Tag Archives: other people’s opinions

lessons learned, musings, narcissists

“Your value does not decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth…”

Special thanks to singer-songwriter Facebooker extraordinaire, Janis Ian, who posted today’s featured photo on her Facebook page a day ago. I follow Janis Ian, but I’m not one to watch her obsessively. I think she’s often funny and thoughtful, but sometimes she’s a little too “woke” for my tastes. I know that comment might annoy some people. I know some people really think it’s cool to be super “woke”. I’m not there yet. I will probably never be there. I am definitely more left leaning than I once was, but I’m never going to be one of those people who is trying to be an “example” to others. Hell, I have enough trouble simply accepting myself as I am.

I do, however, see a lot of wisdom in Janis Ian’s recent “quote of the day” from an unknown source. There have been many times in my life when I’ve been left feeling terrible because of a regrettable exchange with someone. There have been times when I’ve said or done something that has upset or offended someone and have felt terrible about it forever. When that happens, I will self-flagellate, feeling like total shit, and withdraw from others. I think some people get the mistaken impression that I’m being a snob or that I feel like I’m “above” them in some way. That’s really not true at all. I just don’t like to feel like I annoy people. I feel like it’s better to stay home. This COVID-19 lifestyle, in some ways, is a good thing for me. I have a good excuse not to mingle.

From the time when I was a small child, I’ve gotten the message from important people that I wasn’t acceptable or “good”. Now… it IS true that some people love me for exactly who I am. Bill is one of those people. He doesn’t find me annoying at all. He never criticizes my laugh. He doesn’t tell me to lose weight or put on makeup. He doesn’t grouse about the fine layer of dust on the furniture or the fact that I can’t be arsed to get out of my nightgown if I’m not leaving the house. Instead, he’s kind and loving, and he never makes me feel like I’m worthless.

But even though my husband loves me for who I am and that makes me feel good, sometimes I do have trouble with my self-worth. I’ll give you a ridiculous “for instance”. Those of you who have been following me for awhile may know that Bill and I had some real trouble with a previous landlady. This lady seemed to have a real problem with me. She clearly didn’t like me, and seemed to judge me negatively for my lifestyle.

At first, her criticisms were couched in pleasantries and niceties. But, as time went on, she became more hostile and negative. I started to feel badly about myself. I remember feeling anxious, living in her house, as she would come over and I would watch her face as she took in the “appearance” of our house. It’s true, I am not an obsessive housekeeper, but I’m certainly not a filthy person. I don’t spend all of my free time polishing glassware, wiping down baseboards, or using a microfiber dust rag to clean the dust between the pipes on the towel warmer or heaters. I just can’t be bothered to be that detailed. It’s not worth my time. But I do empty the garbage, wipe down the counters, clean the toilets and shower, wash dishes, and do laundry. And I do vacuum, clean up the dog shit, and do other chores as needed.

However, she’s the type of person who would do those extremely anal retentive cleaning chores on a regular basis. I would see her expression darken when she noticed a pile of leaves that was left unswept. One time, I watched her aggressively shovel snow off the driveway. I had made a walkway for the postman, which was what was required, but since I wasn’t going anywhere and was feeling sick, I put off shoveling the whole thing. She came over, unannounced as usual, and got visibly pissed that I hadn’t done the whole driveway. I could feel her radiating disapproval. Naturally, that made me feel bad, because I don’t like to disappoint people. I resolved to make sure the driveway was perfectly shoveled after other snowstorms, even if I was sick.

Another time, she read me the “riot act” when she saw a “dust bunny” consisting of Arran’s hair that was caught in the doorway. She yelled at me that the hair was “encrusted”. Of course it wasn’t, and it took maybe two seconds to wipe it up. I hadn’t noticed it because it really was insignificant, but she saw it and freaked out. Then she screamed at me about it, and even mentioned it in an email to Bill. She asked him at one time if we’d like her to find us a housekeeper, nastily adding “Don’t you want to live in a clean house?”

Wow… I’ll tell you what. The very LAST thing I would want is to hire a housekeeper that she found for us. Especially since it later became very clear that she wasn’t respecting our privacy. Aside from that, she wasn’t living in the house, so I didn’t feel that I needed to keep the house cleaned to her standards. Especially since we were paying her too much for the “privilege” to live there. And also, the house wasn’t that clean when we moved in, but then she and former tenant were “buddies”. I guess she got a pass.

