And the Award for Your Favorite Facebook Friend Goes to: Anyone But Me
These times are so challenging, who among us can really be our best selves? It seems impossible not to lose it now and then, use harsh language, spit venom. I realize that it is what we do when we feel defensive or threatened in some way, and what non-conservative/non-right wing Republican/non-Trump supporter hasn’t felt that way these days?
I find myself on social media posting things that I know put others (Conservative/Right Wing Republican/Trump Supporters) on the defensive, and maybe that’s my motive–tit for tat:
Your President makes my head want to explode, so here is a little bomb exploding on your Facebook page this morning, courtesy of me. Neener Neener Neener.
What The F?
If I had a analyst I would discuss this with her, but I don’t, because only rich people like Melania Trump can afford a decent analyst.
There was a time when I was able to approach sensitive subjects with tact and civility. I was diplomatic with people I didn’t agree with, and I was down with that.
Looking back now though, I wonder, was I being diplomatic or was I just afraid to say what I really thought?
When I was a little girl watching the Miss America pageant, I used to imagine what it would be like to be a contestant.
Of course like most little girls of that unenlightened era, I was swept up by the glitzy glamour of it all: beautiful evening gowns, sizzling swimsuits, high heels, red roses and a glittering crown, Oh My!
But there was another aspect of the pageant that I was always interested in–the honor of receiving the special award of Miss Congeniality.
I wanted to be Miss Congeniality. I wanted to be the one everyone liked. I wanted to be the friendliest, most helpful, most supportive (and least competitive) girl in the room.
I wasn’t interested in being the bitch, even if it cost me my imaginary crown.
And for the most part, once I got over a few adolescent bitch fits, (thank you rising estrogen levels), I was a congenial young woman. Throughout high school I was shy but friendly. I never got in anyone’s face. I made some close friendships and I was nice to everyone.
I don’t think anyone I knew then would remember me now as “That bitch.”
I was a nice person. I think I got that from my Mom.
I remained a nice person throughout most of my adult life.
I didn’t make waves. I didn’t debate. I didn’t challenge people’s ideas, no matter how much I might disagree. I always tried to find common ground. I made only comments that minimized the differences between myself and others, rather than outright disagree with anyone. I smiled a lot.
Those days are over…kind of. I am not a sixty year old trying to be Miss Congeniality. I am a sixty year old woman with an opinion and a voice and desire to speak truth to power.
And the more I believe something to be true, the more I don’t care if it rattles you.
Yesterday, I drafted a Facebook post that concluded:
Donald Trump is a cry baby with a poopy diaper who smears it all over and then blames his Mama because his room stinks.
A conservative friend of mine thought it was hate speech.
I thought it was an adroit observation based on discernible evidence.
I don’t back down from that statement. I don’t retract it. I don’t disown it.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t regret it a tiny bit, way back in my Miss Congeniality/please like me/left over from my childhood psyche, I’m a tad sorry that my friends amygdala was addled by my words. But I’ll get over it and so will she.
Because that’s what adults do.
Cry babies, not so much. But that’s another Facebook post for another day.
Here’s the way it is:
If you meet me in person, I won’t get in your face, I won’t angrily debate you, I won’t disrupt the flow of sociability with unpleasant truths. Because I really like people and my Mom taught me to be pleasant and it’s just easier that way. I’d rather laugh with anyone than argue. You might walk away thinking: Wow, what a congenial old gal!
But on my Facebook page, where you can block me, you can throw me the bird, you can ignore me, you can un-friend me if you must, and I will never know the difference, anything goes, within reason.
Which means I might say something that has you muttering…That bitch!
And still, it will not be anything that I will direct at you or anyone else in particular, with the exception of certain narcissistic world leaders and political parties full of creepy ass old white men.
So I guess you can say I have made peace with the fact that I will never win the “Your Favorite Facebook Friend” award.
Guess what? I’m down with that.
Sometimes being sixty rocks.