagination. I was just awed…and a little jealous of her ability to be completely ambivalent to others.

You see, I spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think. I have an idea of the person I want to be and how I want others to see me. Sometimes these ideas match. Sometimes they don't. The problem is that when we are constantly trying to maintain an image, we lose the ability to make the best decisions for ourselves.

I spent far too many years in a bad marriage because I was taught that marriage is a lifetime commitment. I didn't want people to see me as a failure because I couldn't hold together the commitment of two people. I didn't want to be judged as a bad wife who couldn't meet the needs of her husband. I didn't want people to think I was flaky. Anyone who did not live in my house might think that because they never saw the complete picture. My ex-husband was a master at pretending everything was okay and living a lie like it was the truth.

The problem with this is that it also left me isolated on an island of marital despair. I could never really share with anyone what was going on because when I tried, they judged me. They told me to pray more, dress more provocatively, learn to cook his favorite foods, do everything I could to meet his needs. And like any good, obedient child, I did.

But it didn't work. The people around me concluded that I wasn't really trying hard enough. By the time we finally divorced, I was a façade of a person. And still judged.

I guess I just don't understand the judgment. I get that we want the best for the people who matter most to us, but life is not a paint-by-the-numbers project for all of us. You don't have to agree with my decisions, but you also don't have to judge me for them because you don't have to live with the consequences of my decisions. I do.

I'm human. I screw up…sometimes in big ways. I may never figure it all out before I die. Yet, I cannot do what I need to do if I'm constantly worried about what you think of me. That's how the messages in my head get confused. What I need—what you need—is acceptance. I need to know that when the world around me blows up, someone will be there with me to watch the fireworks.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Restless Soul

Someone recently told me that I have an impulsive streak. ("Just an observation, not a criticism.") My initial reaction was to vehemently deny that statement despite the fact that I had just confessed to walking into Total Wine and buying $200 worth of wine just because it seemed like a good idea at 11:00 on a Thursday morning. Me? Impulsive? Don't answer that, especially if you know the truth. I shared this with my therapist yesterday and his eyes lit up when I said, "I think I have a restless soul." The fact that his eyes lit up is significant since we spend most of my sessions arguing with each other about ideas like whether or not a book he recommended is filled with psychobabble bullsh*t or why I should do a bit more thinking with my heart instead of my head. For once, he agreed with me and quickly pointed out that this is not necessarily a bad trait. In fact, it's what stirs my needs to explore and to write. It's also the reason why I don't, by...
5 comments
Read more

Gators and Bees and Snakes...Oh My!

Let me preface this by pointing out that we have a deaf, epileptic Great Dane, a one-eyed cat, and a slew of young cats outside that we just haven't been able to part with. Love for animals abounds here. It seems we have a critter fest going on around here lately. In mid-September there was the Great Goose Massacre courtesy of a visiting alligator. Two weeks ago we had the Invasion of the Bees that left nearly 100 dead bees in its wake. Last week was the Demise of the Rattler. Alan heard a strange sound when he walked out on the porch last Sunday. He thought at first that it was a large dragonfly caught in the screen. It turns out that it was a rattle snake, coiled up and ready to strike. He says that he will never get the rattling sound out of his head, but I think he was a bit more freaked out at the thought of watching one of the kittens get struck by the snake. (Bonsai was apparently completely willing to risk his life to investigate the snake.) His first words to me when he pi...
5 comments
Read more

Frustrated Readers Make Great Fans

I haven’t felt this betrayed by a story line since Neo learned that not only was he not the first person to challenge the Matrix, but he was part of the plan all along. Even though I was sorely disappointed in what appeared to be a cop-out story line, I can understand the logic in that disappointing plot twist. I can’t say the same for Stephenie Meyer’s conclusion to her wildly popular “Twilight” series. Look, I’ve read each of the first three books at least twice, and my grad school entrance paper was a character analysis of Edward Cullen. I loved these books. I read “New Moon” and “Eclipse” in a single day. I’ve been discussing the plot lines and characters with my students for the last two years. It was a long wait for this final book. And a huge part of me wishes I was still waiting. It was that much of a letdown. I’m still debating just how to tiptoe through my inevitable conversations with students about this part of the “Twilight” saga. My students were embarrassed enough by th...
5 comments
Read more