Now, a lot of people might tell me that I should just ignore those comments, but I genuinely felt bad when she’d send Bill emails about my deficiencies as a housekeeper. I felt terrible and, at first, very ashamed, when she would yell at me for things that she felt weren’t “up to snuff”. I didn’t know what her standards were when we moved in. If I had known, we certainly would not have taken that house.

But, at least at first, I really tried to do things more to her standards. I dutifully cleaned the white plastic panels on the new doors she’d had installed. They were exposed to the elements and doomed to become discolored at some point, but I knew she wanted them to look nice, even if no one would care about that but her. She asked me more than once to clean them off regularly, so I did. I would attempt to clean the windows in the living room, so she wouldn’t freak out about the nose prints left by our dogs. I would try to be presentable, at least when I knew she was coming. And I tried to be cordial. For a long time, I was as pleasant as I could be, even when she inconvenienced me by showing up randomly or was intrusive.

One day, she reached the end of my patience by screaming at me in the living room about an awning that had collapsed on my watch. It was seventeen years old. I had pointed it out to her that the thing was leaning. She had her husband “fix” it. It appeared to be repaired, so I used it a few times after he did the work. On one very hot day, a gust of wind blew, and the awning collapsed.

Fortunately, I was not sitting under the awning when it collapsed, although ex landlady claimed that the fact that I wasn’t sitting under it was a sign of my “gross negligence”. She immediately blamed me, and yelled at me in my own home, not just for the awning that she failed to have properly repaired, but also for the fact that one of the electric rolladens was not properly installed and would not go down. She claimed it wasn’t working properly because I didn’t use it often enough, even though a repairman later said it wasn’t installed correctly. She had no thought at all for the fact that I could have been seriously injured or perhaps even killed if that seventeen year old awning that she hadn’t fixed properly had fallen on my head. Instead, I was the one who was “negligent” for using a supposedly “fixed” awning on a hot day and not being able to predict the wind.

It may be hard to believe, but I did feel bad that the awning fell on my watch. I knew money was an object for the landlords. I was sensitive to their not wanting to spend money. I didn’t object when she had her husband fix it instead of a real repairman. But I was not willing to accept the claim of negligence when I used something that was part of the house on a hot day, as she and her husband had actually said was appropriate use. All I did was unroll it. I wasn’t hanging on it or playing on it or anything like that. And sorry, I can’t predict the wind. I don’t think I’m “negligent” for not being under the awning when it suddenly fell. I think I am damned LUCKY. So is she.

After that exchange, Bill asked her not to speak to me about her concerns. That seemed to piss her off even more, since apparently I made for a convenient scapegoat for her frustrations. But she did leave me alone, for the most part, probably because she could tell I was frighteningly close to losing my shit the last time she yelled at me. I think she could also tell that I could easily match her in intensity and nastiness, if I was really pushed to go there.

It may seem hard to believe, but I genuinely felt terrible when things went wrong. By the time I left that house, I really felt pretty awful. She had done a good job making me feel “guilty” about how “terrible” I am. Even though I was LIVID by the way she treated Bill and me– especially me— the truth is, her comments made me feel bad about myself. I wondered if she was right that I’m a shitty housekeeper and a lazy, worthless person. She didn’t actually say those words to me, and yet that was the message I got– repeatedly.

It took weeks in our current home before I finally felt comfortable. I was anxious for so long, expecting her to come over and complain about some aspect of my housekeeping that displeased her. I knew that she was not our landlady anymore, but yet I expected our new landlord to be like her. I dreaded talking to him because of her. She did real psychological damage to both of us. She falsely accused us of theft and trashing her house, and when Bill asked for a fair accounting of why she was keeping most of our security deposit, she became hostile, nasty, and really laid on the shame and guilt in an attempt to get him to back off. It was absolutely infuriating, especially since Bill is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and is generous, respectful, and fair to a fault!

I think of so many people whose homes I’ve been in that were genuinely dirty and cluttered far worse than mine ever was. I think of all of the people I know who would have blown up with profanities at ex landlady the first time she yelled at them. I think of the people who would think nothing of paying rent late, or not at all. And then I think to myself… “I’m the worst tenant she’s ever had? Really? She’s been lucky.” Karma will fix that.

