Punch Her In The Tits

There she was, headed straight to me in the frozen aisle. Her stature is hard to miss. As our carts approached each other, The Mexican standoff pops in my head; not today, I thought, never again. 

I stop and greet her with a smile, ‘Hey there.’ Her eyes soften, and I see by the wrinkles in her eyes, she is smiling back under the mask. We speak long enough to be polite, thoughtful, and kind to each other. 

I push my cart away, smile inward, and think, so, this is it, this is my landing strip…in the frozen aisle next to the BOGO frozen waffles… ok, noted universe. 

The Backstory

Last summer, we had a much different encounter. This is the woman I wanted to punch in the tits. I know, crass, but that is the emotion she evoked. I remember the day clearly and am embarrassed to tell you that it was over a game of tennis. Let me offer you a further explanation and set the scene so that you may fully appreciate how ridiculous the moment was. The Mexican standoff was over a game her team had lost the previous night. This woman was furious over the loss. So, there we were, forty-plus-year-old women, dressed in our Lululemon gear, on a gorgeous sunny morning, in front of the courts arguing over the results of a recreational tennis game. As the rest of our teams rolled in designer cars and fancy handbags. Are you catching what I am throwing at you? A bunch of spoiled, grown-ass women lucky enough to hit a yellow ball, for no other reason than we get to… not for sponsorships, not for compensation, not to feed our families, nope, we just get to. And there we were, arguing over the result of a match. Not to say that problems don’t exist, but on this day, this moment, it was pure assy (just made the word up, a derivative of an ass; asshole😊). Hence, the punching her in the tits sensation that overcame me.

Of course, I didn’t. I am a lady, most days…Instead, I took a breath and uttered something like, permission denied, you don’t get to speak to me this way and walked away. I huddled with my teammates and encouraged them to rise from the negativity. So even though I won that day by exercising strength and control with my temperament, I lost the tennis match. It bugged me, not the loss per se, but that I let her assitude (made that up too) get to me. I was angry with myself. She beat me at the mental game and got me off track; this happens to me; humanity disappoints me, and it takes me a hot minute to recover. 

The good news, that it was the 2020 version of Mic. I have been working on myself and have evolved. And these days, I am authoring up and dictating my own stories. I have given a handful of people (my tribe) editing rights. Otherwise, I have complete control. No doubt, 2020 was challenging on many levels, BUT it was also a glorious year. It was indeed one of the best years of my life. For one, I loved the extra time with Thing 1 and Thing 2. Also, I got to brand my hubby to commemorate twenty years of marriage (literally, we got inked with tattoos). I launched my blog, which has opened a whole new world. The cherry on top has been the clarity 2020 delivered. Personally, the year gave me 20/20 vision and I was able to pause, reflect and redirect. 

Pause

See, for a long time, I walked a very tight rope, living between two worlds. I am a sucker for people. I genuinely like people; I like them all; the weirder, the more interesting (mostly). I inherited many qualities from my mama, and engaging with people is high on the list. I tend to defend people and like to give people the benefit of the doubt. But then I heard Oprah say something that made me pause when people show themselves to you, believe them. I haven’t had a chance to ask her (yet ha!), but I think she’s saying ….

When someone spouts out hate …Believe them.

When someone is self-absorbed, opportunist, narcissist…Believe them

When someone disrespects other cultures and races…Believe them

When someone is constantly bad-mouthing others…Believe them 

When someone changes like a chameleon depending on who is in the room- Believe Them

When someone is an ass…Believe Them

Hmmm…is it that simple? I suspect ‘Believe Them’ also applies to people who show themselves as kind, compassionate, tolerant, empathetic, thoughtful…believe them too.

The problem is that even though I get the ‘Believe Them’ line, I also live by the words I heard from Diane Sawyer; I try to never make up my mind about people… She was likely referring to the way she approaches interviews, no matter what, everyone gets a chance to reset, to explain their story… (will need to ask her to clarify) 

I so get this too, and typically when I meet assy people, I tend to think:

Peel back layers…discover the good.

What happened to them? What caused them to be this way?

Show compassion…they are broken, wounded.

Give them another chance, don’t judge on one moment, one incident

They are having a bad day, cut them some slack

They are insecure and lonely…

They have so much hate…show them, love, be kind; they just haven’t had enough of the good stuff.

