I was recently called out for having a bad attitude. Now, before I begin the winding journey that I think this post might take, I’d like to put out there that I know I have this problem. I know that when I get frustrated, or hungry (particularly hungry), embarrassed, or angry, like any other human-I get an attitude. My attitude is less stomping around and eye rolling and more pure silence that seems to radiate into a room and deafen a crowd. I can’t always feel the silence the way that others around me can because it is my own, I live in that silence. To me, the silence is me looking out over a lake in my head, quietly contemplating life’s biggest questions like why light refracts so beautifully, will all the conspiracy theories of life be made clear in those final moments before death, how exactly does one “crinkle cut” a fry and why the HELL did I wait so long to eat this morning… you know… important stuff. This silence is where I live most of my life unperturbed by anyone, I lived there as a child setting up a cozy residence by talking to myself and my imaginary and loyal dog, Bingo. This silence is where I’ve spent many years overcoming anger, bitterness, and bravely fought off loneliness. This silence is comforting to me. After years of being told of my perpetual RBF (Resting Bitch Face) I learned how to come out of my own head and into the world to participate, I’ve learned when to and not to take long walks in my own head muttering and humming to myself. BUT remember when I mentioned how fatally human I am? When my all-too-human emotions rear their ugly head, I deal with them by taking a deep dive into the lake that is dark and quiet and I can live my life as an amoeba undisturbed. Now, as I am floating in a pool of ignored big emotions swimming happily in my head, my face tells a different story and the “vibes” radiating off me are apparently not only less than friendly, but downright hostile. This is usually met with that age old question that doesn’t help any situation when things are decidedly not: “are you ok?”. This question, OH, this question is my enemy. I hate this question. Are you ok? Yes, up until this point I was happily misremembering lyrics to Panic! At the Disco. Up until those three words I was trying to decide is Zumba was as dumb as it seems or if I am just really that uncoordinated. Are you ok… Are you ok… ARE YOU OK?! Am I? Yes. But how do you communicate that without snapping, how do you tell someone that they don’t need to worry about your furrowed brow you’re just thinking about the potatoes you’re about to eat at breakfast? Short answer: I still don’t know. This question when I’m in *a mood* sends me straight into a spiral of A. guilt for making someone feel badly, B. anger at myself for being human and not being the happy-go-lucky person all the time, C. annoyance at the person for making me get angry at myself when I am allowed emotions, D. frustration at myself for being annoyed at that person who was trying to be nice and I projected emotions on to them. This shame spirals out of control until my day is all but ruined and my attitude is far from fixed. But guess what? That is ok. It is my life and my attitude and mine to deal with. Do I think it sucks that other people are affected by me? Yes. Do I feel guilty for that? No longer. I’ve learned in my 31 short years on this planet that try try as I might, I can’t control everything or anyone. I can only control myself and my reactions. My reaction to events is my own, my emotions to everything is my own. I am in charge of no one else. Even if I make you a cake with my own literal tears, I cannot be angry with you if you don’t kiss my feet in gratitude. You’re in your own lane and I’m in mine. These are hard won lessons, and ones I’m still learning.

Now as I mentioned, I was called out recently for my shitty attitude. I think that this is ok. I don’t mind at all being held accountable for my actions, I encourage people to tell me when I’ve done something to hurt or upset them. I like (obviously don’t revel in it, but can appreciate) being told that I was wrong. I think it is healthy to call out the people you love and tell them how their actions affect you. Here is the kicker though: you don’t get to control the reaction. All someone can do is tell someone and hope for better… better communication, better action in the future, better effort. You cannot DEMAND something from anyone.

