I know why. Showing physical pain would be humiliating to me. "Puts hair on your chest," my dad would humorously say when I was growing up, even though I was a girl.
Emotionally, I'm not quite as strong; in fact, I'm pretty much a 98-lb weakling. "Shaking it off," has proven a much harder task where my feelings are concerned.
I've been battling with that this week. Sometimes you think a painful experience is in the past, and then someone brings it up, and you can't believe how it makes you stumble. You wonder if you ever made any progress at all, or if it's just "out of sight, out of mind." Well, "out of sight" is not always a viable option, so I need to take other steps.
It seems I do not recover from hurt very well, and I don't always move on at lightning or even glacial speed. I give myself pep talks, and they seem to work, but then I find myself at this juncture again. I confess that I let this episode take a hold of me for a couple of days. I was already poorly dealing with a weakened resolve due to another non-related disappointment that involved, once again, hurt feelings. This little storm threw me off my positive groove I've been on, and I lost my thermal. It created anger and doubt and sarcasm and cynicism, and those dark emotions took over my mood. When that happens, it often leads to a temporary loss of confidence. And a loss of confidence is a loss of time, and that is a waste.
When I was in Cape San Blas last month, I had the wonderful experience of having four bald eagles soar directly above me as I rode my bike. I had never seen a bald eagle in my life, save at an aviary in Salt Lake City. It felt like we were riding the same thermal. It was nearly impossible to ride my bike because I wanted to look up and behold their magnificence. Eagles are the only bird that do not necessarily take shelter in storms. They use the crosswinds and literally sail above the front moving at incredible speeds and altitudes, and this behavior saves considerable energy--the exact opposite of what I've been doing in emotional storms.
I know that I cannot avoid these emotions that cause me to tarry, but I need learn to use them sparingly, and I'm trying to figure out what will work for me.
I have to throw off the covers, get up, flip on the light, and go back out and play, even if it's by myself. Even if all the other kids are playing kickball and I wasn't picked for either team. I will hear their hooting and laughing. I will see how much fun they are having. And maybe I will feel humiliated. And that's the part I want to change or at least learn to swallow and then move on.
Alone, I get the slide, monkey bars, and swings all to myself. I can lay on my back in the clover and feel the sunshine and hear the birds, and this will not be a pretend world. This is a real world. I still have many beautiful things in my world.
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This is a highly condensed version of what I originally wrote a few days ago. I put some thoughts on paper, some honesty, and read them, then went back and edited. The parts that seemed petulant glared at me. I decided I didn't want to put those parts out to the ether, even if they were true representations of what I was feeling. Maybe seeing them in print made me realize that these are truths that I don't exactly relish about myself.
I could write a long list of my shortcomings. And for some reason, I feel compelled to do that, rather than write the specifics of how someone I held dearly seemed to purposely hurt me. When I write that sentence, I can now shrug it off. "Stuff happens." That really is a great saying. Perhaps I should just let go of people like that, and not worry about why they did what they did. I should examine and be honest about my own behavior. Did my behavior provoke the other person? If not, how did I react? Am I proud of my behavior?
For my own sake, I will put into words and to the ether behavior I would respect in myself.
I would get up and dust myself off and move on quickly and quietly, being judicious about whom I would share the incident. And even more specifically, I would not dwell.
I would not dwell.
But why do I dwell?
I believe it's my need to have all the answers all the time.
Therefore, I must let go of the notion that with enough effort, I can have all the answers and can create order. As I write that, I laugh a little, because having the answers would most likely lead to more questions, thereby perpetuating my longevity in emotional turmoil.
When I describe that playground above, how could I possibly want to loiter in the recesses of my doubts when there is such beauty to behold?
But getting back to that list of my shortcomings I promised, I think I will focus on only one, the one that seems to present me with the most insurmountable challenges and causes me to tarry. Tarrying is the enemy of the journey. Some vicissitudes offer high altitudes and glorious scenery. Others are a pothole or a mudflat that do nothing but exasperate the traveler and cause senseless delays.
The singular shortcoming that acts as a pothole in my life is this:
Humiliation.
Humiliation is embarrassing.
Literally--I am embarrassed to feel humiliated. I have taken great care in my life to avoid circumstances in which there is even a remote possibility that I might be perceived as humiliated.
Humiliation is a painful loss of pride, self-respect, and dignity.
But the truth is, I'm in charge of my self-respect and dignity. No one can take it away from me and no one can give it to me. As it pertains to others actions towards me, humiliation is rather a senseless emotion--a pothole or mudflat. As it pertains to my own behavior: my self-respect is something I can fully control. This is simple and this is complex.
Before I count myself the coward, I must remind myself that there are situations in which I put myself directly in harm's way, if harm is to be perceived as humiliation.
I write, direct, and produce plays which are offered up to audiences and critics.
I have taken a stand against this assailant humiliation at least in that realm in my life.
I don't let opinions of critics me stop me, although I do let them slow me down. And I sometimes forget the degree of difficulty of what I do. To be honest, I do not fully actualize my accomplishment or allow myself to feel the pleasure of creating something for the public eye. I did at first, then took my first blow from the critics, and in my years of shrugging off the pain, I think I also shrugged off the joy I felt of creating and completing, of seeing dreams come to fruition, and I believe it is a direct result of humiliation. I fear being humiliated by critics, so I squelch (second time I've used that word in this young blog) my inclination to feel joy.
That is what the fear of humiliation has cost me. It has caused me to feel indifferent about my passion. It hasn't exactly done any favors for my personal life, either.
After writing out my initial and honest feelings that I later redacted, I felt instant relief, fully knowing that I would never send those words to the recipient or share them with third parties. Something about actualizing them completely and thoughtfully healed me from the sting. I will remember this trick the next time I hit this pothole on a dark night.
Writing out those thoughts did something else for me. When I read them, I was not proud of what I wrote. I deleted them, and resolved to write something of which I could feel proud.
I started writing the script that's been in my mind since last summer. Yes, I pulled myself out of that mudflat, too. It's been a long time coming. When I go back to that script later tonight, I will do it not just with resolve and tenacity, I will do it with the joy I have long censured. When the joy comes back to my heart, the feelings will come back to my words. And they will lift me.
Humiliation resides in my perception and fears of what others think of me, and it robs me.
And I will no longer turn the other cheek when humiliation slaps and taunts me.
I will not tarry; I will rally.
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“When you soar like an eagle, you attract the hunters.”--Milton S. Gould.
I won't hide in fear of arrows. I'll fly high above them. In fact,
"I'm gonna fly like an eagle." --Steve Miller Band
“I'd like to see a nature film where an eagle swoops down and pulls a fish out of a lake, and then maybe he's flying along, low to the ground, and the fish pulls a worm out of the ground. Now that's a documentary.” --Jack Handy
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One of my favorite singers singing one of my favorite songs:
Neko Case, "Magpie to the Morning"
"Something on the thermals yanked your chain."
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