Ah, the old me was very conflicted and exhausted…it is challenging to live in a parallel universe, trying desperately to ‘get’ people and ‘change’ people and ‘believe’ in the good that exists in all of us.  

Reflect

Here’s the thing about reflecting. It sucks. It requires a candid conversation with oneself served up with huge portions of ‘for reals.’ Reflecting requires a deep dive inward to uncover deep, stubborn rubbish left behind. Remnants of a past that need to be excavated. So that’s what I did; I put on my oxygen mask and went diving in pursuit of my truths.

Why am I so vested in people, particularly outsiders? Why am I always the mediator? Why am I always the one to rise and be the bigger person? Why am I so insulted if someone doesn’t like me? (like hello, have you met me, I am a fantastic friend, you want me in your life…ahh, not so fast, Mic) Am I co-dependent with relationships? Is my happiness linked to their happiness, their breakthroughs, their problems? Why do I have to be the fixer of issues? Why am I the go-to person for sound advice? Why me?

It turns out I inherited all these false attachments to people early in my childhood. I took the role of pleaser, peacemaker, and the voice of reason. I also assigned myself the leading role of the adult in the room. I didn’t want any of these roles as a child, but that’s what I did to survive. I can also see how these roles gave me a warped sense of self-worth. Honestly, I never felt like I belonged as a child. So, I was determined to become the person that everyone could count on. If I was needed, then perhaps I had value. This all led me to become an adult too eager to help, too quick to accommodate, too fast to put everyone else’s feelings ahead of mine. It’s clear to see how distorted my thinking became.

Looking back forced me to take a long look in the mirror. To own my shit. That’s what I did; And I finally rid of all the false narratives.  

Redirect

The new Mic is self-aware. For starters, I remove myself from situations that no longer serve me. I am done trying to be something to everyone, and I have stopped trying to be liked or needed. I am done hanging with people who paint a narrow picture with opinions. My mama always says, ‘don’t argue with stupid, you can’t change stupid’; she’s right; I have stopped. I am redirecting my path. 

I am no longer interested in being around those who stir up negative feelings. It may sound selfish, but I am ok with it; I am looking out for myself. I have spent a lot of my life pleasing and tolerating others for the sake of human kindness. But dang, do you know what happens if you go the wrong way on a one-way street? You get run over. I choose to be with people I can merge with. This doesn’t mean we have to be perfectly aligned in thinking, not at all; that would be boring. But it does mean we can co-exist, ride alongside each other, and not crash into each other.  

I want to be challenged and can appreciate opinions that differ. I recently discussed transgender with one of my favorite gals. I disagreed with her opinion, but you know what, she shared her feelings. We both agreed that humans have a right to be happy. This was our starting point, so it made it relatively easy to discuss and to listen. Since neither of us is coming from a place of hate, we can meet in the middle and speak to each other with kindness and respect. 

I am building a protective wall, and naysayers are not welcomed. My wall of well-being feels good; I am tending to my inner voice and no longer dimming my light so others can feel better about themselves. I am taking a hard pass on people that don’t elevate my game in the human category. I am almost fifty, I want to spend time with illuminators. People that inspire and shine extra bright not only for themselves but for others. 

This Is Me

The process of becoming me came from the realization that my ego was directing my path. My ego wanted to be liked, my ego wanted to be a problem solver, my ego needed to fix people. My ego needed to feel important and needed. My ego also allowed too many scenarios/people to hijack my positive vibes. It allowed others’ negative feelings to stir inside me, and too often, I became judgmental, short, resentful, annoyed. I turned into a person that wanted to punch someone in the tits. NO. NO. NO. This is not who I am; this is not who I want to be. The ego bag I lugged around was weighing me down; I needed to set it down and leave it behind.

Laters ego, hello JOY. I get so much gratification from feeling joy that It has become my guiding light. Positive, happy people make me feel good. Optimism is contagious; talking with interesting people, learning, growing, and sharing is fulfilling. These days you can find me spreading joy and throwing kindness like confetti.

I used joy as a guiding light for a smooth landing in the frozen foods aisle. I used joy as an anchor to be present, to see a whole person in front of me, independent of me. No expectations, just two people talking. I was not there to forgive her or to psychoanalyze her. I was not there to be friends or to be liked. And I am most certainly was not there to hate her. All I needed to be, all I ever have to be, is me. This bag of JOY is easy to carry; this bag is weightless.