Just who the &@*#! does she think she is?

Friends,

I ask the question of myself - just who do I think I am, that I'm telling you all what to do? Here I sit, humbled yet again, thank God. It’s been a weekend of the highest highs, and the lowest lows. As I was considering just one of the many lessons that were sent my way yesterday, about which I will tell you soon, I asked my husband, almost in despair, “How many layers am I going to have to peel from this onion before I get rid of all my pride, anger, and defenses?” Even as I asked it, the answer came to me: hopefully, not until I'm dead. If I quit changing, I quit growing, and boy, do I have some growing to do.

It’s not really like an onion, though. I think it’s more like the TV commercial I used to see all the time when I was a kid – “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?” Onion layers peel off cleanly and precisely. I am more like the Tootsie Pop, the hard shell being worn away little by little, unevenly, and occasionally life takes a big bite out of that shell to expose more and more of the soft center. I like my shell, though. I’ve used it for years to keep things (people) out, and to keep other things (me) in. A hard shell is good protection, but if I hide inside of it, I can't reach anyone outside, and they can't see me.

“A Friend” posted another comment recently that was filled with excellent questions – questions I have to answer. If I finally forgot myself long enough to let some light in, then I think I understand that my friend is telling me I’m not going to be able to help anyone else until I have been helped myself. Hope and healing – it exists, and I have to get there, and I want to share it with you, so if you are in need, like me, maybe we can go together.

I guess the first thing I have to do is stop trying to reason my way out of things, to get rid of the voice that can turn people off. There is such an enormous difference between intellect, emotional maturity, and spiritual enlightenment. I learned this from people with more wisdom than I possess, so we can rely on it. I may have been intellectually gifted, but I’ve remained emotionally immature and spiritually retarded for a very long time, particularly because I’ve always tried to use reason and intellect alone to deal with life’s experiences.

I objectify (if that's a word) my own experiences, to remove myself from the emotions and talk about it in the third person. For example, as I considered answering the question why I was sexually active at such a young age to begin with, my first tendency was to talk about all the statistics relating to girl children who have no father figures, etc., blah, blah, instead of talking about what happened to me, and why I strayed from what was right, and what the emotional consequences were for me, personally.

As a result, when I explain just about anything, I sound arrogant and rude, because I distance myself from the pain or sorrow, or whatever emotions surround the subject. I sound as if I am above making all of the mistakes that the rest of the world makes, and I sound as if no one but me knows the truth. My tone is condescending because I use too much explanation. It isn’t that I think others are stupid, even though it sounds that way – I really feel as if I don’t communicate well unless I can explain it all, and the explanation is for me, and not for my listener - but I don't convey that impression.

Arrogance and condescension: this is so far from what I really feel inside. I’m only just beginning to learn why others have always felt so ambiguous about me. I have more compassion for other people than I reveal, and as you get to know me, you learn this. But I’m so off-putting at first that it’s difficult to get to that woman, the one who might be likeable and kind. She hides behind the know-it-all, the control freak, the pontificating bitch. Just ask my husband – he has learned all kinds of tricks to get through the shell, to get to the woman who can act unselfishly, even if she says all kinds of bunk in the process. I thank God for him.

I am not really as judgmental as I sound, which always shocks people when I tell them that – unless they see proof of it, they don’t believe me, and I can’t blame them. And if they do see a softer side of me, it sure doesn't reconcile with the hard shell. The criticism, argumentativeness, defensiveness, and arrogance that you hear when you listen to me: all of it is self-directed. I’m never as hard on others as I am on myself. Not to use psycho-babble, which I hate, but I am really not in touch with my own emotions – not yet – so my voice is too often harsh and edgy and sounds as if it is directed outward. I find my own emotions difficult-to-impossible to handle, because they can’t be reasoned with. Joy is just as hard to take as sorrow; criticism as hard to take as praise; and dislike is easier for me to accept than love.

If you hear my true voice, the honest one from my heart, it’s not so bad, I guess. I have received the kindest responses from the people with whom I’ve been the most open, even though at times the truth is mixed in with the arrogant garbage. If I preach at you, then you will know I’m touching on something deeply personal, an area in which I have failed, most likely. I hope to learn to talk to you in a voice you will like to hear; to be completely honest with you and with myself; to expose the soft, chewy center where I hide; and not to be ashamed of being fallible, emotional, and human.