Over the time I haven’t written here I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve also been unconsciously wallowing in self-abasement, most notably since I started working at the naturopathic clinic (because I’ve been so preoccupied with it), regarding how much my life has slowed down since university, how my ambitions elude me, and how since then I’ve greatly struggled with the ugly faces of my idiosyncrasies, foibles, flaws, which I’ve always found myself unable to forgive, whether pointed out by others or recognized by me. That in itself, the inability to be forgiving of one’s own imperfections, is yet another flaw in my eyes.
However, one thing I’ve reminded myself of is that no one, as much as they may have even been the catalyst of the fears, insecurities, or neuroses, can actually make you have them or keep them. My interpretation or assumption of what people say or think is my choice alone. I can choose to let them judge, belittle, resent, abuse, accuse, or foster negative traits or I can choose to let the words, actions, and emotions be separate from me, and I can recognize what they truly mean, what they actually say about those people, and I can choose to let those negative things be actual favours to me: they can motivate me to be the opposite, to learn, to excel. That is, to keep excelling.
Part of the frustration is that very fact — that it is solely my choice how people’s words, actions, and emotions affect me — but part is also that I’ve conveniently lost sight of that fact many times and thus spent far too much time reinforcing what others have said or done.
Where what I’ve said above becomes relevant
Yesterday was my 35th birthday. One of my sisters called me before I left for work to wish me a good day and also to let me know that someone had written a very venomous note on my Facebook wall and I might want to delete it. A while ago I’d deactivated my Facebook account (I’m annoyed one cannot actually delete one’s account, it seems) to simplify my life, let go of the past, and because I was always irritated by how long the thing took to load. It also seemed a waste of time; there were many “friends” and relatives I never spoke to or even had never met, notifications and comments on my wall that irritated me, and I am frankly not interested in the fact that so and so just watched CSI or had scrambled eggs for breakfast. I wanted more meaningful interaction.
But on reflecting one night, I thought perhaps it had been rude of me to deactivate my account, rude or selfish or snobbish, to cut off people who may have wanted to keep up with me that way. So I started a new account not much more than a week ago. I was reminded yesterday why I had deactivated it. The message of which my sister had spoken was indeed horrid but most of all bewildering. In addition, the person left a very long message in my inbox.
I know that what I’m going to write about the messages and their author will sound immature of me. I know that a bigger woman perhaps wouldn’t include it, and that it’s defensive of me to have to prove to you that her messages were simultaneously horrible and strange and that the author is very likely mentally unstable. Yet I’m choosing to write it anyway, thinking that while I might be childish in doing it, my intention is not to make fun of her to make me look the better woman. It’s to bring me properly to my conclusion. (Plus, you’re dying to know what the messages said, aren’t you?)
As much as the words were ridiculously untrue — (among many other asinine accusations such as that I apparently fake illness to bully and manipulate people, I think too much of myself, and my marriage is a failure because my husband [whom she has never met] is “emotionally dead,” she wrote that I am jealous I didn’t have her partner’s children [!?] — I, one who has never wanted children [regardless of which boyfriends and husbands] and who feels utterly confounded that one can believe that simply getting knocked up and having a kid means you are more of a woman [also see my post here]!) — and as much as they constituted a transparently desperate attempt to belittle me to aggrandize herself, they did indeed get to me. They festered in me all day, making me poisonously angry and resentful and regretful, and especially utterly and immaturely desirous of the last word and revenge. I’ve been “a Christian woman” (quoting Auntie Em here) more than enough times in my life, not deigning to answer the rantings of others. Alas, after this woman commented on my wall and in my inbox, she conveniently deleted her Facebook account as well as that of her partner. Cowardice, I’d wager, but perhaps also infantile in making sure she got the last word. 
The comments that came in from friends and family who wondered about the message on my wall (one friend wrote, “What on earth is that horrid wall post all about?? It seems written by someone with a sketchy grasp of the language at best, not to mention someone who seems to lack those all-important qualities class and taste, integrity and self-possession…Good lord — she’s obviously not well”), and who would be ugly enough to write such things on my birthday, made me feel I was not alone in my impression of this person who confidently (and incredibly) professed that because she had a certain IQ she had me all figured out, although we’ve never met.
