The original working title of this piece was, What was I Thinking? However, the more I pondered the subject matter, the more I realized that I needed to change the title. It’s not just my own flights of fancy I wanted to write about. I want to write about the many misconceptions people have about me, or maybe, better yet, what they hope for me.
My idea to write about this subject matter began after a very pleasant moment with a regular customer of mine. This time, our conversation went way beyond vitamins. I think I sparked the conversation by being rather cheeky with him. I was being my usual animated self when pointing out that the name of the toothpaste he was looking for was Spry. He looked at me with a grin and remarked, “I forgot who I was dealing with.” To which I responded, “Well, now you won’t forget the name of the toothpaste again, will you.”
This laughable moment led to a conversation about politics and gardening, you know, the usual entwined path those two ideas go on. From all we shared, I dared to dream that maybe this gentleman found me attractive and might possibly do something to move the relationship into a more personal realm. This customer has two professions, one of them being a chaplain. I thought to myself, that might be a nice change of pace for me, I could do that, I could be a nice girl and hang out with someone who has dedicated his life to God.
I realized that I had been thinking about him for quite some time, when I noticed a slip of paper in my home office. This paper had his information on it that I had gotten from work. I guess you can call me a stalker of sorts, but it proved to me that I was very much interested in the possibility of spending some personal time with this man. Through the help of a friend, I found him on Facebook. I’m not certain, but I’m thinking that he is not married. This allowed me to dare to dream that I could be of interest to him, this man who was so nice to me, shared this thoughts and dreams with me and, a man of the cloth.
The following day, I was in traffic and my usual road rage came bubbling up and flagrantly burst out of my mouth. Afterwards, I sadly hung my head and I had only one thought, “What was I thinking?” What was I thinking that I could be with a reverend? One car ride with me and he’d go running for the hills. I shared this thought with my work mentor and with his usual positive supportive self said, “Maybe he would be a good influence on you.” Yeah, right. I chucked that idea to the curb, but I held onto the piece of paper with his information, just in case I’m wrong.
A similar situation occurred a few days later. I was trying my best to be calm and Zen like while driving. I was keeping my distance, allowing others to drive as they will, without causing me grief, but then it happened. Someone didn’t make a left-hand turn when there was plenty of time and space before another car would prevent them from doing so, and my mind snapped. “That was a big fucking hole! You could have made it! What the hell is wrong with you?” I screamed out loud and then, I laughed. What was I thinking? Yeah, you being all Zen like…not possible.
Time and time again over the past week, well meaning folks have been trying to give me advice on one thing or another. I have had to stop them from rambling on about how I could improve my situation by saying, “Hello, my name is Gail. Have we met?” I have received suggestions on how I could rebuild something with a home improvement project, “I’m the person who uses duct tape and rubber bands to fix things, remember? It’s not going to happen.” Thoughtful suggestions about how I could improve myself with an exercise routine or change to my eating habits have been met by retorts of “I may die tomorrow, so I’m going to eat what I want to eat.” as I continue to slurp down my dirty martini with blue cheese stuffed olives, extra olives, please.
I’m so tired of trying to fix myself, or improve my life, but I’m even more tired of people trying to manipulate me in to doing things I’d rather not do. “You have to…” comments are shut down immediately by me saying, “I don’t have to do anything.” Which is why I think it’s best that I remain alone. I can’t even handle it when items aren’t where I put them because someone thought that they knew better or simply didn’t care enough to return them to the spot they found them in. I’ve been alone too long; my ways are set in stone and “compromise” has become a trigger word for me.
I could lie to myself and say that I’m just in one of my moods, but I don’t think that’s it. How I’m feeling of late, is more than a passing mood. I know the well-meaning suggestions are derived from love, but when they are spoken, all I really hear is how someone, that I know loves me, has no idea who I am at all. I don’t want to become a computer programmer, I don’t want to give up gluten, I don’t want to rearrange my living space to accommodate someone’s whim, why does everyone want me to change?
I’m thinking, and this is just a hypothesis, that these well-meaning souls believe that if I change, I will somehow be able to erase all the years of self-doubt and self-loathing. I may become the cheerleader/cookie cutter type of a woman that may be more desirable and then, I would be able to attract a mate and live happily ever after. I think I just vomit a little bit in my mouth. Simply put, it’s not going to happen. Maybe in my next lifetime, but there’s not enough time left, in this one for me to become that person. One does not simply erase all those years of fear and lies, the struggles and pain by fixing a kitchen cabinet door properly or losing a few pounds. It doesn’t work that way.
I’m not bad mouthing myself, so get that notion out of your head. No, I’m being honest with myself, more honest with myself than most people are brave enough to be with me, or themselves, for that matter. I know who I am, I just don’t know where I’m going. Maybe, it’s because of a soon approaching birthday, but I feel that I’m running out of time, time to figure out what my next step should be. I know the chaplain is not the answer. If a man were truly interested in me, after the conversation we had, I believe he would have made it back to the store by now, time’s up for that quest. No, he’s not the one brave enough to climb some mythical tower and save me from a life of solitude. I sincerely doubt, anyone is.
I’ve been focusing on my posture, straightening up whenever I feel myself slouching. I cannot end up an old hunchbacked woman with a cane, weak and reliant on most everyone for my mere survival, that simply won’t do. I need to stand up straight and tall, to be more focused on increasing my strength and survival skills like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2, I bet she wasn’t told to give up gluten. I need to feel like I could fight for my life if the situation were to present itself. I possess the survival skills, but I’ve lost the muscle mass I use to proudly own without trying. Well, I guess I need to try now. Swinging loads of groceries, just isn’t enough. I’ll figure it out, I always do.
Hello, my name is Gail. Have we met? If not, please don’t waste my time, or yours for that matter, with some self-help advice. Please don’t suggest that I move things where I do not want them to be or do things you know, in your heart of hearts, I do not want to do or, simply put, I may “Sarah Connor” your ass. If the reverend can handle that, bring it on!
#thelieswechosetolivewith
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