What she was doing was egregious bullshit… and I can’t help but wonder if we’d been less “nice” and “kind” about her blatantly disrespectful behavior, maybe she might not have so blatantly tried to take advantage of Bill’s good nature. Like, maybe if I’d given into the instinct to yell back at her, she might have not been so totally horrible to us, and we might not have had to sue her. Even after a settlement was reached, it still took months and a nastygram from our lawyer before she finally gave us our money.

But we were both trained to accept abuse. I have a much lower threshold than Bill does, but I still have the capacity to overlook bad behavior in the interest of keeping the peace. Maybe that’s not a good policy. I have already told Bill that I don’t ever intend to tolerate that kind of living situation again, but the truth is, sometimes you kind of have to… a lot depends on money, doesn’t it?

Now I am mostly recovered from that experience, aside from some residual anger. There are scars, of course, and I think it’s a pretty fair bet that I won’t be forgetting her. But I realize now that her apparently very negative opinions of me don’t necessarily reflect reality, nor do they apply to how others see me. No matter what, I have basic worth, just as everyone does. Even the worst people in the world usually have at least one person in their lives who love them on some level. And that is as true for me as it is for most people.

There have been other instances in my life where I have left a situation feeling awful about myself. I recently wrote about ghosts of traumatic Christmases past. One of the reasons I swore them off is because so many of them left me feeling horrible. I had to detox from the toxicity for days or weeks, ruminating about the dramas that would erupt among so-called loved ones. All I ever wanted was to live in peace, on my own terms, and as my authentic self. If other people can’t stand me, so be it. But so many people want to change their friends and loved ones, not recognizing their worth and uniqueness. If one has a conscience or any sense of shame, this can be devastating to one’s self-esteem and self-image.

I think this is a skill that is essential for living, learning to accept oneself for being a unique person and having basic worth. But, as we’ve seen, especially since the pandemic started, people are really BIG on judging and shaming others. Judging and shaming people, lecturing them, and not trying to empathize with them is a great way to alienate them and cause them to be even more entrenched in their beliefs. A lot of the judging behavior comes from frustration, of course. In terms of the pandemic, we’re all tired of hearing about sickness and death, being subjected to restrictions, rules, and talk of overwhelmed healthcare facilities. Many people are truly frightened, especially those who have lost loved ones and friends to the sickness.

I’ve read so many comments from people who say that they have no more empathy. They have no more patience. And when someone dies of COVID, especially if they were unvaccinated, some of them even LAUGH about it. I guess I can understand why people feel like that and act that way, but I don’t think that attitude does anything to change behavior or inspire cooperation. People tend to focus more on their egos and injured pride than the frustration and despair that drives some of the more judgmental behaviors. I’m as guilty of that as a lot of people are, although I try not to be that way. I just don’t think it helps. We’re all human, though…

I’m even sure that, on some level, our former landlady believed the lies she told herself. Or maybe, from her perspective, we really are filthy, dishonest, thieving, unhygienic people who don’t respect other people’s property. But no one else has ever said that about us. And our current landlord has cheerfully told us we’re welcome to stay as long as we want. That’s a nice vote of confidence.

I felt good yesterday when I fixed the faucet in the downstairs bathroom all by myself. It was easy to do. But as I was doing the work– descaling the tap with white vinegar and removing the calcium buildup that had blocked the spigot– I couldn’t help but think of the way the landlady made comments that were intended to make me feel small, negligent, and incompetent. I know that they weren’t a reflection of reality. It was gaslighting, intended to make me more inclined to accept her abuse and her assessment of me and my “shortcomings”.

Fortunately, I’ve already been through therapy. 😉 It’s hard to believe we paid over $2000 a month for that treatment from the former landlady. We should have “fired” her after the first year. Life is short. Lesson learned.

Quote Investigator says that Twitter user debihope apparently constructed this popular quote, which has been falsely attributed to Sigmund Freud and William Gibson, among others.

So… if you take anything valuable from today’s post, I hope it includes the idea that other people’s apparent negative views of you might not be rooted in reality. In fact, they may be their attempts to train you to accept their abuse. Take their comments and opinions for what they’re worth… definitely with a grain of salt. Do what you can to protect yourself, and protect your sense of self-worth. After all, as Janis Ian shares in an unattributed quote, “Your value does not decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth…” Wise words indeed. Don’t forget them.