Her quite incoherent words, irritatingly written with an excessive use of capital letters, ellipses, and exclamation marks, misspelled words, and ludicrous statements, betrayed the person she truly is, an insecure and jealous woman who, in feeling the need to assert her dominance, actually stated her IQ (which as we all know is likely wholly inaccurate, as scientists readily admit IQ measurements are not reliable, nor do they really measure intelligence but rather more so logic), exclaim that she and her partner were going to be millionaires, and make a shopping list of my apparent shortcomings and wrongdoings, and jealousy of not having children, as well as continually contradict herself in significant ways, proved she was exactly the opposite of what she was attempting to suggest. An intelligent person does not go about stating how intelligent they are. A classy, educated, and truly confident woman does not call another woman “a silly arsehole of a broad,” or insist on her confidence and high quality, and nor does she have the gall to reference one of Eckhart Tolle’s books while utterly having missed the point of it. My first thought was actually that she was mentally unstable, and my second was that Buddha would not have been proud of her (she and her partner are supposedly Buddhists. Again, they’ve apparently missed the teachings there).
Wherein I get to the point
I fully realize how emotionally charged I sound above. And yes, since I couldn’t respond to her messages obviously meant to hurt me, I am venting a little here. But she ultimately made me frown while thinking of the many truths about me, let alone her, in juxtaposition to what she was saying.
And this is a good thing. She’s done me a favour, I realize. She’s pulled me out of my lamentations that I’ve done nothing with my life and am no good, uneducated, and have too many flaws, and ignited my defensive anger. It’s excellent, in this case, this defensiveness. Suddenly, I look back on my previous year, on my life in general, on my successes and my internal achievements (which I strangely don’t feel the need to list and lionize here ), on the definite truths about me that contradict her confounding accusations, but I am most of all glad to have never stooped as low as this woman has. Pharisee-ish of me, perhaps. But there it is, nevertheless. At least I recognize it. I never said I was perfect.
This morning I awoke remembering my last thoughts: that I’ve not at all done badly for myself, that I have made good decisions, that things have worked out for me, and that, ultimately — with my health and easy access to healing people and practices, with my excellent education and my ability and intelligence to think for myself and to write and read well — together with my husband to whom I must state I am indeed happily married, as I think you already know from previous posts, I am truly living well.
A good friend is visiting this weekend from Ottawa and after dropping my husband off in Trenton for his father’s birthday, while driving down the 401, squinting in the sun (sunglasses aren’t ready yet) and smiling at the person I’ve become from the woman who was scared to drive (let alone on the highway), I passed a car whose bumper sticker read, “Living well is the best revenge.” Ah. I grinned. Some reinforcement from the universe. And then some more when I got home and turned on Classical 96.3 and the presenter reported her Living Well segment.
As I sit here at our kitchen table beside vases of vibrant birthday flowers, in our warm and bright, sunny house we own (well, in a manner of speaking!), I smile again. Thinking on everything I’ve realized by looking at myself in a different light, I can truly let go of yesterday’s messages and rise above them with a newfound confidence in myself.
And that, I gather, is surely part of what living well really means.
Replying to this is going to be rather difficult as I’m precariously leaning over a table full of oil, resin and paint and mess. Anyway, however shocked and appalled I am, and sorry, what you’ve just written, I think, is a really really powerful and beautiful and articulate thing. And you should write more.
You mean write more in general?
Oh, you would not even BELIEVE the messages, esp. the one in my inbox. I could send it but I’m telling you, it really is so poisonous it might leech into you and make you feel shitty too. So forget it. Even though that makes it sound more tempting to read, doesn’t it. Trust me, uh uh.
PS. YAY to oil, resin, paint, and mess! What are you working on? Can I see?? Is it a painting for my birthday?
The social networking and blog sites are cool, but as you well know, they can leave you vulnerable to any dumbass that wants attention. Sorry you had to deal with that.
Happy birthday sweets. I’m glad to sorta konw you. Heh. Cheers!!
BrettHead: LOL! Thanks. Glad to sorta know you, too.
