I've told you how I spent most of the 80's pissed off at the world. Well, I spent the 90's blurting out whatever thoughts came into my head. There was no filter that existed. They came into my head and went out of my mouth, virtually simultaneously. Some were observational, "That's a nice color on you but those stripes make you look huge." Others bordered on abusive, "Do you try to be an idiot or does it just come naturally?" And the classic, "F-YOU!".
The more insecure or powerless I felt in a situation, the more I would unleash a torrent of venom at some poor soul who dared to cross my path. An older woman I used to work with told me that I had the face of an angel and the mouth of a drunken sailor.
When I look back now, it's with a combination of shame for the way I was and love for my friends who were able to see through my angry facade. I ask them how they could have stayed friends with me and they say, "You weren't that bad."
I've since learned to gather my thoughts and review them before I say anything. I suppose it's the wisdom of maturity combined with a bit of soul searching. I am direct and I don't skirt around issues. However, I try to consider how the other person might react to what I have to say. I think diplomacy is a fine art to master and I admit, I'm still learning the craft.
Don't get me wrong. I know that we all come across people in the course of a day that we don't agree with and sometimes those disagreements can become well, downright nasty. It's funny because when that happens, I can feel the old Chrissy rearing her head and I think, "If you say that one more time, I'm gonna POP yo ass!!" Not that I ever really used the term "yo". Or "pop".
But the point is, I don't say it. I fake it. I take the high road and respecfully disagree even though my gut is saying, "Open your mouth one more time, you Mother F-er and I'll stick my foot in it." Then I laugh at the lunacy of my own thoughts and it snaps me out of it.
I think I learned that method from this guy I dated when I was 28. He was 6'5, jet black hair, blue eyes, great body. Dumb as a box of rocks. Picture a male Playboy bunny. Kendra for those of you who watch The Girls Next Door. Anyway, we would be out and God forbid if our table wasn't ready when we had reservations, it was enough to launch a tirade. He would just step back and not say anything until I looked at him and then he would just laugh and put a scowl on his face and say, "Yeah! You tell 'em, honey." And it would just snap me right out of it. Maybe he wasn't so dumb.
I have learned a lot about being a grown up. I've learned to laugh at myself and not take anything too seriously. I love being this age and having such a different perspective on life. I've lived my life with no regrets although that's not to say that I haven't made mistakes along the way. If I only knew then..
great thoughts love your blog keep it rolling
ReplyDeleteYeah...shoulda, coulda, woulda. That guy sounded HOT!
ReplyDeleteOh, Kathryn, he WAS hot but after a while, I couldn't take having to explain everything to him. My mother still asks about him, "whatever happened to...?"
ReplyDeleteWith age comes wisdom and restraint. But damnit, sometimes when I'm alone and I'm sure the neighbors at work, and I happen to stub my toe or get on the scale to find I've gained ANOTHER pound, I will still not hesitate to shout F**K!!!
ReplyDeleteTheresa, Oh, I still do it at home but I try to maintain some level of decorum at work or around people.
ReplyDelete