Attitude Adjustment

I have a bad attitude.

I'm stubborn. I'm short-tempered (when I'm not being passive-aggressive, that is.) I've been cursed with a memory retention that can vividly recount every insult ever hurled at me, but often can't remind me of why I walked into a room.

I overshare inappropriate stories. I listen to gossip. I cuss too much for good taste. I make poor choices. I have trouble keeping secrets and I'm much too quick to speak.

I'll often go for a laugh over kindness. I have a tendency to feel sorry for myself. I'm terribly moody and there are days when even I don't enjoy my own company.

You want to know why?!

I'll say I'm stubborn because I'm German. I'm hot-tempered because I'm Irish. And, when I'm passive-aggressive, it's all my Swedish heritage to blame.

My memory is the fault of all the mean people in the world. I'm inappropriate because I'm too honest. I can't keep secrets because I just don't remember who told me what and I hear gossip because I haven't learned to walk away quickly enough. 

I cuss because it feels good to, dammit! I make poor choices because life's not been fair to me and I'm quick to speak because no one's really listening anyway. 

I'll slay you for a laugh, because I need the attention. I feel sorry for myself because I'm "unloved". I'm moody because I'm a woman, duh. And, I don't enjoy my own company every once in while because God is in my heart and He is constantly reminding me that none of this is true and I just need to get over it!

So how does one simply get over it?

Is it our fault that life isn't fair? That we're forced to deal with unpleasant people? That we really are hard-wired a certain way?

Are we in control of how the universe acts? Of the judgment of the earth? Of the way we were made?

No. These are simply the challenges presented us. Ones that we have the daily opportunity of passing or failing with our second-to-second decisions of choosing from right or wrong.

Like Ms. Maya reminds us in our quote for the day, there are going to be things in this life we can't change. Not one of us was promised ultimate dominion over all things that be. The only choice we have in these circumstances is to change ourselves. To learn to deal. To improve our own outlooks and actions.

I'm learning that even acclaimed women of wisdom struggle with the same bad attitude that I'm now willing to confess to.

Author Luci Swindoll once confessed in a journal entry that she made public, "Today I decided I'm really cranky. Without meaning to or wanting to, I'm becoming a cranky, irritable old woman. I hate that and am committed to working on it. It's driving me crazy and is maddening to everybody else. Lord, help me!" And in other writing, "I am a very human being. Each of us carries within us falsehood, self-centeredness, and the capacity to do unbelievably unkind things to others."

Patsy Clairmont confides, "I realize how tart I become when inconvenienced. It doesn't take much to topple me. I want to believe that, if called upon to be a heroine, I would rise to the occasion. But experience has proven me feeble."

We're not alone in our crankiness and our moody dispositions are in good company. What separates the wheat from the chaff is what one chooses to do with those moods and unfair circumstances we've been forced to deal with. Make them our excuses or learn to forge a path around them.

Oprah Winfrey once said, "I don't think of myself as a poor deprived ghetto girl who made good. I think of myself as somebody who from an early age knew I was responsible for myself, and I had to make good."

Patsy Clairmont says she's learned that "Years of childish actions passed before I realized how selfish and destructive my moody behavior was. It wasn't easy to break my old response patterns, but it was liberating. I gradually learned not to give into swings in my emotions but to give up my need to be in control." She also realized that "Owning my edginess instead of justifying reactive behavior has helped to improve my disposition."

I love that! It's honest to admit you were made edgy. But, it can't be used as excuse for poor behavior. Yes, I'm edgy, and I'm sorry. I'm working with it as best I can and I know I can do better.

This week's excuse was spelled P.M.S. Hear me ladies?! That week out of every month where it's just that much harder to act human. (Not to mention, ladylike.) When its strength has me too weak to be kindhearted, sometimes I find that just plain hibernating can be the best way to keep things in check. Controlling my actions by inaction, if you will.

My more reliable defense is a biblical one. I know not all my readers share the same faith as I, but for me it's a "don't knock it 'til you've tried it" remedy that has never failed me.

Spilling the beans to the One who wants to listen. That's right, the man upstairs. That God fellow. 

Our friends don't always want to hear us vent. They're human. They're moody too. After awhile they will roll their eyes at us and try their best to scooch away from our drama.

God, meanwhile, has begged to hear from us. (Psalm 34:17-18) David of Old Testament fame sang, "Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us." (Psalm 62:8b)

Psalm 44:21 tells us He already knows the secrets of our hearts. No human may realize that harsh word heard earlier today really hit a nerve with you. But, He's already looking there, waiting for you to come talk it out. Without the eye-rolling and exasperation that our human cohorts might dole out on us.

I have an odd fear of inconveniencing others. Of being a pest and not always having a trust-worthy audience to vent to. Christian author Marilyn Merberg writes, "Isn't it a comfort to know that God's love is never miserly, never punishing of our secret, doubt-plagued thoughts? He will never pelt us with anger. He will never leave us, even when we whine and throw tantrums in our frustrations over what we don't like or don't understand. After all, he knows that we're just candy-tossing toddlers at heart."

