Articulate Thoughts (or not) on Discomfort (and some rambling)
I don't have the best routine for editing the things I purge from my mind. It hasn't really bothered me before now, since I've been secluded in my brain excrement (livejournal is, essentially, dead. It's taken me this long for it to sink in). However, I've been making my thoughts more and more public lately (via this here blog), and I think I'd like to do better.
That being said, I probably won't.
This is an entirely selfish endeavor. I don't think I'm going to change minds or create a new world order by telling the few folks to follow my facebook posts to this internet locale. Instead, I think I'm creating something. I'm sharing the parts of myself I don't want to keep secret any more. The parts of myself I'm too shy to tell you in person. Or maybe we don't see each other as much as we'd like. Or maybe we don't even know each other very well, but some inherently human curiosity drove you to click the link. Whatever the reason, I appreciate it, because right now this is my outlet.
MY outlet.
A place to say some uncomfortable things in the safety of my own home.
I've been really into gratitude lately, so I want to thank you for reading my words and taking them into yourself. It means something to know someone is paying attention.
I have all kinds of thoughts, both social commentary and personal struggles, but I'm not sure how to broach most of them. They're usually disconcerting topics that people are either way too passionate about (think: Thicke, Miley, etc.) or could drastically change how people look at me (family, co-workers, acquaintances). I don't know how I feel about being in the middle of those things, or confronting anyone with beliefs and ideals I hold true.
That's one of the reasons I purge here and not the facebook. This is a much more private forum. It takes an extra step to get here. Yes, I post a link for God and everyone to see, but it takes an act of choice to follow it. It takes consent. I feel wrong forcing people to see what I think, to respect fully a belief I may hold that is 100% contradictory to their own. It goes against how I have taught myself to behave. I believe in the golden rule, and to treat others how I wish to be treated, I have to respect the fact that people say things that feel so incredibly wrong to me.
I literally have to respect that.
But guess what folks? I disagree a lot. Like, on a regular basis. I would even go so far as to say every day. Hell, multiple times a day even. But I keep my damn mouth shut.
I'm not saying if I see someone say something absolutely awful I won't chastise them, or if I see someone hurting and know my words may help I don't speak up. I do. All the time.
But for the most part, I see these stupid socio-political posts that drive me up the fucking wall! I mean. . . Guys. Seriously? Is everyone so damn single minded and closed off to everything but their own fucking worldview? Is it impossible to take a moment to ponder and appreciate the differences of opinion we have? I think for most people its like, hardwired into them to be stubborn and ignorant.
Ignorance goes in every direction possible, just so we're clear.
Ignorance is part of the human condition.
I'm ignorant.
I dislike that knowledge, but I accept it as part of my identity. There is always room to learn something, especially from someone who's life has been shaped differently than mine. I don't always notice it at first. The first thing I realize is my own discomfort.
I remember one fateful night before my first year of high school. I was at The Lake (in North Dakota, everyone has a Lake. Usually its in Minnesota) with my Nana and Poppa. I was desperate to not be as uncool as I had been all through middle school, so I'd worked all summer to get a tan and be less awkward around people. It so happened there was this older boy who took pity on my sweet, innocent, utterly nerdy 13 year old self, and hung out with me in the Lounge (our Lake had a pool table and a jukebox that constantly had Baby Got Back playing). I had the hugest crush on him. Or, more likely, I was just fascinated that a boy was willing to talk to me. One night, we were sitting on the smokey old velour sofas that faced away from the pool table, talking. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I told him my worries about high school, how I was unpopular and socially rejected by my peers. I probably had a girl scout t-shirt on. I told him my whole plan for how to impress all the people who were mean to me in middle school, how I'd come back from vacation thin, with contacts, longer hair, and everyone would be so impressed that I'd had a boyfriend over the summer. . . He stopped me there. He told me he was gay.
My world stopped.
