-by Francene Gillis
“You stupid lightbulb!”
“I am going to scream if he does not stop snoring!”
“Grrr ….”
Telephone rings.
“Another 1-800 number. They always call at suppertime!”
“Who moved my shampoo? I always put it in that spot. You took it. It’s gone!”
Must be the time of year. The gloriously coloured leaves are falling from the trees, students are arduously back at school, families are back into rushed routines. I am lonesome, fearful, cranky, or maybe more accurately, irritated. Even the smallest things get to me, and I have to keep myself in check. That involves having a self-awareness of what I am doing, when I am doing it. Vague I know, but awareness is the first step to reflection and change, or in this situation – the ability to cope with that which I cannot control.
Did you know that we all like to control? Some perhaps mores than others. We also have a difficult time giving up our control to someone else. Doing so, requires trust, faith, and risk. But it is never acceptable to let someone else control us to the point that we are no longer ourselves. There is a tremendous danger therein of losing our identity, with emotional and mental abuse rearing their ugly heads. Unfortunately, manipulation is often the suitcase that travels with extreme control, and it requires being on our toes at all times. If we have no voice, we are being controlled.
When working with a group we often need to share or give up control. It requires a willingness to work as a team, sometimes accepting that ours is not the best idea or plan, as well as possessing a willingness to share in the accomplishments of all involved. We must be willing to attentively and respectfully listen to others, to really hear their contributions. And it demands a willingness out of necessity to be honest, but diplomatic. If everyone has the same goal and agenda, working as a group is always the best way to go, as the more vantage points the better.
Often complicating the mix, it is when we feel we have lost control that fear and doubt creep in, usually at night when much of the world is sleeping. It also filters in when we are tired, stressed, or overwhelmed. Regaining control requires knowledge, patience, fortitude, and determination, all fed by motivation, for without that M word, we would all be pleasantly plump couch potatoes, content to complacently sit and stare bleary-eyed at a talking visual screen, absorbing who knows what. It is when we feel that we have no or little control, that our emotions run amuck, and we spiral.
My emotions have been running on a daily rollercoaster, even within a given day when struggles become too much, which is more often than I want to admit. One day at a time, or an hour at a time, need be.
Winter is ahead. Maybe that is a good thing. With it comes the cold, of which I am not a fan. Having to layer myself in a coat, scarf, hat, mittens, boots, is much more tiring than throwing on shorts and a teeshirt. I do love my summers. I hope and plan to embrace winter more this coming season; it is better for the health to be up, out, and about meeting people, breathing in crisp, clear, rejuvenating air. Those factors I can control, even if they require more effort and commitment.
I am reminded of the universal serenity prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Those words serve as life guiding posts, for what better attributes to have surrounding control than serenity, courage, and wisdom?
I think I am becoming too much of a homebody. Having to get dressed and ready for a particular time, is far more difficult than simply lazing around in my favourite soft gym pants, or dare I say, pyjamas. At least I can control some things like what I eat, or what I wear. Leisure clothes thrown on the minute we get home from work are far more comfortable and safe.
I know that is a strange word to use in reference to clothing, but since I am speaking of control, or lack thereof, I want to share two personal incidents, that happened over the last six months, similar in their effect. I bawled. Sad I know at my age, but ridicule’s intent, no matter age, is to make another feel small, or unworthy.
It is a warm, inviting spring day. I finish my therapy. My husband and I decide to make a quick stop into a store in Antigonish to look for a few things. My interests are not on building products, but interior design and decorating. I was also interested in paint colours as my husband had recently done some renovating.
Since my fall and subsequent injuries, I have issues with speech fluency. I stutter, stammer, and repeat words. I forget easily and quickly. I am extremely self-conscious of how I sound, and it takes a great deal of effort to speak in front of others, and to process what is being said. That is one of the reasons I do not talk as much as I used to. My husband, or a certain jovial friend I know might say that is a good thing. I am trying to find humour wherever I can. That I can control, most of the time …
Teasing is one thing, but making fun of someone is totally wrong, unacceptable, and should be shunned. Getting a glimpse into how ignorant, rude, or socially inept some people can be has been eye opening, however sad and distressing. When people make fun of you, it hurts.
So I am self-consciously in the store. I muster the courage (it does take courage) to ask for some help.