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condescending twatbags, social media

Mask-misanthropy…

Face mask activism is continuing apace on Facebook and other social media platforms. Most recently, it’s become increasingly popular for people to post memes that say, “Wear a damn mask.” How do you feel when you see that meme? I know how I feel. When I see that meme, I feel aggressive, irritated, offended, and rebellious in response. I want to tell off the person who posted it. And I feel this way, even though I do wear the mask and accept that they might be helpful… not because I am convinced they will save mankind, but because they are required and I don’t enjoy being harassed.

It’s easier to wear a mask and get in and out of whatever needs doing in public, and then go home, than deal with aggressive, obnoxious, overbearing people who lack basic manners. But it sure doesn’t make me feel very good about living. In fact, it makes me wonder if it’s worthwhile to stick around this shithole of a planet. I mean, if this is the way people are going to be from now on, why bother?

I want to ask the people who post these memes if that’s really how they speak to their friends and family. Do they immediately swear at them and make demands? Do they really do this to strangers offline? If we were to meet offline, would this person snarl, “Wear a damn mask!” at me? That’s kind of the effect one gets, looking at those memes. They’re aggressive and off-putting. But then, people seem to be unusually aggressive and unpleasant lately.

I probably have this opinion mostly because I read comments. Judging by comments on social media, most people really are assholes and they lack the ability to have a respectful conversation with other people with different perspectives. Even so-called reporters of local news are becoming assholes. Case in point… this article shared on a site called Mission Local, which is apparently a San Franciscan news source. Writer Joe Eskenazi’s title is “Just wear a damn mask — and focus your anger where it belongs”. When I read that headline, I immediately feel angry and rebellious. I picture myself crossing my arms and telling Joe to go fuck himself. When you come at me with aggression, I want to respond in kind… and I’m basically compliant about masks. Imagine how the people who resolutely refuse to wear them feel about this approach. It probably makes them angry, too, and doesn’t actually inspire them to comply.

I did read the comments on Joe’s piece, though, and there was one person whose comments I agree with wholeheartedly. I thought the person was basically respectful and he made sense. However, Joe’s responses to him were rude and dismissive. Have a look:

I think LA and CHADNFREUD make sense and are basically civilized. But Joe is eager to discount and insult them, treating them in a patronizing manner. That is not what wins hearts and minds. That is what makes people want to punch your lights out.

Other commenters wrote this:

Notice how rude the responses are.

I think people on both sides of this issue have a right to be upset and angry about what’s happened over the past few months. I also think people have the right to be heard and responded to in a respectful manner. Ordering someone to wear the “goddamn mask” is not respectful or kind, and it begs a similar response in retort. When people are unnecessarily rude and aggressive to me, I am often tempted to respond that way myself. Fortunately, I usually stop myself before I go there. I don’t enjoy fighting with people, and the vast majority of people who are virtue signaling with this crap aren’t worth the effort, anyway.

I get that people are scared and frustrated. If I were in the United States, dealing with all of the craziness that is going on there, I might feel very differently about this issue. In fact, I might even be on the “wear the damn mask” bandwagon. But I’m not, and frankly these kinds of posts just make me feel berated, belittled, and like I’d rather not live anymore. That is a hallmark of depression, and depression is a serious but under addressed issue right now. The experts are starting to recognize that depression and COVID is a real thing. When I typed those search terms into Google, this is what came up:

Take a deep breath and think before you curse at someone… especially someone you don’t know. Consider whether or not your social media posts are about actually changing behavior or just virtue signaling and venting.

I read an interesting article about depression and COVID on The Atlantic. The author, James Hamblin, cited the case of one man who had closed down his acupuncture clinic and immediately suffered for it mentally. Falcone, the man Hamblin cited said, “I went into a pretty instant depression when I realized that my actual purpose was disintegrating. I’ve lost faith in myself. I don’t know if I can actually justify taking up space and resources.” I’ve actually felt this way myself for a good portion of my lifetime, so I really related.

Hamblin, who is a physician, lecturer at Yale Medical School, and a staff writer at The Atlantic, wrote:

After I confirmed with Falcone that he had no intent to harm himself, I recommended that he seek medical help. But given the unprecedented circumstances we’re all in, I’m not sure whether I under- or overreacted—or even what “help” should look like, exactly. The pandemic is a moment of historic loss: unemployment, isolation, stasis, financial devastation, medical suffering, and hundreds of thousands of deaths globally. Suddenly droves of people are being thrown into a state like Falcone’s, feeling lost, hopeless—in his words, “depressed.”