I'd never met a gay person. Now that I was sitting on a couch with one, I didn't know what to say. I was curious, but shocked. My insulated suburban (Catholic) life had never afforded me much opportunity to even think about gay people, let alone meet one. I barely remember what happened after that, but I do remember him being open and kind about it. He asked me if I had any questions for him. I didn't.
It was my first real taste of something different. That one moment in my young life changed a lot of how my future played out.
Gay people, in my mind, were debased and evil. But he was so nice! I genuinely liked him. I could barely believe it.
I avoided him the rest of his, and his boyfriend's, stay.
It took me until I was in my twenties to really understand what had happened.
I was uncomfortable, so I fled. I ran away from my feelings because we are programmed to dislike being uncomfortable. In the end, I wasn't ok with that. I regretted the way I behaved almost immediately. Not because I was unkind exactly, but because in the long run I had wanted to continue having someone nice to be around. Because it turned out I did have questions for him. I lost a real friend because I was too afraid to deal with my discomfort.
I don't flee anymore.
Discomfort is something you must come to terms with if you're ever going to ever really grow, change, or be happy.
I choose not to just come to terms with it, but to embrace it.
I don't like my parents faith or politics. To be frank, both give me the heebies. But I embrace their values, in a way, because I embrace them. I don't ask them to change for me because they are who they are. I respect that. We make each other uncomfortable, and that's ok. There is enough love that we are able to see the person behind the politics. I learned to stand my ground from them anyway, so how can I ask them not to do the same?
Sometimes my husband and I make each other uncomfortable. Like, to the point where I'm pretty sure both of us have felt like our insides are trying to claw and scramble their way out. Instead of turning away, trying to make that horrible feeling go away, we have embraced it. To grow in whatever direction it takes us. That's why we know we'll be together. That's why I knew I could be married to that man. He makes me profoundly uncomfortable. Together we continue to grow into one another more and more each time we get the beastly-insides feeling. The less we run away from our discomfort. Its hard fucking work. Its emotionally draining. It makes me chain smoke. It is so fucking worth it.
At the end of my life, I already know I'm going to look back in awe at all the things I accomplished just because I was willing to be uncomfortable.
That being said, I probably won't.
This is an entirely selfish endeavor. I don't think I'm going to change minds or create a new world order by telling the few folks to follow my facebook posts to this internet locale. Instead, I think I'm creating something. I'm sharing the parts of myself I don't want to keep secret any more. The parts of myself I'm too shy to tell you in person. Or maybe we don't see each other as much as we'd like. Or maybe we don't even know each other very well, but some inherently human curiosity drove you to click the link. Whatever the reason, I appreciate it, because right now this is my outlet.
MY outlet.
A place to say some uncomfortable things in the safety of my own home.
I've been really into gratitude lately, so I want to thank you for reading my words and taking them into yourself. It means something to know someone is paying attention.
I have all kinds of thoughts, both social commentary and personal struggles, but I'm not sure how to broach most of them. They're usually disconcerting topics that people are either way too passionate about (think: Thicke, Miley, etc.) or could drastically change how people look at me (family, co-workers, acquaintances). I don't know how I feel about being in the middle of those things, or confronting anyone with beliefs and ideals I hold true.
That's one of the reasons I purge here and not the facebook. This is a much more private forum. It takes an extra step to get here. Yes, I post a link for God and everyone to see, but it takes an act of choice to follow it. It takes consent. I feel wrong forcing people to see what I think, to respect fully a belief I may hold that is 100% contradictory to their own. It goes against how I have taught myself to behave. I believe in the golden rule, and to treat others how I wish to be treated, I have to respect the fact that people say things that feel so incredibly wrong to me.
I literally have to respect that.
But guess what folks? I disagree a lot. Like, on a regular basis. I would even go so far as to say every day. Hell, multiple times a day even. But I keep my damn mouth shut.