Recently I read “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle (highly recommend) and got perspective on what she calls Big Emotions. These big emotions that feel overwhelming are your brain telling you something that you might not understand, and the best course of action is to sit with them and think for a good long while. I’ve been doing this, with semi success. I sit with my anger and ask it where it stems from. I find myself thinking a negative or harsh thought and try to smooth over how I feel. I get defensive at work for not being perfect and take some deep breaths about it and remind myself that this emotion isn’t me, but a part of me trying to tell me something. In the afore mentioned calling out I was told that I write people off. I won’t go into the specifics because they aren’t important and, in all honesty, didn’t seem fair to me; they had nothing to do with the price of rice in china and have even less to do with my point here-except they gave me some big emotions. The emotions were hurt and anger. I sat with those two unpleasant guests in the silence in my head and we stared at each other. I asked my anger why it welcomed itself into my heart and my anger smiled at me “can’t get rid of me so easily, can you?” it seemed to say. And it was right, Alanis Morrissette and I have that in common: we will always be known as the angry girl. I think that is why I allowed hurt into the party. I’ve spent years trying to be someone different; someone patient and understanding, good at listening and kind; someone fun and fun to be around and yet here I am, in my head with anger and hurt and we aren’t creating anything productive, we are sitting glowering at one another. I sat with those big feelings and slowly, slowly I was winning the staring contest. I realized that I had anger and hurt by the convoluted metaphorical balls and wasn’t letting go. I was holding on to them hypocritically because I felt as if someone misunderstood me, I projected the very feelings I’ve been learning to avoid projecting onto a new situation and called myself superior because at least I didn’t blame anyone but myself this time- only, that isn’t quite accurate. I did blame this friend; for telling me about things that weren’t their business but their perception of my shitty behavior, for snapping at me for the negative emotions I’d caused them, and I sat back smugly thinking “nanny-nanny-boo-boo I know better than to expect anyone to be in charge of my emotions… you’ve got a lot of growing up to do”, for having the audacity to condescend to me. I sat with my anger and hurt and realized I was doing the same thing, just sneakier. My hypocrisy walked over, gently touched my wrist and asked me to let go of anger and hurt’s balls. My hypocrisy patted my head and together we decided to write a blog post.

As for the writing people off… I don’t agree with this. I consider it healthy boundaries put in place that people choose not to adhere to and so we walk away from one another. This is ok to me. This is healthy. I learned very recently and at great cost to my mental health that you cannot be everything to everyone. You cannot be something to everyone. You can’t even be something to most people. But you can be everything to yourself; you can love yourself, let yourself grow and make mistakes, you can put yourself first and it’s not even selfish! Creating healthy boundaries is what making and retaining relationships is all about. People can meet you at your boundary line with their own, or they can say no thank you and walk away. Obviously, I’m not saying it isn’t sad or painful, but it is less hurtful in the long run. My sister, the saint she is, let me rant to her about this situation and she gave me the best advice I’ve ever gotten “Spoon,” she said “You’re not writing people off… they have a messy note. You don’t have room in your caboodle for messy notes, you know?” (Now, I’m assuming she was referring to the middle school habit of tucking notes written back and forth between friends into a makeup caboodle… But as far as sisterly advice, it was solid to me!) That is the truth of it. I don’t have room in my life for messy notes. If you want to bring me a note that you want me to read, that is great! Please have it be neat and allow me to give it back to you after. I do not need to be in charge of other people’s notes (burdens, emotions), they do not get to shove them into my caboodle.

Now, all this existential dread…wouldn’t you believe that all this happened while waiting for my breakfast potatoes (have you gotten that I was hungry, yet?) listening to some dumb (not really.. but… hunger makes me moody if that wasn’t clear) smooth Jazz. But isn’t that just how life is? And isn’t that beautiful? Here I am at a table having an existential crisis, and across the table from me is someone doing the same, but we are separate entities in our own lanes… Our paths have crossed, their notes are lovely, but their anger note does not have a place in my caboodle; I will read it, commiserate over it, and learn how to communicate better with them from now on… But I refuse to allow it in; and that isn’t writing someone off, it is putting myself first.

I am human. I am flawed. I am not as smart as I fancy myself. I am learning. These are all things that I know to be true about myself, and all things that I take pride in-even if just for a few moments to write my guts out onto a page to seem braver than I am. That is what is in my caboodle.