I've never approached God with and a hurt or a heartache and came out of that conversation untouched. I've never heard a holy eye-roll thundering from Heaven or felt like I've screwed up too much to be forgiven once again. Ezekiel 36:26 promises, "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." 

I've always left these conversations (yes, prayers) refreshed, renewed and often forgetting what had me in a tizzy to begin with. That's a spritual touch of peace and comfort that you can't pay for or find any place else.

But, what about the haters?  They're ruining our lives!

Since it's popular opinion that haters are simply gonna hate, here's one more area we need to relinquish false control over. It's hard, because hours after encountering a hater, I'm going to dream up at least a dozen awesome comebacks to hurl their way next meeting.

But, using my biblical defenses has always proven more effective. Psalm 37 1-3a begs us, "Do not fret evildoers, be not envious toward wrongdoers. For they will wither quickly like the grass... Trust in the Lord and do good." 

The book of Proverbs also has alot of unkind things to say about the haters and how they will be handled by Almighty. Let's just say, our Maker has the haters on lock and we can unload that quiver of insults we've stored up in defense.

Do not fear them, God has them handled. We don't have to be the bad guy in return. Do not be jealous of them, they've got nothing we need and usually even have their own excuse for acting that way. Turn away, "do good". They may make us angry, but it's not our job to get even. Just let God do his thing.

No more excuses!

Since the haters are being handled and I don't get to blame them for my bad attitude I'm going to throw away all my other excuses too.

My German trait will be my family nose. My fair skin is now my Irish heritage and my blue eyes came direct from Sweden with nothing else attached.

My memory has way more good than bad in it, if I really take the time to sort things out. The secrets and gossip come my way because I'm a good listener and I can learn to be more responsible with that duty.

I can be slower to speak by reactivating my filter and thinking through my responses before blurting them out. People are listening. Don't be fooled that there aren't ears everywhere. (I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a hater now, would I?) And, I've always felt that insult humor is the lowest form of comedy and the most glaring sign of bullying, so I don't need to reciprocate it when its thrown my way. 

I overshare as a means or humanizing myself and bonding with others. It's good intentioned and highly effective, really. But, I could certainly slow down my mosey on the ultimate truthfulness.

There are more womanly traits than just moodiness. Get it under control or just hide when it needs to pass. I don't need to contribute to giving an entire gender a bad name.

And, in most cases I really do enjoy my own company. More than other peoples' even at times. I'm a friggin' barrel of monkeys when I've got that attitude in check. And, I'm sure you are too!

This is my effort. I'm really going to try (again.) 

If you catch me failing, please feel free to (gently) kick me in the ass. Just be sure to call it my "keister" while doing so, to be a little bit less offensive.

Phenomenally Challenged

Phenomenal Woman, by Maya Angelou

"Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size.

But, when I start to tell them, they think I'm telling lies.

I say, it's in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips,

The stride of my step, the curl of my lips.

I am woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me.

I walk into a room, just as cool as you please.

And, to a man, the fellows stand or fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me, a hive of honey bees.

I say, it's the fire in my eyes, and the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist, and the joy in my feet.

I am woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me.

Men themselves have wondered, what they see in me.

They try so much, but they can't touch, my inner mystery.

When I try to show them, they say they still can't see.

I say, it's in the arch of my back, the sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts, the grace of my style.

I am woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me.

Now you understand, just why my head's not bowed

I don't shout or jump about, or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing, it ought to make you proud.

I say, it's the click in my heels, the bend of my hair,

The palm of my hand, the need for my care.

'Cause I'm a woman. Phenomenally. 

Phenomenal woman, that's me."

Educators ought to teach a class in phenomenalism to every teen aged group of young women. It would make a world of difference to humankind.

I grew up thinking I was quite phenomenally challenge. Partly because I survived these awkward teenage years:

 

And, partly because, even as an eventually filled-out grown woman who had become a contact lens owner and learned her way around a pair of tweezers, I would still be known to trip over my toes, legs and tongue a little too often for comfort's sake.

If a Maya Angelou class were a prerequisite in my high school, I may have had a different focus in life back then, besides dreaming of ways to have my butt fat injected into my breasts.

So much of our adolescence is spent worrying about the wrong things. How to get attention, how to look a certain way, where to learn what's cool and who to hang out with to get you there. And, even those who'd mastered those things, were still usually caught up in a case of "Whoa is me".

Although my teenage years came to fruition with me looking as seen in the examples above, there was alot of good not noticed until looking back in retrospect. 

I didn't belong to any particular clique, per say. I was friendly to all and didn't really have any enemies. I never had a lack of friends. No one seemed repelled by my paleness or the unusual chisel of my nose. I made people laugh and comfortable enough to confide in. And, my second kiss was a clumsy surprise by a sweet teenage boy who was simply excited to be in my presence. (Let's just not talk about the first one right now... *shudder*)

All of these ingredients add up to what should have been sublimely happy high school years, but I also suffered from that lack of confidence and a pretty major case of "Whoa is Me".