People have a lot of reasons to feel depressed and hopeless right now. Maybe that’s why people are being so aggressive and uncivilized about the issue of face masks. I’m seeing a lot of people who seem extreme on either side of this issue. This morning, there was a post– one of those annoying ones done on a background with stethoscopes– declaring that face masks will soon be legally mandated, like seatbelts, and implying that they should be. Against my better judgment, I posted that I hoped not, since I am counting on these measures being temporary. The poster came back and reiterated that the masks are like seatbelts. But they aren’t, really. It has always been dangerous to ride in a vehicle without a seatbelt. Not wearing a face mask has only been an issue for a few months so far. Moreover, it took many years to get the majority of people to wear seatbelts. If that ever happens with face masks, I hope I’m already long dead. I’ll probably become a permanent shut in.

I do not want to think of the rest of my life being like this. And my reality isn’t even all that bad. There are many people who have it much worse than I ever will. But this is not a pleasant way to live… and I wonder what the point is. Especially if the virus is here to stay and we’re probably all going to be exposed to it eventually, whether or not we’re wearing the “goddamn masks”.

Most people don’t mind wearing pants because not wearing them would be uncomfortable and embarrassing, especially during the cold months, when shrinkage would be an issue. I don’t think the face mask is quite the same thing, especially when it’s 90 degrees outside. And I hope wearing the mask is never as “essential” as wearing pants is. What good is a meme like this? Who will it convince?

We’re all in this together, and it’s better to try to be kind and empathetic than hostile and aggressive. Being rude, dismissive, discounting, and profane to perfect strangers just to get your point across is not likely to be met with success. I’m beginning to think that my “friends” who repeatedly post this kind of stuff maybe shouldn’t be my friends anymore.

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Trump

Mutual feelings…

I got a funny comment on a link on my official OE FB page yesterday. Someone implied that I’m an idiot. I don’t even think she bothered to read the offending post that prompted her to insult me. I think she was reacting to the photo with the post, which was of a grey, long-sleeved, t-shirt that had a picture of an orange version of the poison control’s Mr. Yuk on it and a caption that read “tRump is an idiot. Stay away.”

She wrote, “The only idiot I see…”

Who? Moi? I wasn’t absolutely sure what she was saying, so I went looking on her Facebook page to clarify. Sure enough, she had a 2019 era link to a post about Donald Trump and a personal comment about how awful it is that so many people “hate” him. She writes that those of us who disdain Trump must be “miserable”, and she “prays” for us because we’re so negative. She actually referred to those who oppose Trump as “haters”. From that, I surmised that she supports Mr. Trump and doesn’t understand why so many of us dislike him so much. Her comment on the link she shared was pretty thoughtful and reasonable. I might be willing to have a discussion with someone who practices what she preaches. But then she came on my OE FB page yesterday and called me an “idiot”, even though we’ve never met and she didn’t even engage me in a meaningful conversation. So I’m not sure she’s innocent of being hateful herself.

The woman’s last name is Fletcher, so I was inspired to dedicate a song to her. She appeared to be old enough to get the reference. If you were around in the 1980s, you probably remember it, too.

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” I used to play this song on my radio show when I was in college, ages ago.

I’ve never seen Ms. Fletcher on my social media before, and I doubt I’ll see her again. I don’t even know how she found herself on my Overeducated Housewife Facebook page. It’s not a very busy page, and I’ve decided that’s the way I like it. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t write this blog for money or fame. It’s just a place for me to express my opinions and share travel and music adventures. I leave it open for those who enjoy it. Since I moved to WordPress, I get a lot less traffic and fewer mean comments. But this blog is starting to pick up steam, so I suspect I’ll start getting more nastygrams from strangers who don’t like what I have to say.

Being called an idiot isn’t a big deal. At least Ms. Fletcher didn’t call me a cunt, like ‘ol Bill did. I’ll even admit that sometimes I am legitimately an idiot. However, when it comes to my opinions about Donald Trump, I don’t think I’m an idiot at all. The man has always been shady and creepy. The fact that some people voted for him in red states and made him the president of the United States doesn’t change my opinions about him. He’s not worthy of being the president. Any man who openly brags about grabbing women by the pussy should NOT be involved in world leadership, as far as I’m concerned. Trump has done a whole lot more bad things besides making misogynistic comments, but the minute he started bragging about molesting women at will, he should have been knocked out of contention for the White House. In 2020, we don’t need a sexual predator running the United States.

