This is what I know:
I am smart, kind, funny, good at my job
I am not beautiful, sexy, and I am not That girl.
I never have been, in 42 years. So to go along with thinking I am is to invite disappointment, misery and heartbreak. Having men tell me these things and be interested in me is not Me, it is not who I am. For whatever reason, this is an anomaly, and I would be foolish and delusional to think it has some substance. The longer I play into this delusion the worse it will be in the end.
The loud boom you might have just heard was the sound of me falling back to earth this week. Girls like me were never meant to fly. And thinking we can or should leads only to an inevitable collision with gravity.
Remember the Stephen King novel, Carrie and the movie of the same name starring Sissy Spacek? Carrie was an awkward, shy, homely teenage misfit, who at the same time envied and avoided the Beautiful People at her high school. Carrie knew she was not That girl, but part of her longed to be. The Beautiful People thought up a little joke to play on Carrie. They let her believe she could be That girl. They showered her with false praise, encouraged her to go beyond her comfort zone, to believe she could be like them…beautiful, desired, accepted. The Beautiful People convinced Carrie that she—homely, awkward misfit—could be Prom Queen! Carrie could only dream of such things. But they convinced her, and she stuck her neck out. She went to Prom feeling beautiful, evolved, accepted, happy! And when she stood on the stage accepting her crown as Prom Queen, she thought she was one of them. But the Beautiful People were out to teach Carrie a lesson. About how you should never try to reach above your lot in life. You are who you are. So they fixed the contest, so that Carrie would be Prom Queen, so that she would believe all they said about her. And then, as she stood there, they dumped a bucket of pig’s blood all over her and started to laugh. They laughed at the sight of her, and they laughed at the absurdity of someone like Carrie believing she could be That girl. They got her good.
And I imagine how Carrie, standing there with her curled hair, evening gown and dripping in pig’s blood would have described her emotional state to a reporter on the scene, much like an athlete does immediately after winning or losing the gold medal:
“Carrie, this was probably the biggest moment in your life so far, something you have looked forward to, dreamed of, and it didn’t turn out how you had imagined. What are you feeling right now, Carrie?”
“Well Bob, it’s really a disappointing outcome, I really thought I could do it and I trained really hard for tonight. I would say I am disappointed, embarrassed, hurt, humiliated, sad, and I feel rejected. And I am also really angry, not so much at what happened here tonight, but at myself for thinking I was ready for this level of competition. I think I knew it wasn’t right, but I kept listening to the people around me and they were all so positive. I think I have learned my lesson, Bob, and I am not going to compete at this level again.”
“So, are you saying you’re considering retirement, Carrie?”
“Well, Bob, it’s something I think I need to seriously consider given the outcome today.”
“Thanks Carrie. Back to you in the studio Jim….”
I am Carrie. I am the developmentally challenged little boy whose baseball team lets him think he hit a home run, cheers him around the bases as they purposely fumble the ball and walk around the infield. When he crosses home plate, they all cheer wildly and congratulate him, and he beams with pride thinking he has just done something great. Has he? No, they just let him think that. In reality he is a simple fool who will never be like the rest of them, and whose self-pride is based on a lie.
The West is preoccupied with “more, better, best”. We are not supposed to be happy with our lot in life. We are supposed to demand the best; be the happiest; be all that you can be! The truth is, only the beautiful get to be beautiful, only the happy get to be happy. The rest of us have to be content with our lot in life, with whatever struggle we are given. To demand more is selfishness, and arrogance.
Girls like me and Carrie were never meant to fly....
Are you sitting down?
11 years ago
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8 comments:
Okay Q. You win. I give up… for the moment.
But please answer one question for me. Carrie died ultimately because she was rejected by the “beautiful” people. But – please excuse me – wouldn’t it be more accurate to say she died because she was rejected by people who were basically evil at heart? Now don’t con me – would you really want to run with that bunch?
