I am a prideful person, not in the traditional way and certainly not in the websters dictionary way. I am prideful in that I will do almost anything to avoid looking like a fool.
This is rather is hilarious because most days I am quick to point out my ridiculous ways, somehow drawing attention to my faults and or OCD-inspired habits is ok but being made a fool by being called on in class and providing the wrong answer? Yea to avoid that I will just stop going to school/college in my mid 20’s, who cares that I don’t know or should not care what others think or what having a degree could do for my future. Stumbling and falling and earning an education, me? No way, it’s too much of a risk, I could look like a fool.
They say “pride comes before the fall” and oh how I fell in the school department.
Pride in friendships looks like a shameful over-the-top dress to cover my insecurities. I twirl in the meringue of a dress, an awful 80’s inspired dress (we’re talking puffy sleeves, cheesy lace, yellow….and not pretty in yellow yellow but stale yellow) ok so the dress image is complete right? 😉 Nobody can talk shit about that dress but for me though…
The fall of said friendships
I had a group of friends in high school, didn’t we all? All of the girls were so different, Diana was the most like me, not just because we were both blondes but we both excelled at laughing about shitty things, whether they be our own idiotic tendencies or life, also we both lived on the poor side of the town I grew up in, everyone else lived on the wealthy side, not they were all wealthy but Diana and I were lower middle class, the rest of the girls were upper for sure.
The group all had their favorites, Nadia and Lindsey, Sharon and Natasha, the group would hang as a whole a lot but there was definitely segregation, more often than not I was left out completely; I recall it bothering me but I never spoke up. They made fun of everyone too, a lot, really awful things that most do not make fun of, like people of special needs.
One time, after a night out, we were all crashing at Nadia and Natashas, I am not sure what happened or why but I recall a few things: they routinely crashed at their apartment after nights out, this was only the 2nd time I had been invited. While initially behind my back I somehow overheard Nadia and Natasha laughing at me for having dirty feet and dirtying the white sheets of the bed Diana and I crashed in. I recall being drunk and crying and gathering all my things to leave after this discovery, I recall looking down at my flip-flops wondering how on earth I could avoid dirtying my feet next time, should I ask to shower?
I felt shame that nobody had told me, that they clearly all laughed about it behind my back previously and it was now a part of the collection of things that they made fun of, me, who takes any sort of mild rejection or criticism so well, me, oh the betrayal! I drove home drunk that night, Lindsay begged me not to go, telling me it was a joke and to come inside but the damage was done, I was hurt. Thank God I made it home safe without hurting anyone or myself. The fall was that eventually all these girls hurt me, shamed me, made fun of too many things; eventually that they became bus boys to me, I abandoned the idea that we could still be ok after these slights. Soon they came and went and then became a part of my past.
The thing about pride is..
For me it is not that I swim in a sea of my achievements, it is that I received little to no positive or negative feedback as a child so receiving either one now is extremely difficult for me; as I have learned the past few years, it is as though the girls impugned my honor. Diana and I still speak from time to time, I tried to reconnect with Lindsay but it fizzled, most likely due to my pride again but I did get a chance to apologize to her and thank her for trying to be a good friend that night, she couldn’t even remember that night, talk about holding on to a frivolous memory too tight.
Being the type of person that can laugh at myself is something I have always prided myself on, but I now know that for too long it was unacceptable to me for anyone else to laugh at me. To recklessly abandon the idea that to be made fun of is not black and white much like labeled being ‘dumb’ or ‘smart’, to be made a fool meant that I was wearing the dunce hat in the back corner of the classroom. Instead of rocking the ugly dress and owning the fact that I am not perfect but I am a damn good person at the same time was a dance I could not dance.
To abandon that part of my past, to bury it and place flowers on a memory that nobody remembers but me, to recklessly push aside this monster of an ego and simply take this seemingly first step. To wipe the slate clean. Step 1…recklessly abandon that honor, that pride, that ego…other steps? Stay tuned..
-B
