I keep having these bad dreams. I decided it was because I have some repressed anger that goes back several years. I mostly dream about the same people, different struggles with them though. It occurred to me that all those times I listened to certain people and turned the other cheek, I probably should’ve been hurling expletives and other stuff, maybe speaking out about my secret desire to burn stuff down and break glass and stuff. I thought about that kind of stuff often but went with the peaceful route. The thing is I wasn’t being really true to myself in doing so. See, it gave me heartburn to stay quiet when I was being belittled and yelled at; I felt it all the way down in my soul, and I thought it would give me satisfaction knowing that I had pleased God well and all, but all I was doing was lying. I pretended to be peaceable. And it still makes me feel like an idiot to this day.
Yes, putting on the new personality is the way we wanna aim our behaviors, but the application of that thing is real tough. Which brings me to my point–we are required to do our personal best to comply with spiritual laws and deal with people accordingly. Nobody can argue that. But where it gets twisted is in doing MY personal best, there are limitations. Follow me on this. Even Jesus is documented as turning over a few tables and saying some heated words once the right buttons were pushed. Man, he let some people know that they were in serious violation–and yet, I’m nowhere near where he was spiritually. See what I’m saying? Stand for something important to you, and don’t let people slide when they push the button and step over the line. That only encourages them to keep sliding and stepping. If it aint right, it aint right.
My ex- used to tell me all the time that I misrepresented myself because I was one way when he met me, then changed up. I finally accept that he was right, although not for the reasons he thinks. In the beginning, his crap was no big deal because I was busy not caring about anything but what I cared about, and dating other people; he did what he wanted. Eventually, when our circumstances changed, and our new roles were established, I responded to some things differently. I felt disrespected, and I told him so in no uncertain terms. Uh new ballgame playa; we are not free agents anymore. We are franchised. Bottom line, the dark side surfaced, and I started letting loose. He said he would prefer physical pain to my psychological torment, but I could never match my physical ability with my mental. Then this voice told me to be nice and leave him with his dignity. I eased up, let him say what he wanted. Where I messed up was trying to be a version of “nice” that was recommended for me. Wrong. I am not that girl, and I fired that counselor. Still a work in progress, though; I can only do MY personal best to let that new personality work within me.
I decided I don’t even wanna be “nice” if it comes with certain allowances. That’s where the heartburn and bad dreams come in. I can’t take any of it back, can’t make it feel better, can’t take a pill for it; what I can do is move forward with new understanding–that I do have limitations, that people within my perimeter must be made aware of them, and that it’s not wrong that I’m not somebody else’s version of nice. This is me. I say good cuss words when I’m mad, I get sarcastic when I’m irritated, I call people names in my head and out loud, and I’m not above using the B word or the N word–interchangeably or apart from each other–to describe those who offend me. I occasionally have the urge to pick up things and throw them in the general direction of an offender too. My favorite fantasy is a weave-snatch fight. Every now and then some broad will test me to the point where I can see myself reaching out for her wig with my left and surprising her with a quick blow to the head with my right before pulling her to the ground and wrapping her up so I can smash her head into the ground. Hey, I said it’s been building for years. But I just took that first step in my therapy. And I have decided to keep a safe distance between me and the people I don’t care much for. I’m praying on that whole thing too. Meanwhile, no more nice girl here; I believe that facade is what keeps bozos approaching me with idiocy and wanting to talk to me too much. If they thought I was a mean cow they probably would just keep it moving. Some days I am. And it’s okay.
From the mind of:
Tonya D. Floyd,
I write these for me; but maybe you can use them some days.