As I am still an American citizen, and we are the “land of the free and the home of the brave”, I feel quite alright in sharing my opinions about him– the most public of public figures— with those who care. Isn’t freedom of expression still one of our greatest liberties in the United States? Of course, it looks to me like Mr. Trump would love to muzzle the press and opinionated people like me. He doesn’t like to be criticized.

About an hour after I left that cute parody song for Ms. Fletcher, I noticed a spike in hits on another post I wrote about Trump supporters. They almost all came from several communities in Tennessee, very close to the Alabama border. One link came from Texas. I figure someone must have shared the link on Facebook, or something, because I got lots of hits all of a sudden on that one post. I assume they were friends and neighbors from the same community; perhaps even people in a local Facebook group. I decided to look up the places from where the hits were coming. Interestingly enough, one hit came from Pulaski, Tennessee.

I come from Virginia, and we have a Pulaski there, too. I was curious, so I looked up Pulaski, Tennessee, and read about its racist history. Pulaski is where the Ku Klux Klan was founded back in 1866. Nearby Franklin, Tennessee is where the first lynching of a Jewish man ever took place in the United States. On August 15, 1868, Samuel Bierfield was fatally shot by a horde of masked men who were believed to be members of the Ku Klux Klan. Bierfield was born in Latvia and came to Toronto in the 1850s. His life’s journey brought him to Franklin, Tennessee in 1866, where he opened a store and hired a black man named Lawrence Bowman. The two men were attacked; Bierfield was shot four times in the head at point blank range. Bowman was badly wounded and later died of his injuries. No one was ever charged with a crime.

The other hits from Tennessee were also from around that same area, not far from the Alabama border. I got pings from Lawrenceville, Tennessee, Leoma, Tennessee, Franklin, Tennessee, Columbia, Tennessee, and Lewisburg, Tennessee, as well as a couple of hits from League City, Texas. Now… it’s possible that there are people in those towns who feel the same way about Donald Trump that I do, but somehow I doubt it. I come from a conservative Southern town in Virginia myself, and I have an inkling about what life is like in small town America where people tend to vote Republican. Moreover, it seems that Tennessee still embraces racism, where people celebrate Nathan Bedford Forrest Day. Nathan Bedford Forrest was a Confederate general and a Ku Klux Klan leader. Last year, Tennessee Governor Bill Lee signed a proclamation declaring July 13 Nathan Bedford Forrest Day, thanks to an obscure 1971 law requiring that the governor issue proclamations for six state holidays each year, including days for Nathan Bedford Forrest and Robert E. Lee.

Maybe the people from Tennessee reading my post about Trump supporters were reading because they feel the way I do about Trump, but I have a feeling that they don’t. I wonder why they’d want to know my thoughts about their dear leader. Why does it matter to them what I think? Why look to be offended by one woman’s thoughts on a little read blog? No one left me a comment, but I’ll bet they were discussing my article on Facebook. I wouldn’t be shocked if they were posting degrading things about me. But since I don’t look to be offended, I’m not going to try to find out what they think about me. I’d rather not know.

When you’re a woman in a military community and have the nerve to refer to yourself as an “overeducated housewife”, you get a good dose of the nasty attitudes some ignorant folks from small towns harbor toward “uppity women” who dare to share their views. Those types of people– most of whom are white, southern men– prefer their women to be pretty, petite, polite, obliging, and docile. If you’re a woman who isn’t naturally like that and you refuse to change, you can expect to be on the receiving end of abuse. I’ve been called all sorts of distasteful names by people, but it doesn’t really matter. People I have loved have said worse things to me, so why should I care what some random yahoo on the Internet thinks?

I was raised by a conservative, southern, white man who didn’t like me very much. The feeling was mutual, if I’m honest. My dad often verbally told me that he loved me, but he also let me know in no uncertain terms that he didn’t much like me. He often complained about my laugh, saying it was too loud and “cackle like”. He said I was too opinionated and obnoxious. He said I was too fat, and called me “bitchy”. He accused me of being arrogant, and when it turned out that I had inherited a nice singing voice from him, tried to compete with me, even going so far as hiring the same voice teacher.

