Guys. Self-examination is exhausting. Necessary, but exhausting. I envy those people who are able to act without considering the consequences (and now, because I swear my thoughtfulness is my fatal flaw, I need to make it clear that I’m not referring to anyone in particular here; just people, out there somewhere. The U.S. has been really great at this lately, so you know what I mean).
I’ve been really hard on myself this week. I have been second-guessing every choice, every word, every action that may be misconstrued, misunderstood, or mistaken as something offensive or damaging. Instead of sharing my ideas clearly and thoughtfully, I hesitated this week, wondering whether my words will actually help clear the air, or make them even worse. To be totally honest, because I’ve never had this problem before, it’s been really awful.
My character dictates that I focus on being so kind as a sort of preventative maintenance to any altercation. It’s why I’m so bad at confrontations. I avoid them at all costs, like Janie Crawford in the beginning of Their Eyes Were Watching God. But to consider every implication of my actions? I can’t do it. Who, pray tell, can?
At the end of 3rd grade, we received personal certificates specially decided by our teacher. While others’ certificates read “Good Reader” or “Great Speller,” my certificate was awarded to me for “Remembering that No One is Perfect.”
Thanks, Ms. Slater. <3
Regardless, I have wondered why trying to be a good, thoughtful, caring person this week has been so hard. It feels futile, weak, and down-right depressing. In fact, it feels like good is the opposite of what’s accepted as the norm. What the heck is going on? [I have a theory that it’s a combination of the political climate and the drabby weather outside, but this isn’t a space for solutions – just reflection. (Because apparently I haven’t had enough of it.)]
But I try anyway. My only defense is that, maybe, someone will see my example and be less of a jerk to the next person. I have absolutely no way of knowing this for certain, but it’s enough to put that stupid smile on my face, as wary as it is to be there.
As thorny as this week has felt, the largest rose has blossomed on the bush. If I didn’t keep getting pricked with thorns this week, I would not have had a chance to feel the comforting support of my husband. It’s true. When my hands feel cold and clammy, his warmth is enough to remind me that life is still good. When I doubt my inherent goodness and worth, he shakes his head sadly, like he hadn’t done his job well enough as a husband. Like, if he had been doing his job well enough, then I wouldn’t be sitting here like a dejected puppy. That’s how good he is.
But we’re not perfect. And we’re constantly trying to find ways to improve ourselves. Turns out that, this week, we weren’t focusing on improvement.
We were being forced to focus on what we already have: a marriage that, when we doubt everything about ourselves, there’s a person who says, “No. Stop. You are enough. You are good. I love You.” And he says it in such a way that I don’t have to second-guess him.
Duh, a little voice winks, he married you. Of course he means it.
And then I don’t doubt it at all.
How bizarre.