Whoa is me? Whoa should be no one.

I say "Whoa" to the teenage girl I saw shopping this week. Not one ounce of cellulite, perfect hair almost down to her waist and half of her ass cheeks hanging out of her cut-off shorts. Whoa to her self esteem, for that being her only way to get noticed. Whoa to her talents for being undiscovered and overlooked. And, whoa to her damn daddy for letting her leave the house like that!

Why don't young girls understand we are all the phenomenal woman described in Ms. Angelou's most famous poem?

We all have arms and hips and a curl to our lips. No matter the shape or size, we all have breasts, a waist and a potential smile on our face. It was never perfection that made a woman. It was the God-given female parts that are not just physical, but also radiate from the heart and soul. 

This can even be recognized as a gangly twelve-year old on her first babysitting job. Why does that little toddler cling to her leg, grasp on to her shoulders; be comforted in her voice, her heartbeat and the gentle rock in her step? It's the first signs of womanhood radiating from one's spirit and doing its job. This womanhood will always be recognized in her for the rest of her life, no matter what she ends up looking like and what pant size she may become.

Never does Maya mention the phenomenal woman as being known for the smoothness of her thighs or the flatness of her belly. Never the shortness of her hem or the looseness of her morals. What brought her men to their knees and made them swarm like honey bees was her just being there, being real and being the woman she was meant to be.

Yes, the last time I sat it a man's lap, he may have said "Oof!" But, he didn't push me away to the floor. I was a woman and my presence was welcome, even if it was slightly uncomfortable in the physical sense. Good people tend to accept the companionship and goodness of others. They're not constantly focusing on the lines on your face, the folds of your waist or the lack of symmetry in your physical make-up.

Today's challenge will be to teach the young girls in your life their own phenomenalism.

Raise them with the strength to say "no" and the guts to say "yes". Raise them with confidence in things other than the shape and looks of their waist, eyes, teeth and thighs. Point out to them their talents, they won't always have confidence to recognize these on their own. Take notice of their interests and hobbies, even if they seem unusual or lame. Set an example of not worrying about what others think and needing superficial attention. Be an example of nurturing. Applaud their kindness, laugh at their humor and encourage their unique paths in life. Help them find strength in their independence, but the humility to accept the love of others. Bless them with hugs, be patient through their moody days and never give up on your part of helping create another phenomenal woman in this world.

An Untold Story

Maya Angelou's death earlier this year affected me in an completely unexpected way.

The days and weeks that followed were a bombardment of Angelou quotes, adages and poetry recitings all over social media. It made me equally grateful for Ms. Angelou's example and wisdom shared with this world; and mournful that there would be no new tales for her to tell.

Most of all it challenged me as a woman to leave some kind of profound mark on this world. 

My reputation in life has been a strange one. I'm a 39 year-old woman whose never married. Partially by choice and partially by lack of reciprocated interest on the part of the men who've passed through my life. I've never had children of my own, but have spent the last decade of my life immersed in the world of my eight nieces and nephews. I have been a part of the full-time working world since graduating high school, never having pursued a formal college education.

It doesn't all seem that rare to me, it's just my life and how things unfolded. But, for some reason this status causes quite a stir in social circles. 

Of course, the first questions one's asked in any introductory conversation are, "Where did you go to school?", "What does your husband do?" and "How many kids do you have?"

When your answer to all of the above is a buzzer, three strikes and you're out! You're no longer interesting.

Well, honey, I tell you, I am still interesting. Even if I don't fit into your mold!  Womanhood is not solely about motherhood and wifehood and stepping stones in a grand career. It's taking what the good Lord gave you and doing what you can with it to leave your own unique impression on the world.

In the last few months since Maya Angelou's death, I've been reading her memoirs in chronological order. And, you know, this most famous of woman didn't exactly fit into the typical mold herself. And, maybe that's what has made her so intriguing to her thousands (perhaps millions) of readers world-wide.

Phenomenal womanhood has never been about being perfect. Perfection is dull and who needs it! Phenomenal is defined as being remarkable and extraordinary. And, extraordinary doesn't fit into any type of mold imaginable.

My Maya quote for today is "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." and this new blog is about being you and not being afraid to unleash your story on this world.

If you don't fit into the mold, come along with me on this journey. If you're trying desperately to cram into that mold, lighten up and ride along with us too. Life is too short to waste so much energy on unattainable perfection.

The structure I want to take with this blog is to have each post focused on a popular quote, be it Maya or any other quotable woman from history (maybe we'll let the men in somewhere too.)

As women, I want to encourage us to support one anothers' stories without judgment. Find a safe place to tell yours and be a good and trusted listener to those who confide in you with theirs.

I'm not sure exactly where this blog will take us. But, dammit, it's going somewhere, so buckle up 'cause here it goes!