“Ca-n, ca-n, ca-n you hel, hel, help me fi-, fi-, find some pa-pa-pa-paint?”
“Yes, I can, can, can of-of-fer you, you, you some help.”
Did he just do that? Is he for real? The clerk just blatantly made fun of me. Vermillion blood rushes to my face, and I share in the many, many who face such blatant rudeness on a daily basis; within seconds my face burns, flushed, redder than a new fire truck. I want the floor to reach up, pull me down, and swallow me alive. My hands and feet tingle so enraged am I. I feel very inadequate, inept, low. I want to run, gallop, fly out of that store, but not before the clerk knows the reason why I stutter. I have done nothing wrong, yet I am the one on defence, the one hurt, the one judged.
With a tinge of bitter vinegar, and crumbling confidence I sputter the reason why my words are jumbled. I feel an overwhelming compulsion to explain why I sound as I do. Tears well in my eyes even as I write this. I used to be quite articulate, quite expressive. Hopefully used to be will fade and evaporate into a soon revived – am.
Thankfully most people are not as rude or ignorant when faced with difference, and as far as I know one gender is not more notorious in that regard than the other. Nor would it happen again … would it? Could it?
Unfortunately, a similar experience occurred after a Halifax appointment. While waiting for a prescription, I perchance into a clothing store in Dartmouth Crossing simply to browse. Two attendants are working. The older of the two, who should have been the wiser, asks if I need help. Trusting my response would be graciously received, I ask: “Do, do, do do youuuu ha-ha-have an-an-an-y ba-ba-black ho-ho-ood-ies?”
“Ye, ye, ye, yes ,we, we, we do do do,” she smirks back.
Did she intentionally mimic and make fun of me? Why? Why would someone speak back like that? Tears flood my eyes; blood rushes once again to all extremities. I immediately stop checking the clothes, turn red-faced and embarrassed. My entire body trembling, I take a deep breath in, stare her in the face, anxiously utter.
“Ta-ta-trou-trou-blae sp-sp-peak-ing, b-b-be-cause of a-a-ann in-in-in-jur-jur-y.”
I pull my chest in and up, and mortified abruptly walk out of the store, vowing never to return, the second attendant wide-eyed and shocked at the exchange. If only I were a fly on the wall thereafter. That stinging, slap-in-the-face moment of mockery killed any desire to go elsewhere, or in fact to do anything else. For days I brooded over the lack of empathy, the gall of some people, and my hurt feelings. I licked my wounds, but those negative reactions had, and have me thinking twice about opening my mouth in front of others. Few of us like to be singled out. We react most strongly to that which we are most self-conscious of.
And so my writing has become my lifeline. That I can control, even if it takes more effort and time. I cannot control the words or actions of others, or how they respond, although I can influence them perhaps. No one likes to feel judged. One of the greatest fears people have is to be embarrassed, or made fun of in public, or in front of others. It is a fear that ranks in the top three.
May we be ever mindful of others. May we treat everyone with the dignity and respect deserved. That off my chest, maybe I will be less irritable. I am working on it.
On a separate note: My heart is full as I glance around and see the many, many, many positives floating around, through, and in Cape Breton. After events like the phenomenal Celtic Colours International Festival, and the exciting new opportunity to go up in a helicopter tour, through Celtic Air, we have to admit that great things are happening. We are a strong, steadfast, determined, tenacious people, with a spirit that cannot be rivalled the world over.
Power to all those local, rural entrepreneurs attempting to make a go-of-it. Remain steadfast and cast doubts aside. We are good people – and that is the biggest compliment anyone can get. We smile and offer greetings when meeting each other; we enquire about well-being; we follow up on each other; we care. We honestly, genuinely care. It is not like that in all places of the world. That in itself is a gem, the very reason we live where we do. No wonder our “hearts are in Cape Breton!”
Islanders island wide – pat yourselves proudly on the back for your generosity, hospitality, kindness, and for making our island, home! Continue to believe, promote, and testify to the wholesome, slowed-down, nurturing lifestyle possibilities, the multitudinous gifts and talents that abound from one end of the island to the other, and the all embracing, abundant, full spirit of the people. Always and forever an extremely proud Caper. How we treat others – that we can control. Take care and have a great week. Sincerely, Francene.
