Tolerance

A not-so-kindly sailor answered my ad for a sailing instructor. His second email was patronizing and disrespectful (if that’s not redundant), which shocked me.

I’m always shocked by contempt. It takes awhile to believe it, and then to remember that their behavior has nothing to do with me. It is learned.

My mother’s brother once threatened to bury me in the desert with rats. He was incensed and out of control after my grandmother died. “Go back to California where you belong!” he said, repeatedly shoving my teenage body down onto a bed.

Contempt scathes and flays generation after generation. My grandmother was known to have a temper, as were other grandparents, great and otherwise. Disrespect ripples down the centuries. What to do? I’ve tried calmly responding, but many times it only escalates their strange communication style. I’ve tried ignoring it, but then it feels like I’m not protecting myself. I’ve tried matching their tone, and boy, through the roof! Plus I don’t want to be like them. Dilemma.

When I tolerate abuse, it displaces Happiness. It takes up the space where Joy lives, and life is a misery. No more tolerance.