(a long ramble during unexpected moments of process & personal lucidity.)
Misunderstood.
I
Just
Hate
The feeling
Of being
Misunderstood.
I’m 30 and 2 years of age.
I have been the “strict” teacher
And found the courage to
Speak hard truths.
I started a business for the first time,
Something I never thought I could
(or wanted)
To do.
I’ve admitted I’m wrong
To my spouse, daughter, friends, family (although probably not often enough).
Years ago someone said to me, about a relationship that needed to be released:
“Your compromise in this situation might be that
you’ll need to be okay with being misunderstood.”
Okay, sure.
But you know, it actually sucks.
I’ve let it go when students have
Flown off the handle for grades they didn’t
Think they deserved.
I’ve almost genuinely not taken it
Personally when students (or their parents)
Have said hateful things to my face (or in emails).
I’ve lived through the pit-in-the-bottom-of-the-stomach
Feeling—
The times when you hear or see or experience something
That you can’t believe is happening,
But realize it is,
(Or maybe realize that you were wrong and sigh a deep, deep, deep gut-based-sigh-of-relief.)
I started seeing a therapist a few months ago.
It wasn’t intentional until it was.
I still don’t know exactly what I am expecting to get out of it,
But I know I want to be the best version of myself—not just for myself and God,
But for my Boo and for the little girl we are raising—
I deeply long for our baby girl to grow up internalizing courage, bravery, strength, confidence,
Soul-fire, authenticity, genuiness, kindness, sweetness, humility, love, and hope and faith!
And I want these for me, too—I want to fight to embody them each and every
Moment,
Because,
Well, it’s not just about you and it’s not just about me,
It’s about all of the lovely people breathing, sighing, crying, cringing,
Remembering, forgetting, regretting, and somehow finding the will
To live another day.
Sometimes, lately, I take things personally when I shouldn’t,
Or I find myself feeling easily offended.
It makes me think twice (although not as often as I probably should)
About the times my tone or word or reaction
Might be leading someone else down a path they want to
Not go down.
And so, in all that I am, in all that I say
And do,
And think,
And hope for,
I want to BE authentic.
I don’t want to be a shadow,
Or a shadow of a shadow,
Or a slice of something nice,
But that’s not quite me.
By now, my rant is rambling rapidly through the
Keys I’m pressing, and these words are coming forth.
A dear friend and sister recently reminded me
(when we spoke of loss),
To just give myself space to think.
To think and process.
Not to let the busyness crowd out grief.
Because then we really can’t embrace it,
Ebb and flow with it,
And walk through it.
And I’m busy.
I’ve crowded out some things
And now here come some of inward workings.
Back to why I started rant-writing tonight…
I received feedback on an assignment
And it ruffled my feathers:
I felt misunderstood.
I also felt like I don’t have the right to
Feel this way, probably,
But I just did feel it.
I felt like the interpretation my professor had of the assignment I turned in,
Was so far from my own personal and professional moral and ethical code,
That I was embarrassed for myself,
To be perceived in such a light!
I emailed her,
She responded,
And it was quite redemptive.
So, the diffusion happened even in the span of these
Passing moments.
How quickly I can be to get on edge,
To react
Rather than wait,
Think,
And I’m not talking about over thinking,
But just to sit on something.
Sometimes I feel rebellion rise up
When something appears clean on the outside,
Because all I can think of are white-washed tombs,
Of hypocritical spiritual leaders,
And I have a desire to spew forth
Messiness, for the sake of sharing something
REAL.
Sometimes I have the urge to say something about myself,
That probably won’t look too great, simply
Because I know it will be true, with no sugar
Or spice or anything nice.
And I want that to be a connecting point between
Us.
Because if I am not sharing something that is real,
Then what is the point?
What is the point of being in the presence
Of other human beings
If we cannot truly open parts of who
We are—to dine together,
Cry together,
Share together,
Laugh together,
Remember together,
Grieve together,
Fight together,
Be together?
I feel full of hopes and dreams—
Full to the point of almost bursting.
There are so many things I want to
See, hear, know, experience, learn.
Do you ever feel that, too?
I have so much to learn.
Do you ever feel that way?
About life?
Love?
Faith and religion?
Friendship?
Significant-othership?
Parenthood?
Career-wise?
And just, well, as a human being?
Tell me.
