When I mess something up, at least everyone escapes with all their limbs intact.

Friday, July 16, 2010

It's what's on the inside that counts...

I had a minor epiphany today. I had one yesterday, too, in fact, but we'll concentrate on the one I had about 20 minutes ago. I hate minor epiphanies, because a seemingly small grain of enlightenment clouds my thoughts for at least the rest of if not multiple days to follow. Growth usually comes of it, but it's a stressful,  humbling, and difficult process in the meanwhile.

I've always said, and will continue to say, that I don't give a rats ass what other people say about me. Period.

Comments like, "what will the neighbors say?" dumbfound me in a way that I can't quite explain...like, why should that even be a blip on your radar screen (unless your plans include bulldozing their house, which then YES, I WONDER WHAT THE NEIGHBORS WOULD SAY).

Yet I am incredibly self conscious.

Last night, my husband casually said he wanted to have a friend over after work.
I, uncasually,  flew into a panic.

Me: "The house is filthy! The carpets need to be washed and the sink is full of dishes and there are clothes all over the floor in the closet!"

Husband: "So? He doesn't care, he's not like that."

Me: "It doesn't matter.It's so gross."

Mind you, it's really not that bad. Yeah, I've got some dishes in the sink and yeah, someone in my family needs to learn to pick up the laundry off the floor (cause none of us do it, currently), and hells yeah, the carpet needs a washing...but really? My house is pretty damned clean.

I grew up in a dark, cluttered mess. We weren't really allowed to have people over because our home was shameful. People weren't supposed to see how we lived. It's taken a long time to work through this, because I always thought people didn't care. My friends didn't. But I was constantly told otherwise - "people care, just because they don't say it your face doesn't mean they don't care." I dismissed this...in part, at least. Apparently.

Fast forward to today, as I regailed the saga o'dirtiness to a friend. The more I explained how I felt, the more of a hypocrite I felt like. But why?? I don't really care what people say, they don't live my life. It's of no consequence to anyone else but me and my family. I stand by that. I don't care what people say.

But I do care about what they think.

You know. Not what they think in general, that's equal to what they say. It's the things people think but never say. I care about that. Because, among other things, I tend to be judgemental...silently. I am guilty of what I fear. I think that most of us are, when faced with things we either don't understand or don't have all the information about, or when faced with a success in light of our own failures.

So, now what do I do with this knowledge? I guess it's a slow process to changing ones thinking. But letting it out is a good step. I've found that the more tolerant I am of other people, the more tolerant I feel other people are with me. The "put it out there and receive it tenfold" kinda deal.

In that realm of thinking, I end this post by wishing you all happy windfalls of 10-20 thousand dollars a piece.