I woke up today thinking I would feel better. Somehow, the events of yesterday, and the day(s) before, would have settled into place and I would have some sort of….game plan?
That didn’t happen and I don’t feel that way, at all. Instead, I am left feeling saltier. Punchier. I have a ‘the world is falling apart’ hangover, with the knowledge that there’s a long night of partying ahead of me.
Then, to make matters worse, I had two incredibly shallow and fake conversations with two humans who I was once close with and now, not so much. I played along as best I could, but the inauthentic nature of the interactions seemingly made things worse. As the minutes ticked on, I felt myself getting progressively grumpier.
All I could think about is when the back and forth was going to end and where is my out. The craziest part about this little tale I’m relaying to you, is that I feel confident that my counterparties were not affected even remotely close to the way that I happened to be. They were just fine. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. I am not saying they felt nothing, because that’s not my place to do so, but I am saying that they were able to carry on and put on a convincing unaffected front.
Maybe they finally got the upper hand, or presumably so, or perhaps they truly do not give a flying fuck. Again, as I’ve said here a trillion times, it is not my place to make that assumption more than just that- a shot in the dark.
Either way, it’s unnerving. Disconcerting. I’m in a place where everything feels pretty fucked and on top of that overwhelming sense of unease, I’m struggling with these inconsequential but also, massively important interactions.
Cool. Thanks for sharing your state of mind L, very enlightening.
No, but seriously. I have a point. There is a very critical connective tissue here. What if we only cared about ourselves? What if we managed to get to a place where the concept of self-care or putting oneself first, turned into a painful case for rugged individualism? What if people care, but the stop gap, or basement of that care, is their own sense of status quo?
Okay, fine. That makes sense, right? Put on your own oxygen mask first and all that jazz.
Unless it doesn’t make sense, because if we limit compassion and concern and empathy by our own sense of well-being, we will often end up not really giving a shit about anyone but ourselves.
Shall I repeat that, or are we good here?
Let’s rephrase a little. I can be outraged by the overturning of Roe v. Wade, but if I acknowledge that I live in a wealthier state where resources are available and I likely won’t find myself down and out as a result of this decision, do I still retain my anger? Or do I fold and thank the higher power that I live where I live? Do I even take steps beyond bitching about it and ‘liking’ the proper posts on social media? Is it because I feel powerless, or actually, because I feel very powerful? I am the master of my own fate and things feel pretty okay, so I think I’ll drop my bags, right here.
What am I actually talking about? Well, I don’t know if we know how to make space for each other in a real way. Everyone seems to want interactions to go the way that they prefer, or they need. A consideration of any viable alternative (like um, compromise) leads to resignation and an about-face.
We‘ve talked about all the ways in which compromise can be devastating, but here’s your reminder that it’s also necessary. We need a certain inherent flexibility to survive in this world. Like so much else, it’s all about finding a middle ground. It’s all about locating a spot where you are okay and the other person or people are okay, and things are okay. Sometimes they might be great, and sometimes a bit south of great, but never not okay.
Many of us don’t like that middle spot though, because we have this overwhelming sense that the universe owes us more than that. We deserve something magical and stupendous, and the in-between feels subpar and underwhelming.
Let’s go back to those interactions I had. What could I have done differently? Well, I could bring to the attention of my counterparty the awkwardness and shittiness and sadness of our interaction. Yes. Right. Except that I don’t think they felt it. I mean, again, I don’t know what they felt, but let’s just say that they didn’t feel compelled to address it, so there’s that.
I did though. I felt like I really wanted to address it. I wanted to say something. Anything. I wanted to make it messy or make it nicer or make it something other than an interaction that left me with the strong desire to start ripping hairs out of my scalp.
But why? Well, that’s my nature. When things feel upside down or yucky, I strongly desire to fix them. The thing is that addressing my issues with these women would do nothing. They feel comfortable with their mojo or they wouldn’t be acting that way.
Where am I going with this? Well, it’s the same with the state of the world or things. I could get on social media and rage (I did). I can want to change the people who are pressing for this insanity (I do). But then, I can get my shit together and recognize that change comes from moving together with others who feel similarly, or who are willing to entertain the thought of something similar. Change comes from flexibility and compromise, but it starts with a willingness.
When it comes to those who are steadfast in their commitment to the thing that lights our souls on fire (and not in a good way), we need to just make peace with it all and back away, slowly. That tree can be barked up, but nothing, and I mean nothing, is shaking loose from those branches of hell.
You see what I mean by all of this?
More soon.
X
L.
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