I'm not saying if I see someone say something absolutely awful I won't chastise them, or if I see someone hurting and know my words may help I don't speak up. I do. All the time.
But for the most part, I see these stupid socio-political posts that drive me up the fucking wall! I mean. . . Guys. Seriously? Is everyone so damn single minded and closed off to everything but their own fucking worldview? Is it impossible to take a moment to ponder and appreciate the differences of opinion we have? I think for most people its like, hardwired into them to be stubborn and ignorant.
Ignorance goes in every direction possible, just so we're clear.
Ignorance is part of the human condition.
I'm ignorant.
I dislike that knowledge, but I accept it as part of my identity. There is always room to learn something, especially from someone who's life has been shaped differently than mine. I don't always notice it at first. The first thing I realize is my own discomfort.
I remember one fateful night before my first year of high school. I was at The Lake (in North Dakota, everyone has a Lake. Usually its in Minnesota) with my Nana and Poppa. I was desperate to not be as uncool as I had been all through middle school, so I'd worked all summer to get a tan and be less awkward around people. It so happened there was this older boy who took pity on my sweet, innocent, utterly nerdy 13 year old self, and hung out with me in the Lounge (our Lake had a pool table and a jukebox that constantly had Baby Got Back playing). I had the hugest crush on him. Or, more likely, I was just fascinated that a boy was willing to talk to me. One night, we were sitting on the smokey old velour sofas that faced away from the pool table, talking. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I told him my worries about high school, how I was unpopular and socially rejected by my peers. I probably had a girl scout t-shirt on. I told him my whole plan for how to impress all the people who were mean to me in middle school, how I'd come back from vacation thin, with contacts, longer hair, and everyone would be so impressed that I'd had a boyfriend over the summer. . . He stopped me there. He told me he was gay.
My world stopped.
I'd never met a gay person. Now that I was sitting on a couch with one, I didn't know what to say. I was curious, but shocked. My insulated suburban (Catholic) life had never afforded me much opportunity to even think about gay people, let alone meet one. I barely remember what happened after that, but I do remember him being open and kind about it. He asked me if I had any questions for him. I didn't.
It was my first real taste of something different. That one moment in my young life changed a lot of how my future played out.
Gay people, in my mind, were debased and evil. But he was so nice! I genuinely liked him. I could barely believe it.
I avoided him the rest of his, and his boyfriend's, stay.
It took me until I was in my twenties to really understand what had happened.
I was uncomfortable, so I fled. I ran away from my feelings because we are programmed to dislike being uncomfortable. In the end, I wasn't ok with that. I regretted the way I behaved almost immediately. Not because I was unkind exactly, but because in the long run I had wanted to continue having someone nice to be around. Because it turned out I did have questions for him. I lost a real friend because I was too afraid to deal with my discomfort.
Discomfort is something you must come to terms with if you're ever going to ever really grow, change, or be happy.
I choose not to just come to terms with it, but to embrace it.
I don't like my parents faith or politics. To be frank, both give me the heebies. But I embrace their values, in a way, because I embrace them. I don't ask them to change for me because they are who they are. I respect that. We make each other uncomfortable, and that's ok. There is enough love that we are able to see the person behind the politics. I learned to stand my ground from them anyway, so how can I ask them not to do the same?
Sometimes my husband and I make each other uncomfortable. Like, to the point where I'm pretty sure both of us have felt like our insides are trying to claw and scramble their way out. Instead of turning away, trying to make that horrible feeling go away, we have embraced it. To grow in whatever direction it takes us. That's why we know we'll be together. That's why I knew I could be married to that man. He makes me profoundly uncomfortable. Together we continue to grow into one another more and more each time we get the beastly-insides feeling. The less we run away from our discomfort. Its hard fucking work. Its emotionally draining. It makes me chain smoke. It is so fucking worth it.
At the end of my life, I already know I'm going to look back in awe at all the things I accomplished just because I was willing to be uncomfortable.
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