Prickly
"They think you're prickly."
Ten years ago someone said that to me when I was in the middle of an ongoing personal trauma and feeling unsupported.
A few years later, in the midst of another conflict, someone told me, "You're a bitch. This person thinks you're a bitch, I think you're a bitch, everyone says you're a bitch."
At the time, it had the intended impact- I felt almost physically as if I had been slapped in the face. Because back then, "bitch" was about the nastiest thing someone could call me. I took such pride throughout my whole life in being "nice." I went to great efforts to make others feel better, to not offend, to tread lightly.
For my whole life.
But here's a funny twist.
Last year, I went through another traumatic life event, and as I wrestled with that and tried to claw my way out of the devastation, I realized very clearly that I had not been "bitch" enough. That my "being nice" had not served me, and in fact had made me vulnerable to some devastating outcomes that a "bitch" would never have suffered.
Bitch is such a derogatory term, and I don't mean it in its true sense. People who are nasty for the sake of being hurtful are true bitches.
But the "bitch" moniker I earned came from standing down an attack with fierce perseverance and protecting myself from people who intended to hurt or use me. It came from saying "no" and from having a dissenting opinion. It came from being prickly. From not appeasing or easing others at my own expense.
It came from setting my terms and sticking to them.
I dubbed 2017 "The Year of Fierce," to help guide my choices to stay in alignment with my values and needs.
Wanna hear an update? Wanna guess what happened?
I'll tell you.
I was put to the test.
The snakes in the grass revealed themselves. I never even knew that they were poisonous because I was always so determined not to disrupt their habitat. Everything was copacetic when I looked the other way. But as soon as I rustled the grass, the fangs came out.
Since then, it's been like a game of "Whack-a-Mole," as I thrash at the snakes who lash out at me. The lashing out happens when I say "no" or set an expectation that doesn't appeal to their ego. My thrashing back is.... a skill that needs honing. Realistically, thrashing at snakes doesn't get you far.
I see what it takes now, though.
The first step is to be a little prickly. Don't create a welcoming habitat for snakes in waiting.
Define yourself, protect yourself and foster the relationships that lack venom.
The next step is to recognize when you feel compelled to: apologize for something that wasn't wrong, smile when you're actually angry, minimize your accomplishments, inflate someone else's ego, underachieve, deflect a compliment, or any of the myriad ways we accommodate the snakes in the grass.
Be prickly. Be nice, too- loving kindness will always be my default.
But allowing your own life's values and needs to be dominated by another is not practicing loving kindness to yourself.
As the popular t-shirt says, "Do no harm, but take no shit."
Fierce in 2017 may be exactly what I need to cultivate the beautiful, luscious, snake-free grass of 2018.
Ten years ago someone said that to me when I was in the middle of an ongoing personal trauma and feeling unsupported.
A few years later, in the midst of another conflict, someone told me, "You're a bitch. This person thinks you're a bitch, I think you're a bitch, everyone says you're a bitch."
At the time, it had the intended impact- I felt almost physically as if I had been slapped in the face. Because back then, "bitch" was about the nastiest thing someone could call me. I took such pride throughout my whole life in being "nice." I went to great efforts to make others feel better, to not offend, to tread lightly.
For my whole life.
But here's a funny twist.
Last year, I went through another traumatic life event, and as I wrestled with that and tried to claw my way out of the devastation, I realized very clearly that I had not been "bitch" enough. That my "being nice" had not served me, and in fact had made me vulnerable to some devastating outcomes that a "bitch" would never have suffered.
Bitch is such a derogatory term, and I don't mean it in its true sense. People who are nasty for the sake of being hurtful are true bitches.
But the "bitch" moniker I earned came from standing down an attack with fierce perseverance and protecting myself from people who intended to hurt or use me. It came from saying "no" and from having a dissenting opinion. It came from being prickly. From not appeasing or easing others at my own expense.
It came from setting my terms and sticking to them.
I dubbed 2017 "The Year of Fierce," to help guide my choices to stay in alignment with my values and needs.
Wanna hear an update? Wanna guess what happened?
I'll tell you.
I was put to the test.
The snakes in the grass revealed themselves. I never even knew that they were poisonous because I was always so determined not to disrupt their habitat. Everything was copacetic when I looked the other way. But as soon as I rustled the grass, the fangs came out.
Since then, it's been like a game of "Whack-a-Mole," as I thrash at the snakes who lash out at me. The lashing out happens when I say "no" or set an expectation that doesn't appeal to their ego. My thrashing back is.... a skill that needs honing. Realistically, thrashing at snakes doesn't get you far.
I see what it takes now, though.
The first step is to be a little prickly. Don't create a welcoming habitat for snakes in waiting.
Define yourself, protect yourself and foster the relationships that lack venom.
The next step is to recognize when you feel compelled to: apologize for something that wasn't wrong, smile when you're actually angry, minimize your accomplishments, inflate someone else's ego, underachieve, deflect a compliment, or any of the myriad ways we accommodate the snakes in the grass.
Be prickly. Be nice, too- loving kindness will always be my default.
But allowing your own life's values and needs to be dominated by another is not practicing loving kindness to yourself.
As the popular t-shirt says, "Do no harm, but take no shit."
Fierce in 2017 may be exactly what I need to cultivate the beautiful, luscious, snake-free grass of 2018.
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