How We See Ourselves

 

               How We See Ourselves

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Every time I thought of my cousin, who had just had heart surgery, I found myself angry. I mean spitting angry, upset, because it seemed the man was not taking care of himself, was ignoring the sensible cautions, being a he-man gorilla, invincible.

Finally, after a full couple of weeks of growling, I asked myself, “Why so angry?”

Well, that question stopped me in my tracks. After some deep digging through my own rubble heap of rationalizations, I realized that I was afraid. I don’t want to lose my cousin. We all go sometime, but, please, not to foolishness, not when a little care might mean years of good life.

You know what? My cousin’s decisions are none of my business. I can care and do care. But maybe my cousin has his reasons. I realized that my anger was a cover for grieving.

I was reminded of my feeble attempts half my lifetime ago to present myself as always calm, serene, at peace. I wanted others to see me in this perfect picture but even more, this is the way I wanted to see myself. I was devouring self-help books back then, one after another. Ommm.

The truth was that I was a mere breath away from a panic attack most of that time. I was trying to cover up, to bury my real feelings. I was a right wringing mess.

A perceptive doctor, a good counselor and a circle of friends not afraid to laugh at me and with me pulled me through that foolishness. Not overnight, mind you. It took years. Obviously, I’m not done yet.

I pretty much no longer care how other people view me. Pretty much. I do care that I view myself with honesty, no matter what. That pretty, perfect picture I used to dream flew out the door long ago. You might have seen my shadow fly over!

Over the years I’ve learned we seldom see ourselves as others see us. Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hunter, I do remember the poem. I always loved Robert Burns. He had a sense of humor.

“O, wad some Power the giftie gie us

To see oursels as others see us!

It wad frae monie a blunder free us,

An’ foolish notion.”

This last year particularly, I have lost too many good and true friends.

Grief. Anger. Self pity. Tears. Shocking language. Along with compassion and love. I wear it all, for anybody to see, to hear.

So, yes, I’ve lost a lot of friends. But, mercy me, look at the friends around me. They still love me or at least, tolerate me.

Just yesterday Jim came over to hang doors on my kitchen cupboard. I waited and waited and waited for the young local workman to do it when finally I realized he was being Mexican polite, saying yes, not to offend me, putting me last on his “maybe” list.

Jim shooed me out onto the patio, out of his way and got to work. Within an hour I had the rare chance to ask, “How they hangin’, Jim?”

Today John and Carol are coming over, bringing a pot of bean soup. They want to visit before taking off for Pacific beaches. I’ll make a salad. Michelle and Ana from next door will bring tortillas and some other delight.

Tomorrow, Kathy and I are going to explore some of the wee grocery stores here in Oconahua. She and I have long history and experience for making fun with mundane chores. I simply want to know what I can get here and what I need to put on my list for Etzatlan.

I hate to run off but I need to sweep the leaves off the patio and set the table. See you next week, my most tolerant friends.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

January 16, 2025

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________