My dad said I’d never make more than minimum wage or find anyone to love me. Fortunately, he was wrong on both counts. There have been times when I’ve been paid hourly as much as six times the federal minimum wage. Since I married Bill, who is himself a white, southern man, I don’t even have to worry about making money. At least for now, Bill makes enough to support us quite comfortably, and he doesn’t mind sharing his wealth with me. By the way, my husband was very much loved by my dad, who appreciated the fact that Bill had served his country in the Army. One thing my dad was proud of me for was that I served my country in the Peace Corps. But other than that, he didn’t seem too impressed with me as his last descendant. He was usually a lot more critical than complimentary when it came to his opinions about me.

One time, my dad said he thought I was “nice looking”. I laughed and said, “You’re my dad; you have to say that.” His retort was, “No, I don’t.”

When people had a problem with me, more often than not, my dad would take the other person’s position. Sometimes, when I would express a thought, my dad would say derisively, often in front of other people, “Nobody cares about your opinion.” When I was living with my parents and had a room with its own bathroom, my dad would sometimes go out of his way to use it. He wouldn’t flush after peeing, so I’d later find his stale urine in the toilet, just as if he was a dog marking his territory.

At my sister’s graduate school graduation in 2003, when I was 30 years old and married, my dad chastised and humiliated me loudly in front of a crowd of strangers. I wanted to strangle him right then and there, but we had to get through a celebratory lunch.

By the time my father died in 2014, our relationship had become quite complicated. I was the only one of his four daughters who didn’t care to help spread some of his ashes at Virginia Military Institute. I still harbor a lot of ill will toward him and, I’m afraid it sometimes comes out when I run into certain types of people on the Internet.

So yeah… I have heard a lot of bad things from men over the years, some of them in the form of mean-spirited comments from men I’ve actually loved. A lot of men have tried to put me in my place and shut me up through shaming, insults, bullying, threats, and intimidation. I’ve run into some women who are like that, too. Bullies come in all shapes, sexes, and sizes. It’s taken me a long time to decide to fight back against bullies with conviction, but now that I’ve started, I won’t ever go back to being a victim.

But, for all I know, the hits from last night were all from people like Ms. Fletcher, who evidently simply respects Trump because he’s the president, and thinks we all should, too, even if he doesn’t act like someone respectable. She called me an “idiot” in a roundabout kind of way, which I guess is her right. So she thinks I’m an idiot. The feeling is mutual. But the rest of those hits from the KKK hotbed in Tennessee make me suspicious. I’m glad I live in Germany, where people aren’t armed to the teeth and automatically brimming with hatred toward those who see things differently and dare to express themselves. Germans have a troubled history, but they are wise enough to have mostly learned from it. I have hope that more Americans will learn, too.

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psychology

The wrong idea…

I saw the above photo this morning and decided I had to add it to my personal collection. There’s so much truth in it, especially for me. My whole life, I’ve been called “weird”, even by supposed loved ones. I suspect I have this problem because I have an outspoken personality and a rather well-developed vocabulary… (in English, anyway). Many people tend to chafe at anyone who doesn’t go along with the crowd. I don’t like hanging out in groups, nor do I enjoy having queen bee types trying to tell me what to do. I like having good friends, but I prefer to see them one on one or in small groups. I also have a very unique laugh that annoys some people. I can’t help it. It’s the laugh God gave me. It’s loud and distinctive and I’ve caught shit my whole life for it. Other people find it “infectious”. I like ribald, inappropriate humor. Bring on the fart jokes and oversharing. I’m all over it.

For many years, I tried to be more like the way other people said I should be. I can remember agonizing in grade school and high school, trying not to say or do such “weird”, offbeat things and trying to tone down my raucous laugh. Nothing worked, and I became really depressed because I didn’t think I’d ever find a tribe who accepted me for who I am. I also figured I’d wind up an old maid, since I didn’t have a lot of dates. But stifling my true self led to self-loathing and destructive habits. After years of trying to fit my square self into a round hole, I decided I needed to simply be the most authentic version of who I am.

The lovely thing about getting older is realizing that you’re never going to please everyone. Someone will always find something to dislike about you. Fortunately, in most cases, just as many people will find something to love. I have a number of wonderful friends, and even a few family members, who think I’m just great. My husband, who is himself one of those people who works hard at being liked, has told me more than once that he admires my ability to express myself. I have helped teach him that being “liked” isn’t always the best thing, especially when it causes you to compromise your own values. It’s still hard for him to stand up for himself, but he’s now better able to do it than he used to be. He’s told me that it’s partly because he sees that not being liked isn’t the end of the world, because in most cases, for every one person who dislikes you, there’s another who will get everything you are and love you for it.