(Okay. That’s two questions. Sue me.)
You're giving up Jack? Already? That's what I was doing....
Would I want to run with that bunch? Not necessarily RUN with them, but appear as though I could if I wanted, ya. Carrie died because of her own psychokinetic wrath, but what tipped it off was the rejection of those she tried to be accepted by. For her, I think acceptance was at the heart of it, it was the most important thing of all.
Q
What if it never gets better? I mean what ultimately pushes someone over the edge whether they give up on themselves or life? Is it worth it going on? Or should we plan an exit and take as many with us as we can?
After all is said and done, what is the point of it all? Is there a point to the down days?
Alix
Thank you for your comment Alix...some days I'll admit, I ask the same questions. What's the point? In fact, I think that is a question that has been asked through the ages, by people at every stage of life. It is what has provided the impetus for religion, philosophy, literature, art, music, psychology. I don't know THE answer. Sometimes I have AN answer, but it depends on how I feel and how the last 20 people have reacted to me. Planning an exit and taking others with me has never been a consideration though. Because I don't hate others; I don't want revenge. Most times I just want peace, acceptance, calm. But asking the question and searching for answers is not a bad thing. It is how one goes about finding the answers that can be a problem. I hope you are okay; please write and let us know, you seem about ready to give up. Please don't. Debate with us awhile.
Q
Still here.5/25/08
Hey, Alix...I'm so glad you wrote in. So glad to hear you are still around. How are you?
Q
Some days it seems there is no point in going on. For what? I ask myself. A bad econmony? Rising gas prices, increased stress and medication to deal with it all (at an ever increasing price as well.)
I don't need to always live in "my happy place", but I need a respite from Hell. Where did you find yours? Is it working for you? You seem happier. What changed?
Alix
Hello Alix...so good to hear from you again. You bring up good points, ones I am sure many, many people think of to varying degrees. Some days, I agree, it is like that. Why do I keep going on? For the other days. All the other days when the economy and gas prices and crap don't matter because someone you respect just told you they like your work, or someone cute just smiled at you on the bus, or your cat is kneading your chest and purring, telling you how glad she is for a snuggle. Then those bad things don't matter so much. Throughout time, the one consistent thing with humankind is we have continued. There were many occasions in history when things were very bleak, and people suffered--plagues, wars, poverty--and always the majority of people continued on. I don't pretend to know what your own personal respite from Hell will be. I think ultimately you have to find it inside, but you can only do that by opening up to the outside. By that I mean let people in; friends, family, professionals, strangers, animals. Don't withdraw, don't hide. You are right, I am happier now. Last Sunday was 6 months since my husband left me. I still have not seen or spoken to him. I still have no way of contacting him. I didn't think I could possibly find happiness again, but it found me! By taking time for myself, to be kind to myself; have a nice bath, a glass of wine, some good chocolate. Treats! Lowering my expectations of myself. Reaching out; allowing friends to provide what I needed and when; seeing my psychiatrist and believing him when he said time will heal; this blog, where I have had the opportunity to meet such bright, talented people, such as you. And, putting myself back out there. Dating. Not because I felt like it, but because I had to. "Fake it 'til you make it". Sometimes you have to go through the motions, even if you don't feel like it, go out, laugh, meet people. And, yes, medications. I have a mood disorder. I know that. And this latest catastrophe scared me; I thought I would go back into a black depression (I was in one 7 yrs ago). But, I didn't. I have a good doctor and he took care of me. What changed for me is the passage of time, and receiving external validation, compliments and encouragement from others. And starting to like myself again. I'm a work in progress; I hope I always am. At 42, I still have some life to go, and I still have a lot of things I can and want to do. I still hurt, I still cry, but I don't feel hopeless, helpless or worthless anymore.
Alix, my email address is ssqueue@gmail.com; I would really like it if you wrote to me and we could carry on this conversation. I am interested to know your thoughts.
Please take care.
Q
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