"I keep a lot of shit to myself because in reality, nobody gives a fuck."
-- Unknown
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| Self portrait 9-17-14 |
"I have torn to pieces my robe of speech,
and have let go of the desire to converse."
--Rumi,
Hush, Don't Say Anything To God: Passionate Poems of Rumi
I was at the corner store yesterday, headed for the checkout, when I ran into someone I knew.
He's a real chipper, cheerful guy. Nice enough.
At another time, under other circumstances, I'd have called him a friend. Now? An acquaintance. Just some guy I recognized at the grocery store.
He was all smiles and "Good to see you!" He reached out and grabbed me and hugged me heartily, right there in the grocery store, my arms straight down at my sides holding onto my celery and bacon, giving no indication that I wanted to be hugged at all.
Was I glad to see him?
Meh.
Honestly? When he came around the corner I kind of shrank back and scanned for the quickest getaway, like I often do when I run into certain people from from a certain painful chapter of my life. Which he is. This guy didn't personally inflict the pain. But through no fault of his own, he is guilty by association. My mind and my heart automatically lump him in with the rest of it.
And so I went into self-defense mode.
I pulled back. I threw up a shield. I armored up.
After he monologued about himself for a few minutes, he asked me breezily "So what's new with you?"
There was a time when I'd have "shared," as they say, what's happening in my life. I'd have let myself get sucked into a long, time consuming, nowhere conversation. Not because I really wanted this person to know stuff about me, but because I was insecure enough to think I had to impress him, or prove that my life was valid, or important, or good enough or full enough of what I thought he thought it should be good and full of. I'd have confused a superficial, spontaneous, empty exchange with something real.
Not anymore.
I don't waste the energy.
All I said to him was "Nothing. I live a pretty quiet, simple life these days."
He looked a tad befuddled and said "Well, I guess there's value in that, too."
And the conversation was over.
I'd successfully barred the door.
I paid for my celery and bacon and headed home to my very happy, full, valid, good life which I was happier than happy to keep all to myself, lest I dilute its goodness by spilling it out all over the grocery store floor at the feet of someone who acted like he gave a shit, but who very probably forgot all about me the second we parted.
Which is perfectly fine with me.
