Flight/Fight

Beware the miserable: they will try to cut you down. It ain’t personal, but it can be painful.

Jealousy has been a problem most of my life, both ways. Fortunately, I’m still standing, so I can still learn. Why is that relative hating on me? Oh yeah: envy. Why is that boatyard bozo targeting me? Oh yeah: misery.

Sometimes it takes awhile for me to catch on. Beats the past, when I’d beat on me, believing I deserved their hate.

I don’t.

No one does.

Dumping and spewing and ranting and otherwise abusing me is no longer acceptable. I will use calm words first, aiming for nonviolent communication, but if you aren’t interested in dialogue, the hell with it. I will block you.

Truth: I don’t want to fight; however, I am prepared to fight. The young woman (me) who took self-defense classes, even bringing workshops to her college campus, is pleased. Yeah, I can kick your ass. I don’t want to, but I will if I have to. In the meantime, I am reading Good Arguments by Bo Seo, a champion debater.

Arguing was dangerous in my family of origin. I rarely stood up for myself; confrontation made me shake all over, so I chose flight over fight. But when cornered, I learned to dump and spew and rant and abuse. Exactly like them.

This has not served me.

Before I approached the men who terrified me, I wrote scripts and memorized them, reciting to the ocean many times. I practiced.

Part of me is embarrassed about this. Aren’t I a big strong capitana-surfer-swimmer? In my sixth decade on the planet?

I remind Embarrassment how girls were socialized in the 20th century, the culture of sexism. It can take a long time to sluff that off, particularly with no support or encouragement at home. Pride reminds me how far I’ve come.

Flight is still more comfortable than Fight, at least at first. But Anger always shows up. And now I know to listen to her. You are here, she says. You belong. Do not flee or make yourself small. You can disagree, safely.

So I do. I rebut the complainer, the belittler, the demeaner. I persevere with folks who try to tell me that hot is cold (landlords, when the AC broke), or loathing is love (relatives, partners).

“We’re all sensitive people,” sang Marvin Gaye, “with so much to give… since we got to be here, let’s live.”

Yeah.

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Bookshelf:
Romy & Julio
Diary of a Reluctant Traveler: 15 months on the road from coast to coast to coast
Sea Change: stories & splashes
Shoulds are for Saints: the true life adventures of Suzy Le Speed
Dance First …ask questions later: poems & paintings