Being Myself

One thing I tried during this weekend with the in-laws was being myself.

I wasn't going to try to be a tame Canadian with perfect manners, speaking in cue, and being extremely polite. I was going to speak as loud as I wanted, be as emotional as I felt like it, as imprudent as I can be at this stage in life, and I wasn't going to feel guilty about it.

I did it.

I decided in advance that being myself was going to freak some people out, and that was going to show how narrow minded they were, not how improper I was.

I did it. And it worked at several levels.

When I feel free to be me, I am at ease, as in not torturing myself with unreasonable demands. I am, therefore, happier, in a better mood, and find it easier to take people I dislike.

For instance, my husband has a cousin who is self-centered with a strong character. She reminds me of the high school beauties/bullies. The sort of gal who expects everyone to adore her and take all the crap she delivers.

So, I was polite with her, but other than that I didn't give her the time of day. Didn't try to start a conversation or befriend her in any way beyond minimum civility. The result is that I am not resentful and dwelling in anger as I was the last time we met. The idea was to send her the message that she had no power to upset me or make me spin my wheels on her account. She probably didn't even notice, but regardless, I feel good about myself, and that's extremely important.

There were also some European relatives who were very hard to talk to. I tried to be cheerful and friendly, but all I got from them was bewildered looks, as in, "You are nuts and we don't care to hear anything you're saying."

I ignored them, too. They came to my house and I greeted them politely, offered them food and beverages, but beyond that, I didn't feel it necessary to hurt myself in the process of entertaining people who don't want to be entertained. They're gone, I don't hate them, and I couldn't care less if I ever see them again.

With the mother-in-law I was friendly but firm. "What are you doing with the bread?" She asked.

"I am spreading it with garlic butter," I answered.
"But when are you going to do it?"
"In a minute."

She walked away from the kitchen. Maybe I was rude, maybe I wasn't. But it was ME for sure, and if she doesn't like me, she can stay the fuck away.

I truly think that the best thing about being middle-aged and pre-menopausal is that, at this point, life has taught me that people are either going to like me or not, regardless of what I do, and that's their problem.