A Hill to Die On.

I recently called a mentor of mine (was, is, not sure) to talk about something that was bothering me. There was a situation that I felt was patently unfair and if I’m being honest, I wanted a sympathetic ear. I’m not sure I was actually seeking advice. Maybe I was, but the biggest part of me just wanted support and reinforcement.

I don’t want to get into the issue, because it doesn’t really matter. Truly.

I shared the story with this individual and they told me that while they understood my perspective, perhaps this wasn’t a “hill I should die on.”

You know what I responded with for the first time in 43 years? I told him that I don’t think I’m ever allowed to pick a hill. I don’t think that’s ever been available to me, and I can’t foresee a future where something changes, unless I change it.

You know what ‘don’t die on that hill’ sounds like to me at this point in my story? It sounds like ‘pick your battles.’ It also sounds like ‘be a good girl’ and ‘calm down’ and also, when someone presses their fingers against their lips or waves their hand in that very specific way that means ‘quiet down’ or ‘shush.’

As fiery as I can be, I’ve spent a good deal of my life being silenced by these thoughts and directions and doctrines. The most I’ve ever done is light my guts on fire whilst swallowing every fuck I can muster. Sure, I’m vocal, but usually when it comes to the injustice heaped on others. When it comes to me, there isn’t a goddamn hill in sight. It’s the flattest road you could imagine. Any death would occur from laying down on an even plain, and being run over. Again. And, again.

And yet, something shifted after this most recent conversation. If I’m fair, my softest bits have been moving around for some time now, waiting to align in that perfect way that leads to revolution. I’ve been churning and thinking and feeling in ways that I’ve never quite considered before.

You see, we teach women not to be angry. Generally speaking. We teach them to go take a boxing class to get out that well deserved rage. We tell them to find their stories and find their voices and channel it into something cleaner and neater and altogether quiet. We tell them to eat shit.

And the worst part? Most of the people who tell me to go forth and say nothing, are women. Sure, my mentor is a man, but he’s the least of it. I’m endlessly told, with few exceptions, to get perspective, where perspective means a POV that doesn’t cause a reaction that’s anything other than momentary. I’m told to be a team player and be the bigger person and understand. Endlessly. To be so compassionate that I pay no mind to my weeping entrails.

And what’s wild is that I am. I am an empath. I feel deeply. I am horrifically sensitive and feel everything in a way that is magnified. But even I recognize that there are situations that call for something different. There are circumstances that don’t require a beat. There are things that occur that light you on fire and the only thing you can do to serve yourself is spread that flame and not quell it.

So yeah, I’m pretty angry right now. I’m not angry in that it’s ruining my days or coloring my ability to be joyful. I’m pissed off in that special kind of way that makes me want to work to change things. It makes me feel okay with making people uncomfortable. Its makes me realize that I will survive the special grief that comes with letting go: of people, of places, of things.

Do I just feel mad? Obviously not. Have we met? I’m broken hearted. I feel disappointed in people. I feel dissatisfied in myself. I feel aggrieved in ways I can’t even understand yet.

Do I need to caveat this by telling you that I’m not perfect that I know that? Do I need to share that I fuck up all the time, too? I don’t. You know that. I know that. This isn’t about being perfect and judging the world around me while sitting on a shiny, glass throne. This is about my humanity and my ability to express myself in a way that serves me.

And I can tell you that eating shit for a long time has NOT served me. I also know that I don’t want to fundamentally change. I still want to see the best in people. I still want to hope for better. But I know that in order to continue along that path, I have to let the fire burn instead of trying so damn hard to extinguish it.

I just watched the movie ‘Elemental’ (love, love, love) and one of my favorite quotes from this beautiful and powerful movie is the following [from Wade]: “I don’t think a temper is so bad. Sometimes when I lose my temper, I think it’s just me trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.”

Yes. Sometimes it is. You can be ashamed of your fire, or you can harness it. You don’t have to release it at the gym or write it in a journal. You can point to the injustice of a thing and say ‘by the way- this fucking sucks.’ You can tell someone that even though you are prepared to comply and be nice and be easy, you are doing it under protest. You can allow them to sit with the discomfort of a thing instead of miring in your own.

Here are a few things that make me incredibly angry:

1. Sexism. In particular, men at work getting away with all sorts of nonsense and women having to work ten times harder for less pay. This is just one example, but it’s personal for me, so there you go.
2. People who take credit for other people’s work and ideas. People who don’t understand that sharing the spotlight is a beautiful thing. We shine when we lift others’ up. Stealing someone else’s thunder only diminishes you. Even if no one sees how dull you are after, I do. Always.
3. People who make assumptions and then dig in. Hard. Die by those misgivings and misunderstandings, even when proven wrong.
4. People who tell other people to simmer down (I mentioned this already, but it’s worth the two entries)- instead of asking them if they are okay.
5. People who think friendship is showing up when it’s good for them. Only.
6. Racism. People who cry about the extinction of the white man and woman in our society. We good. Stop worrying ya fucking shit bags.
7. People who feel like their life choices should be reflected in everyone who surrounds them. In other words, people who think what’s good for one MUST be good for all. Should be. And if you don’t, you may as well write yourself off.
8. Losing the ability to have a sense of humor in some sad allegiance to political correctness. There’s a line between offensive and funny. Find it. But if something offends you, and it seems benign to others, don’t condemn them. Understand your offense is deeply personal and you are entitled as are they. The carve out to this are the isms and phobias. But you know that, right?
9. People who say climate change is fake. It’s not fake. Get a fucking clue. It’s science. You don’t want to give a shit. Don’t. That’s cool. But stop making that absurd claim. It’s ignorant and sad.
10. People who judge everyone for everything. Everything. You don’t know everyone’s story. You don’t know their happiness or sadness or what chaps their ass. Again, let’s carve out the real shitty shit, but for goodness sake, let people be who they are. You don’t have to be friends with them, but must you always have an opinion?
11. People pleasers who shame those who want to speak up. This ties closely to number 10.
12. Those who refuse to be introspective or accountable or both. Yes, that’s judgey, but also, not. I don’t care how deep you get, but if you refuse to examine your own behavior in the most basic fashion, you are selfish. That’s the truth.
13. While we are on the topic, I loathe the pervasively selfish.

I know. Thirteen. Gasp. But the unlucky feels lucky for me so I’m going to stop there. I don’t want to end this by telling you I’m going to do better, but it feels like a good thing to say, so I’m going to tell you that I want to do better. I want to explore the ways in which I harm others, and also, the ways in which I harm myself. I want to figure out what my hills are that I want to die on. They are out there. They are definitely plural. And it’s definitely time.

What about you? Do you know your hills?

X

L.