give a damn

"Nothing has transformed my life more than realizing that it's a waste of time to evaluate my worthiness by weighing the reaction of the people in the stands." - Brene Brown

A few weeks ago I blocked a phone number.  Thanks to the nice new iOS, a contact in your iPhone can be blocked without going through your service provider.  Finally.  Since we are impulsive, forgetful, self-sabotaging creatures, I can't really think of a better idea than being able to eliminate temptation.  (This, of course, is why I eat all the cookies at once time.)  To eliminate a problem, however small, is a great luxury.

This person was rude.  They were rude and derogatory and disrespectful to me.  And worse, they were the kind of person who was sure they were right.  Because no one had ever told them they were wrong.  Right about me.  They don't even really know me.  Sitting in the grandstands, they knew all there was to know.

I had to give myself permission to let it go. 

People have always had lots of awful things to say to me and about me.   

A lot of awful things I have let sink in. 

That I choose to believe, simply because they were said.

*This is why I deleted my social media.  The internet is a platform for unfiltered, unsolicited, destructive, uncensored, competitive language.  Where no one is held accountable and the community can be wildly superficial.  This means, now, the only people who speak into my life are the ones I actually know.* 

(Also, I have had to learn how to pick my friends better, which is why at this point in my life I can probably count the good ones on one hand.  In any given week I have real, constructive conversations with maybe four of you, excluding the family.  Makes for some terrible loneliness and a lot less drama.  But it probably should stay this way.)

People have always had lots of awful things to say to me and about me.  They have so many opinions and so much advice.  Unsolicited.  But I listen and absorb it and internalize it and then shame myself because someone, who doesn't even know me, thinks poorly of me.  I made someone mad, just by existing.  And they must be right because they chose to say it. 

Maybe some of them were right.  I've explored that option too.  Regardless, what I wouldn't give to naturally, biologically, genetically be predisposition not to give a damn what they think?  Those people in the stands?

I was encouraged by one of the four the other day to "shut that shit down".  A huge smile broke across my face when I got the text message for a couple different reasons.  1) She was smart enough to call me on my cowardice. 2) I love when she says shit. 3) She cared enough not to let me make a mistake I would regret. 4) She doesn't lie to me.

That kind of criticism I can handle.  It may make me choke at first -- like a big smack on the back.  Knock all my air out.  But just long enough for me to remember: this person loves me.  Genuinely. 

Today I blocked another phone number.  Full of compliments and sugary words and then flares of nasty temper.  I hate tempers and I hate manipulators even more.

Someone in the grandstands, knowing all there was to know.  Who would never be accountable for their words and had no interest in reciprocity.  So I eliminated the problem. 

I will never be one of those people who believes to be honest we have to be brutal or harsh or destructive.  I don't respond well to that.  (Aside from athletes, I don't know a lot of people who do.) Sometimes we have to be honest and tell each other to shut shit down.  We have to be honest and tell each other to choose optimism when it's the hard choice.  We have to tell each other to stop being paranoid and we have to tell each other to stop being judgmental.  We have to tell each other to be brave and when to stop making the decision that will kill us.

But I do believe we have to have filters. 

The people who love us should have a voice in our lives.  Ultimately, even they do not determine our worth.  The people in our lives who love us should help us become better people, should challenge the weaknesses and spotlight the strengths and be willing to stand in the treacherous line at Moe's on a Monday with you and not say a word so everyone can get their queso. 

But what about the people who don't? 

I am not the center of any universe.  Neither are you.  But in the system, which is our lives, other people hold certain spots.  They transition through certain positions, or maintain certain perspectives. 

This is the realization I adopted, which got me back into the gym.  I was intimidated by the other gym members and I had to remind myself of where they stand.  I had to remind myself: those people see me, but they don't care about me.  What I do, don't do, how I sweat or don't sweat, how my ass looks in those pants... is not something anyone anywhere thinks about for longer than it takes for me to walk out of their line of vision. 

This does not make me insignificant. 

It means I can sweat and work and make gains and progress and not worry.  (But this is why, when the front desk guy started calling me by name, I got really paranoid.  Because now I am a tiny bit more significant in the one place I wanted to remain invisible.)

Who loves me? 

Who's invested in me?

Who do I allow to have influence over my emotions, my decisions, my opinion of myself?

The number of people who love and invest in me is dramatically smaller than the number of people in the third category.

I want to fix this.

I want to be able to hear criticism and determine whether or not it's constructive.  I want to be able to hear a compliment and determine whether or not it's genuine.  In the blink of an eye I want to be able to assess the answers to a series of questions (which may be up for revision):

Does this person love me?

What is this person's motivation?

Is this person right?

Is any part of what they said helpful?

What role do these loud, loud voices play in my life?  Do they have weight?  What is their influence?

And then give myself permission to smile and nod and keep going.

The last, hardest question for me to answer is: does this person matter?  Because, frankly, there are people who love me who do not matter.  And there are people who matter who do not necessarily love me (i.e. my boss). 

It sounds harsh to me.  I feel callous when I say it out loud or when I think it to myself.  But I'm not asking if an individual is important.  We are all important.  We all matter.  But do they matter in my life?  Does what they say matter to me?

Too often my answer is yes.

And that needs to change.

Very few of you truly matter to me.  You know who you are.  Chances are, I'm trying to be a lot more like you, which is why I chose you.  Thank you for choosing me.  And for hating my monsters as much as I hate them.  And for crying with me.... and for the past two years, crying for me. 

You matter.