As tempting as it would be to call on my Viking Horde and send them to throw banana creme pies at the folks who did that to you…
You are right. Forget about them. You’re better than that, and you’ve got so much more to do with your life that when it’s all said and done, you will shine.
Oh, and Happy Birthday to you
Thanks, Brett. I appreciate what you said. (But banana cream pies are simply not harsh enough, trust me on this one.)
Just remember, “banana cream pie” might just be a code word for “battle axe”…
Ah, well in that case…!
Well, I’m a little confused, maybe ignorant. I thought on facebook you *friended* someone, not *enemyied* them. How in the world did this viper get on your friends list?
I am glad she had the kindness to delete herself as that was the least she could do since self detonate isn’t a current option.
Stace,
One thing I am sure of in life,
The farther we come, the more we will envoke the wrath of those who never will understand that they themselves have to turn their own wheels. And they will unleash their fury because..well..because they just don’t get it.
Shrug it off..
They are sad and pathetic.
Say a prayer for them, its the best you can do with your good Christian self. Oh and go enjoy your wonderful birthday!
Well, I’m a little confused, maybe ignorant. I thought on facebook you *friended* someone, not *enemyied* them. How in the world did this viper get on your friends list?
I am glad she had the kindness to delete herself as that was the least she could do since self detonate isn’t a current option.
Stace,
One thing I am sure of in life,
The farther we come, the more we will envoke the wrath of those who never will understand that they themselves have to turn their own wheels. And they will unleash their fury because..well..because they just don’t get it.
Shrug it off..
They are sad and pathetic.
Say a prayer for them, its the best you can do with your good Christian self. Oh and go enjoy your wonderful birthday!
Wendi: Thanks.
She wasn’t on my friend’s list, of course, but you can still send a person a message. And for the note on my wall, she used someone else’s account.
Anyway, I love what you said about the further we come the more we piss people off. It’s so true. I mentioned that in the fantasy fiction ebook, actually! Thanks for reminding me.
It would be hard for most of us not to be initially taken aback by nasty comments like that, and I’m so sorry you had to experience such nastiness.
I do have to say, there are many reasons for people to be jealous of you — you’re wonderful, you’re loving and introspective and smart, you’re a gifted writer, plain and simple, not to mention your big, open heart and willingness to know yourself no matter what that means. All those traits plus many more (I’m sure) make up the wonderful person you are.
I’m glad to see you separate yourself from this person’s “stuff”.
In my not so humble opinion, whoever in the world wants to be “fabulous” like you must not only do the life work, but know themselves. The person you write about in this post, obviously does not.
So, blessings to them. It’s hard to live from that dark, black place.
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{ Steph }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
Em
Em: Your message is so kind. Thank you, thank you so much. I honestly don’t know what else to say! When I wrote that she seemed jealous, I’d been thinking of threatened, rather, by my (long-)past relationship with her partner, not my good qualities. But thank you very much for pointing them out. The reinforcement from you and others here is honestly making a difference.
testing…testing
I already left a congrats on the other one..but hopefully this works now, this looks really great! How exciting!!!
Totally understand you on the Facebook / social networking crappola out there. I, myself had a MySpace account (eh…) and deleted it not long ago due to the complete pointlessness of it.
I do have a Facebook acount at the (mostly) behest of a few friends and my wife, and I guess it does help me keep in contact with those I left behind in England – I say left behind, but really… well, no, I’ll stick to left behind.
A couple of comments here have indeed raised the good point as any arsehole writing on your wall, but the same can be said for them just writing it on a site – the internet is an open garden; anyone can wander in and take a crap on the lawn.
At least with it happening in your lawn, you can see it straight away and clean it up – or even better, set the dog on them… I think I got a little heavy on the metaphors, but ne’er mind.
Nice blog you have here, I came via Nick on 5 Rings, whom I have read daily for quite some time now – send him a cookie or something.
@ Wendi: Tada! It works!
@ RG: Welcome! You’re totally right; the Internet is an open market. I mean, I suppose you can set some sort of privacy rules on stuff, but the point of both Facebook and a blog is to leave it open so people can find you and readily comment. I guess, then, you have to be prepared with the poop bag (you know, going with your metaphor!)