I have a friend who is struggling with some life choices right now. She’s around my age and has decided to go back to school for a master’s degree. She’s been in other master’s programs and has never been able to finish, mainly due to the programs not being a good fit for her. Still, she has the drive to keep trying and one day succeed. Recently, she announced her decision to get a master’s degree in social work. I piped up to tell her that I have a MSW myself. I don’t use it, or either of my other two degrees, in a professional manner. However, I can’t say that I regret any of the degrees I’ve earned, especially now that they’re paid for. Each educational experience was worthwhile and each one left me with new skills and knowledge. I do use the skills and knowledge, just not in the manner in which I expected.

I told my friend that she’ll find that the emphasis in social work is encouraging clients toward achieving self-determination and adapting situations to work for specific clients. I encouraged her to look at herself as her very first client. The first step is to ignore the naysayers and do what works best for her situation. Social work is going to require a lot of hands on work, paper writing, group work, and hours. My program, had I not done a dual degree with public health, was 60 hours. With the public health degree, it was 81 hours. I actually completed 90 hours– 84 for the graduate degrees and two undergrad prerequisite classes. I took an extra graduate class because I was interested in the topic and thought it would be useful. It might have been, if my life had gone the way I planned it once I determined that I was an old maid. But then, it turned out I wasn’t an old maid, and I got swept into the globetrotting Army wife lifestyle. So now, here I sit, writing these sage words for those who care to read them.

There is more than one way to get through life. What works for one person doesn’t always work for the next. Each person is cut out for different things. You can’t control what people will say or think about you, so it does no good to worry too much about it. People have their own reasons for thinking and feeling the way they do, and you’ll never fully be able to know or understand the vast majority of those reasons. I’m sure that my personality triggers people positively and negatively, because I’m not particularly laid back and I tend to say exactly what I think. If I don’t say it verbally, it usually comes out on my face. I have very expressive eyes and facial expressions that often do my talking for me. That’s why I tend to be verbally direct. The eyes don’t lie.

If I don’t say something out loud, I’ll often write it. People read what I write and some people connect to it. Other people get angry or offended and try to silence me. I’ve gotten plenty of negative feedback on posts I write on my blogs. It always surprises me how upset people can get when another person dares to express themselves, even on something like a blog post. It’s like they can’t fathom how or why someone might want to write something down. They can’t seem to understand why I would write something so upsetting to them, seeming to forget that I don’t even know the vast majority of the people who read my words, and they don’t know me. I have no idea what most people’s personal situations are, or what will trigger them. Most of what I write isn’t for other people anyway. It’s for me. Moreover, while this is mostly a public blog, it’s still my space. Anyone who reads this has come into my space, the same way they might visit another person’s home. Everyone is free to leave my home anytime they want to.

I can be funny and entertaining for some people, yet others have told me I rub them the wrong way. I find that it’s usually “leaders” and controlling types who don’t like me, because I’m not much of a follower. I don’t take orders well, particularly if I sense that the person doing the ordering is not worthy of being followed. I do best when I work independently and am allowed to be creative.

I haven’t seen my friend in person in many years. We knew each other in high school and are now connected only on Facebook. She’s always struck me as smart, talented, caring and kind. While there’s a pragmatic side of me that would worry about trying so many different academic programs, there’s another side that thinks about how short life is… and how there are only so many opportunities to try new things. People are going to say whatever. They’re going to think what they’re going to think. It’s her life… and this is my life. When it comes down to it, deep down, most people know what’s in their hearts and what they can do.

There’s so much truth in this. The older I get, the more I realize that other people’s opinions, especially about me and what I do, are none of my business… because they are mostly formed by things that have nothing at all to do with me.

While I wish I were still as young, healthy, and pretty as I used to be– even though my love life is much better in my 40s– I would not want to relive any part of my life. Wisdom is a good thing. So is the ability to tell other people to fuck off without fearing repercussions. In my case, telling people to fuck off happens verbally or non-verbally. I can’t help it. But I really am a nice person deep down… I have a big heart and a great capacity for compassion. If people want to think I’m more of a bird flipping lion, that’s on them. Sometimes being thought of in that way is also advantageous.

Those are my deep thoughts for today. Now it’s time to watch Bill brew his latest homebrew.

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