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A Long Brutal Honesty
Apr. 8th, 2011 05:16 pmFrom The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have.
I still struggle not to be shaped by what others think.
This above all things I think is my biggest fault, if it can be called such. I worry so much about what others think that I get myself worked up into a lather about... well, just about everything actually.
As a girl in school I was the nerd. I knew where I stood, that was what people thought of me. It hurt that no one really liked me, and people only wanted me when they needed my help, couldn't understand something or whatever, but I knew that. It was familiar and uncomfortable, but at least it was what I was used to.
When I reached that dreaded 16-18 period in time, I grew a rebellious streak - but not really I guess you could say. See, I'd always known that when I grew up I was going to go to medical school and be a doctor. Right? But hang on... that really wasn't what I wanted to do. Sure I was clever (though I don't think clever enough), so it's natural for Mum and Dad to have encouraged that and I don't at all blame them for it, but... my rebelling occurred at the beginning of my sixth form year when I went to my tutor and cheerfully told him I wanted to change my options. I had been going to take A-Level exams in Chemistry, Physics and Mathematics, all to enable me to apply for Med School. I changed my options to English, French and Theatre Studies... I wanted the 'arts' not the 'sciences.'
To be fair, my parents were very supportive - and Mum always kept telling me that if I didn't make it in theatre (where my interest was at the time) I could always teach. Hmmm... not going there, right. Still, my 6th Form years went as any others. I was a nerd - no friends unless people wanted something... yeah - that's right, déjà vu all over again. I tried to fit in with the in crowd - always worrying about what people thought... and this led to the following ridiculous story of the one time I wagged school... nearly.
See, they were all going to skive off a lesson, head to the house of someone that lived nearby - and wanting to fit in, I decided that I'd do the same... go with them, right? I wanted them to think that I was as 'cool' as they were. Only problem was my overdeveloped sense of feeling guilty. I got half way down the street and felt so sick to my stomach about not doing what i was supposed to be doing and being in class, that I turned around and went straight back to school. Thoroughly miserable afterwards because of the fun that got poked at me for doing that; for going against what everyone was doing; for not allowing myself to be shaped by them.
There are a couple of other notable, (perhaps more notable than this even), moments in my life. They'll make you cringe, but one of them was /not/ calling off my wedding to Colin even though I had great big doubts because I couldn't bear the thought of what 'everyone would say.' Even when Mum said to me, maybe picking up on my doubts, that if I wasn't sure about it we didn't have to go through with it, I didn't put a stop to is as I should have done.
The other, keeping quiet about what I really thought of a woman that did just about everything she could to blacken my name, destroy my character and my career with her lies, and her bitterness - her inability or unwillingness to actually see the truth for what it really was. Child custody issues can get terribly, badly acrimonious. Yes, during that whole, sorry mess I received a public commendation for my conduct throughout, but let me tell you, sometimes - emotionally and spiritually - rising above a situation hurts too damn much, and is too costly. Things were never the same for me after that... and no one thought the better of me for it. Not that that should matter.
But it does matter to me what people think of me, rightly or wrongly, and I find myself in another situation of that kind of challenge for me right now. I'm feeling crushed by it, as a matter of fact, and that's not a criticism of any of the people around me, because I recognise that this is all self inflicted - completely and totally all down to me.
Events have come together that means that I am due to fly to the States this coming Thursday, and my Grandfather's funeral is on the following Monday. When Mum and Dad first got back from starting to sort back arrangements, and hadn't been able to get things together to sort out a date for the funeral, I said to Mum that my flight was on the 14th and that I might not be able to change that (it depends on the class of ticket as to whether they will let you change arrangements). She said that I'd have to tell Dad that, because she wasn't. Well she did actually, and Dad's reaction was that he said, "If she's not there, she's not there." I know that sounds like he doesn't mind, but actually all it does is makes me feel guilty and all the more obligated to actually be there. What are people going to think if... How is it going to look/seem... yada yada yada... Never mind what I actually want and don't want - because that makes it seem all the more selfish and everything.
And now that it's looking increasing like I can't change things, even if I wanted to (which actually I don't - and if that shocks you then so be it) I've ended up getting myself into quite the state over it all - unnecessarily, as it turns out, because Dad and Mum really are fine with it, understanding at least.
When we heard my grandfather was ill and likely to pass, not that I was ever offered the chance to go with him to see Granddad, Dad went over to see him. I could have spoken up and said "I'll come too" but I didn't, because I have memories of Granddad that I want to preserve, and seeing him in a sickly state, I didn't think I could cope. I loved my grandfather very much, but really and truly started mourning him a long while before all of this happened, and while attending his funeral might be a closure of sorts, there are other ways to achieve that closure. So, if I'm brutally honest with myself, I don't really feel the need, in and for myself, to be there. Does it mean I love him or honour him any the less - no, and I'm certain that if Granddad were still alive, he'd be very cross with me for giving up things just to satisfy the sake of appearances, and that's what all this is about - appearances, because while I don't really want to... I feel pressure that I should for the sake of appearances, when my love and respect of Granddad would far better be demonstrated by, perhaps, the reading of a eulogy that I could write for him, then by me standing there wishing I was really somewhere else... which is what I would be doing.
I'm a grown up, damn it - why is it I let other people and the way I fear they're going to think of me make me feel like a child; every. Single. Time?
The whole world could praise Sung Jung-Tzu and it wouldn't make him exert himself.
