“I want to spare you a lot of sadness
\nI don’t know what he’s told you
\nBut I can guarantee you
\nHe doesn’t live with mother
\nOr what you’d call a roommate
\nHe’s just a – I can’t say it
\nPoor Betty
\nYou ask him
\nI’d love to hear his answer”<\/p>\n
I was listening to this and was wondering about the truth – how we define it.\u00a0 What we believe to be true.\u00a0 What we shut our eyes to.\u00a0 What we will never believe, regardless of who tells us, or what evidence there is.\u00a0 Because, there is a certain comfort to “our truth”, to “our reality”.\u00a0 Even when it is something that brings us great pain, it is nonetheless a constant – and in life, sometimes a bad constant is better than no constant at all.<\/p>\n
The writer in me tries to conjure up a scenario that would work – some way to be heard, to break through the reality that someone else has constructed.\u00a0 But then I think to myself – how easily would someone break through my reality?\u00a0 Not very.\u00a0 It’s a realization that forces me to listen.\u00a0 And I try awfully hard to see other points of view.\u00a0 \u00a0I actually respect them – as I expect mine to be respected.\u00a0 However, I rarely concede that I am wrong – I will dig my heels in pretty hard.\u00a0 But I don’t let things go.\u00a0 I mull those contrary arguments over and over in my head, and probably obsess for a few days about “what if” – not necessarily what if I am wrong, but what if someone else could be right – or at least right for them.\u00a0 If my biggest fear is not being heard, my second is not hearing.\u00a0 And to hear someone else, sometimes you have to not listen to yourself.<\/p>\n
I do envy some of these others – people for whom things are black and white.\u00a0 This person is a hero, this person is a villain, and let’s move on from there.\u00a0 I don’t believe I see anyone in those terms – even those I don’t care for.\u00a0 This way of looking at people was shifted forever after a high school reunion.\u00a0 Up until that point, I typically wouldn’t be found at such an event – the people I wanted to stay in touch with, I stayed in touch with.\u00a0 The others – well, I likely didn’t stay in touch with them for a reason.\u00a0 But, curiosity got the better of me one year – that and the fact that I looked really good.\u00a0 In high school, I saw myself as an awkward misfit.\u00a0 In the intervening years, I had blossomed, gained confidence, and really liked the idea of showing up at a high school reunion as the “new me”.<\/p>\n
What I discovered was that the new me wasn’t so different from the old me.\u00a0 OK, there was one girl who cried the entire time we danced and said, “I would have been so much nicer to you if I knew you’d grow up to be so gorgeous.”\u00a0 And we wonder where we get these crazy messages!\u00a0 But most people saw the new me as just a slightly polished old me – I was fine then, and I was fine now.\u00a0 However, looking at them, I saw many people who’s best years were behind them.\u00a0 People on their second (or third) marriages.\u00a0 People who relived the days of high school glory as the “good ole days”.\u00a0 People who peaked in their teens.<\/p>\n
And what I felt was love and compassion and empathy for them.\u00a0 I realized they were a lot like me.\u00a0 I went through those years feeling that I wasn’t being seen the way I was on the inside.\u00a0 So many of my classmates were feeling that way now.\u00a0 I took them off their pedestals, took myself out of that moat, and put us on equal footing.\u00a0 And realized we had a whole lot more in common than I ever knew.<\/p>\n
Since that time, some relationships grew.\u00a0 But for the most part, they remain a part of my past.\u00a0 The funny thing about the past – it helps define who you are today.\u00a0 And for that, I am eternally grateful.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“I want to spare you a lot of sadness I don’t know what he’s told you But I can guarantee you He doesn’t live with mother Or what you’d call a roommate He’s just a – I can’t say it Poor Betty You ask him I’d love to hear his answer” I was listening to …<\/p>\n