Cookie for Nick is on its way…
comments are working for me, yay!
*jumps up and eats cookie*
Like I said on the other in other words blog, love it!
As far as the situation goes, that’s a tough one.
I’m glad you’re at peace with it now, but I deal with it in a weird way …
Like if somebody wants to be rotten to me, yeah, it hurts. But I try to do the exact opposite of what they’d expect (brilliantly evil in its simplicity, no?). Like in this case I’d keep the account open and not delete the post, AND not reply to them in any way. Because even a friendly reply tells them that they successfully got under your skin, and that they won.
Nothing gets them madder than going on with business as usual with your other friends while completely ignoring their little tantrum, hehehe.
Anyway, grats on the new site
Nick: I was very tempted to do the same thing: keep the message on there. It doesn’t make me look bad, after all. But it was just so ugly and it did make me feel bad every time I saw it. Plus it invited a lot of emails. So I deleted it. It seemed to spread its poison to everyone and even though they were horrified and on my side, it still made them feel bad too.
So I did keep the account and I never wrote anything back. I feel that sometimes, if one is astute enough, they hear how they sound when they’re the last one to speak.
I kept my own comments and status light, and went on with the day, pretending she’d never been on my wall. So I think we’re on the same page, pretty much!
Glad you like the new site!
I read this post a couple of days ago, intended to comment and then somehow didn’t. But then a thing happened today that made me revisit my intention.
I got home from picking the bairns up from school to find a highway maintenance lorry completely blocking our drive. I pulled the car over and asked the workman lifting a sewer hatch how long he thought they might be. I expected a civil response – maybe “yeah, sorry, we’re just checking this, we’ll move the lorry in a few minutes.”
Instead, what I got was aggression and abuse. “Are you a copper? You don’t own the road, don’t give me attitude, blah blah.” Apparently I don’t have the right to free access to my own drive, and neither do I have the right to question this, or to complain to this guy’s managers (he refused to give me his name, although I did get the numberplate of the lorry).
I was shaking with fury by the time I eventually got home, having left the car down the road and walked past the workmen again as I went down the drive – with my children, but this didn’t stop the tirade. I was honestly quite scared.
I immediately sent a complaint to the company I think he works for (altho the lorry was unmarked) and felt better, but I’ve kept on returning to it all evening. I feel uncomfortable, frustrated, upset and angry, and resentful that this guy thinks that’s an acceptable way to behave towards a woman on her own property with two children in tow.
All of which reminded me of your post. You’re completely right – living well is the best revenge, but that’s sometimes a bit difficult to achieve when you’re still wondering at the unbelievable rudeness of strangers.
Steph – Happy belated birthday!! I’m so sorry I missed it. But I’m more sorry that that terrible person put such a damper on your day.
I’m very happy to read that you’ve let it go, and I agree: Living well is the best revenge. And, girl, you are living it up!
And by the way – I’m sorry I missed your birthday, too. I hope this year brings you all you’d wish for yourself.
Hx
Sorry for the late comment, I hope you get notified about new comments.
RE:facebook. Its a tool nothing more.
About your post. I had a similar experience to you but I learnt long ago that I apologize for nothing. I like who I am, I have a great family and great friends (Brett) I don’t need anything more and I’m not looking for anything more…. and this pisses people off. Don’t know why.
Anyway I was at a party, being myself, not apolgizing and I was having a great time as were most of the people around me (I can be quite entertaining if you let me)
Anyway one girl (not lady) was leaving she made a point to come up to me and call me an asshole. OK, I said, it was nice meeting you. So she reitertated in strong words that I really was an asshole. I said, I know I am, don’t worry about it, it just means you don’t know me very well. Have a nice night.
Well she went ballistic and was dragged from the house by her boyfriend. I guess I have that affect on people. But I am not going to change and neither should you. Its how these people react that is the problem and we have ABSOLUTELY NO CONTROL over that. Read that again. We cannot make these people like us nor should we try.
I think you are great, you are a great writer. Put this experience in the past and move on, there are better things up ahead. You have great friends (look at the comments here)a great family and you are an excellent writer.
Happy belated birthday!
Eyeteaguy