That was a pretty big assignment that I gave you, eh? I mean, I know it. You might not have even known where to start. Maybe you didn’t even fully understand the implications behind the example story that I shared with you. That’s okay. It happens.
In the Starbucks example, it’s important to understand that I didn’t just have a minor eye roll moment because my zen was disturbed by a group of teenagers. My emotional response was bigger than that. While it didn’t happen (and likely wouldn’t, because of who I am), my inner response was sufficiently bothersome that I could have actually gotten to the point where I said something to the girls or more likely, loud enough to my friend that the girls heard me.
Look, we are all human. Sometimes shit just bothers or annoys us. It could be something serious or it could just be that we are having a bad moment or day. But, sometimes it’s more.
I’m going to move onto another example. This is a tougher one for me to speak to because it’s sensitive but I think it’s really, really important. Okay, so I’m flipping through photos in an album and I stumble upon a travel picture from the year after I graduated from college and was living in London. I’m standing on a gorgeous beach (Portugal I think) in a bikini top and cropped baby blue khaki pants and platform sandals.
My skin is tanned golden brown with just a touch of rose dotting my cheeks and my hair is in two little alien buns atop my head. I look really fucking happy. Free. I look free. I know, without knowing, that I am not thinking about what my arms or breasts or thighs look like. I’m unconcerned about the brand of my sandals or whether or not my buns are crooked. In the deepest recesses of my mind, I remember walking to a beach side restaurant and eating greasy fish and chips and drinking a Corona mixed with a small bottle of Orangina.
Several thoughts come to mind almost immediately. I notice my joy. I observe my joy. I sit with my joy. Then, all these other thoughts come in. I’m not sure if I wore sunscreen which probably didn’t help the lines crisscrossing my forehead today. I unabashedly walked around in a bikini top without a care as to what anyone thought, which feels careless and a little crazy and self-centered. I could go on and on, but I’m thinking you get the gist here. I’m bashing the 20-year-old me, nearly twenty years after the date of that photograph.
Then I stop. I tell myself that I’m being ridiculous. This is what youth is all about. I’m meant to be light and unconcerned. I’m meant to live mostly in my own head and not dedicate much in the way of energy to the endeavor that is giving a shit what other people think. This isn’t some stranger that pops into my local coffee shop. This is me. I’m looking at me.
Again, I don’t do a deep dive at this point. Not even close. I don’t examine why it’s easier for me to tear that girl to shreds than remember fondly how happy I was at that time. I tell myself that I am being kind of shitty and I let it go. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. Right? Maybe I don’t need to get fucking crazy because I had a moment and now it’s over.
Nah.
I can’t do that. Why? Well, I’m kind of resentful of that girl. I feel critical in a way that doesn’t serve me and certainly does no justice to the memories that live within my soul. This isn’t just a hot minute where I lovingly chuckle at baby fat and cluelessness and naivete. I feel a deep-seated desire to destroy her. I want to take her down to her knees. I want to make her accountable in a very real and significant way.
You might be thinking this sounds kind of gross and you’ve never been this way and you would never be this way. Good for you. I’m not even saying that like an asshole. I mean it. For the rest of you, I feel your hesitation SO hard. I get it.
I know those belly and heart tugs very, very well. I can clearly call to mind feeling a certain way when looking at pictures or swapping stories or coming into contact with some person or thing that sparks a memory. It is in those moments where I decide what I want to do with this information. Do I just want to have a subpar response whenever something presents that makes me a little meh? Do I want to do what I have to do in order to move through it quickly and objectively speaking, painlessly? OR, do I want to use it as a moment for growth?
Most of us with say ‘hell to the no’ when it comes to that last question or sentiment. I mean, we might say it differently. We might be kinder, but still, we digest and move on, speedily.
But then some of us, those of us who want to stay on the path to worthy (or maybe even find the damn path at some point), we take that shit head on. We tell ourselves that this is a point where things change. This is a time when things can start to fall into place in a way that contributes to our forward movement. We acknowledge that we want to move forward. We understand that staying put or trudging backwards is not something that appeals any longer, or maybe it never did.
You know what I’m going to say, right? Maybe not. Well, the first thing that we need to do is ask ourselves a question. Ready? Okay. We need to ask ourselves why the fuck we had the reaction we did to whatever the catalyst was at the time.
Recognize that you will not have an answer to this question straight away. I mean, you might, but I’m guessing that won’t be a true answer. It will be the easy one. You will start to roll around in your head different ideas that could suitably answer the question. It helps to also fully explore the response we had, down to the smallest detail. What do I mean by that? Well, you don’t just admit that the girls’ loud voices were a bit annoying. You admit that you found yourself looking down at your outfit to see how you compare. Yikes. Yeah, I know. This is just the beginning.
x
L.
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