The whole world could condemn him
and it wouldn't make him mope.
He drew a clear line between the internal and the external.
-Chuang Tzu
I still struggle not to be shaped by what others think.
This above all things I think is my biggest fault, if it can be called such. I worry so much about what others think that I get myself worked up into a lather about... well, just about everything actually.
As a girl in school I was the nerd. I knew where I stood, that was what people thought of me. It hurt that no one really liked me, and people only wanted me when they needed my help, couldn't understand something or whatever, but I knew that. It was familiar and uncomfortable, but at least it was what I was used to.
When I reached that dreaded 16-18 period in time, I grew a rebellious streak - but not really I guess you could say. See, I'd always known that when I grew up I was going to go to medical school and be a doctor. Right? But hang on... that really wasn't what I wanted to do. Sure I was clever (though I don't think clever enough), so it's natural for Mum and Dad to have encouraged that and I don't at all blame them for it, but... my rebelling occurred at the beginning of my sixth form year when I went to my tutor and cheerfully told him I wanted to change my options. I had been going to take A-Level exams in Chemistry, Physics and Mathematics, all to enable me to apply for Med School. I changed my options to English, French and Theatre Studies... I wanted the 'arts' not the 'sciences.'
To be fair, my parents were very supportive - and Mum always kept telling me that if I didn't make it in theatre (where my interest was at the time) I could always teach. Hmmm... not going there, right. Still, my 6th Form years went as any others. I was a nerd - no friends unless people wanted something... yeah - that's right, déjà vu all over again. I tried to fit in with the in crowd - always worrying about what people thought... and this led to the following ridiculous story of the one time I wagged school... nearly.
See, they were all going to skive off a lesson, head to the house of someone that lived nearby - and wanting to fit in, I decided that I'd do the same... go with them, right? I wanted them to think that I was as 'cool' as they were. Only problem was my overdeveloped sense of feeling guilty. I got half way down the street and felt so sick to my stomach about not doing what i was supposed to be doing and being in class, that I turned around and went straight back to school. Thoroughly miserable afterwards because of the fun that got poked at me for doing that; for going against what everyone was doing; for not allowing myself to be shaped by them.
There are a couple of other notable, (perhaps more notable than this even), moments in my life. They'll make you cringe, but one of them was /not/ calling off my wedding to Colin even though I had great big doubts because I couldn't bear the thought of what 'everyone would say.' Even when Mum said to me, maybe picking up on my doubts, that if I wasn't sure about it we didn't have to go through with it, I didn't put a stop to is as I should have done.
The other, keeping quiet about what I really thought of a woman that did just about everything she could to blacken my name, destroy my character and my career with her lies, and her bitterness - her inability or unwillingness to actually see the truth for what it really was. Child custody issues can get terribly, badly acrimonious. Yes, during that whole, sorry mess I received a public commendation for my conduct throughout, but let me tell you, sometimes - emotionally and spiritually - rising above a situation hurts too damn much, and is too costly. Things were never the same for me after that... and no one thought the better of me for it. Not that that should matter.
But it does matter to me what people think of me, rightly or wrongly, and I find myself in another situation of that kind of challenge for me right now. I'm feeling crushed by it, as a matter of fact, and that's not a criticism of any of the people around me, because I recognise that this is all self inflicted - completely and totally all down to me.
Events have come together that means that I am due to fly to the States this coming Thursday, and my Grandfather's funeral is on the following Monday. When Mum and Dad first got back from starting to sort back arrangements, and hadn't been able to get things together to sort out a date for the funeral, I said to Mum that my flight was on the 14th and that I might not be able to change that (it depends on the class of ticket as to whether they will let you change arrangements). She said that I'd have to tell Dad that, because she wasn't. Well she did actually, and Dad's reaction was that he said, "If she's not there, she's not there." I know that sounds like he doesn't mind, but actually all it does is makes me feel guilty and all the more obligated to actually be there. What are people going to think if... How is it going to look/seem... yada yada yada... Never mind what I actually want and don't want - because that makes it seem all the more selfish and everything.
And now that it's looking increasing like I can't change things, even if I wanted to (which actually I don't - and if that shocks you then so be it) I've ended up getting myself into quite the state over it all - unnecessarily, as it turns out, because Dad and Mum really are fine with it, understanding at least.
When we heard my grandfather was ill and likely to pass, not that I was ever offered the chance to go with him to see Granddad, Dad went over to see him. I could have spoken up and said "I'll come too" but I didn't, because I have memories of Granddad that I want to preserve, and seeing him in a sickly state, I didn't think I could cope. I loved my grandfather very much, but really and truly started mourning him a long while before all of this happened, and while attending his funeral might be a closure of sorts, there are other ways to achieve that closure. So, if I'm brutally honest with myself, I don't really feel the need, in and for myself, to be there. Does it mean I love him or honour him any the less - no, and I'm certain that if Granddad were still alive, he'd be very cross with me for giving up things just to satisfy the sake of appearances, and that's what all this is about - appearances, because while I don't really want to... I feel pressure that I should for the sake of appearances, when my love and respect of Granddad would far better be demonstrated by, perhaps, the reading of a eulogy that I could write for him, then by me standing there wishing I was really somewhere else... which is what I would be doing.
I'm a grown up, damn it - why is it I let other people and the way I fear they're going to think of me make me feel like a child; every. Single. Time?
