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Rarely Have I Been So Misunderstood
posted Thursday, 15 May 2008
I love that line...I just read it in my More magazine - you know the magazine for us 40+ ladies. Hot Helen Mirren is on the cover, bustin out all over...I think it's a couple months old but that just goes to show you how up to date I am in my life. I'm like a watch that runs two months slow.
Anyway, my title is stolen from an article by Patricia Volk entitled, "Ten men I'm glad I didn't marry." She talks about ten different ex boyfriends and in little quippy statements, sums up why she let them get away. One man adored her and proposed precipitously and she evidently broke his heart. Then she writes, "Rarely have I been so misunderstood." And just like gestalt theory dictates, reading that allowed a whole bunch of things to just click into place in the madam's brain.
To make a long story short, some of my cyber escapades during the mid life crisis brought me back into contact with people from my past. Two boys in particular. Both of whom have disappeared and not answered emails. It's okay - it happens all the time - there is an initial flurry of communication that tapers off when you rediscover people. But given my obsessive tendencies (oh, you didn't notice those? hahahahah - keep reading this blog.), disappearing people upset me. Unfinished business upsets me. I know, also, that I may have offended both individuals, and I've tried to apologize. Sometimes the madam is alittle too carefree, particularly in cyberspace. And I keep thinking that these two people, since they KNOW me, should understand that and throw me a bone. But out of everyone I spoke to again at my reunion and heard from through classmates.com, and googling, it figures it's them: These two ding-dongs are the ones who left me frustrated on a daily basis when I saw them regularly. Some conversations are just a slalom ride down a snowy mountain. Others feel like track meets with barriers set up every ten feet. What is that event called? Well, that's how it was talking to these guys a lot of the time. So of course they don't think it's unkind to disappear. Of course they don't get why it would bother me. They NEVER got me.
And when you're this articulate gemini communication person, who leaves no stone unturned in even the most minor conversation, you THINK it's impossible for someone not to understand you. And quite honestly, if you don't get me, something just might be wrong with you. I know that sounds horrible, but honestly, ask anyone who knows me. There's not a lot to misread. Not a whole lot of ambiguity going on here. My thoughts: in brain, out mouth. My feelings: written all over my face. I'm cellophane girl. Play poker with me - you'll win.
Soooo I guess my point is that I really relate to that line, "rarely have I been so misunderstood." And that it's time to let it go. By nature, I am a "fixer." Ask any adult child of an alcoholic and they'll probably have millions of stories of all the people they tried to save, the friends they wanted approval from, the lengths they went to to "make things right." We are notorious for taking in strays - we attract needy people like magnets. It takes us years to say no, to establish boundaries, to NOT let just anyone have a piece of us.
It appears to be some primal urge to control, to make up for a time in your life when you had no control - when daddy and mommy are screaming at each other and you're hiding at the top of the stairs, wondering what will happen next. It's a childish belief that if you're really, really good, and do everything you're supposed to, life will be fair. There will be joy in Mudville. And people will value you.
Happily, I truly have gotten over the whole people-pleasing aspect in most areas of my life. I even get a kick out of the people who don't like me. Sometimes I even make it worse. There's one woman in particular who greets me like Seinfeld when he saw Newman. "Hellooooo Newman..." (all snarky). She's always: "Helllooooo Madam," with her nose scrunched up like she smells something bad. She spent the first two years of our acquaintance calling me the wrong name. I may have liked it better that way.
But when the person who disapproves of me is someone closer to me, I still have a hard time. There's always this voice saying, "Maybe if I did this...or said that...." And if its someone who broke my heart, despite all that I possess, all the love that is lavished on me by my husband, kids and friends, the little girl in me sometimes can't see the forest for the trees. That's when I close my email and switch to ebay, and do a search for "kitten heels 6.5." The screen flashes and pictures start to appear and I keep busy until I find myself again. And if I'm really lucky, my husband walks through the door, or one of the little ovaries calls for mommy, and the horizon suddenly evens out and I can finally see land again.
comments (3)
1. catty left...
Friday, 16 May 2008 12:58 am :: http://savetheamericanfamily.blog-city.c
Hurdles. Self preservation made me walk away from so many people. I used
to "what if" every aspect of every failed relationship. Maybe it's the 8
years of anti-depressants or a realization that some things aren't going to
work so I should stop working on them but I tend to just wave my hands in a
dismissive gesture now and not give it too much thought. That kind of
thought requires effort and I don't have it in me anymore. I call it the
F**k it approach. At 47 I have precious little time left, do I really want
to spend it worrying about . . . .
2. madam ovary left...
Friday, 16 May 2008 12:26 pm
As usual, you hit the nail on the head. I like that idea - having so
little time left, so little time to waste! That's how I've got to think
about it...because realistically, my life is half over! I'm late, I'm
late, for a very important date: the next 40 years!!! Thank you, wise
Catty.
3. catty left...
Friday, 16 May 2008 12:37 pm :: http://savetheamericanfamily.blog-city.c
Ahh, grasshopper, there was that woman in France who died at the age of 120
thereby making 60 the new middle age. I think the voices in my head choked
and died on the years of drugs. Even when I stopped taking the drugs the
voices never came back. Good riddance.