I used to think it was because of how I was treated in high school that made me hate people. That has something to do with it, but I am starting to realize I hate people because they're awful.
By people, I am talking specifically about mean, stupid people. And usually mean people are stupid and stupid people are mean.
Does the stupid make them mean? Not sure. I've encountered below-average intelligence people who were delightful. Perhaps the ones who are stupid by choice... those are the mean ones.
Yesterday, with some help from a co-worker, I finally busted a story tipster in a massive lie. Biggest lie I've ever heard in the newsroom. And it was a lie told about something tragic that affected thousands of people. That makes it even worse. I've had a gut feeling since May that the story wasn't true and to have two sources this week verify that I was right felt quite nice. Renewed my trust in my own instincts.
Today someone called the magazine all pissed off because we keep addresses on file. Dead serious. He didn't think we should do that. Never thought I would have to explain to someone that we need to keep their address so we can mail the magazine to which they've subscribed. Is there some magic delivery service I don't know about? Psychic Unicorn Express will bring your mail to you without having to know your address?
When my in-laws called this afternoon with an invitation to sushi, that temporarily lifted my foul misanthropic fog. They suggested my favorite place, too. Bonus!
Tonight they were running 10 minutes late but I parked and went inside anyway. Not long after I sat down, a couple was seated at the booth across from me. And they didn't even try to disguise their staring. There are people in this world, in my town even, who look more unusual than I do. So why the hell am I always getting the up-down eyes? The staring was followed by whispering, more staring, more whispering then laughter. I pretended not to notice, keeping busy with my phone. Telling myself they're talking about something else, not me. Stop being paranoid. I busied myself texting Mr. Buffie and fiddling with chop sticks.
Once my in-laws arrived, the couple then broke out in hand gestures, confirming my suspicion. The woman was trying to determine how big my chest was in relation to her own frame, looking at me and adjusting the length of her arms held out in front of her. I continued to pretend I didn't notice. My father-in-law was telling me about genetically engineered soybean crops... I think. At that point, I was lost in my own head, angry, frustrated, desperate to escape.
It's funny because earlier today I read an article about restaurants who adopt a no-kids policy. It reminded me of a few specific situations where I was dining out and was verbally harassed by groups of teens. It has even happened with older people but it's usually teens. Why are teenagers so hateful? Was the teenage Buffie that hateful? I had opinions about people at that age, but I don't ever recall making unprovoked statements to strangers in public. Never had the urge to do anything horrible to someone unprovoked, I don't think.
In a way it was cosmic to read that story then relive something I've experienced so many times before. Those experiences are always the first thoughts that flash through my mind at the mention of going out in public.
I was probably born predisposed to have anxiety or agoraphobia. My mum tells me I was about 3 years old when she noticed I had an abnormal aversion to strangers. Bullying and fat-hate exacerbated it and here we are.
People can't be changed. You can't turn a mean stranger into a nice one anymore than a mean stranger can turn me into a thin person by insulting me.
But what do I do? Continue to endure it? That doesn't seem reasonable. I don't know what to do.
All I know is the more I'm exposed to the general public, the more I only want to be around my family and friends or go only to certain places where I haven't had a scary experience.
Mr. Buffie, bless him, he has spoken up for me before and I truly appreciate it. It was probably nine years ago that we were having lunch at Braum's when a table full of late-teen/early-twenties boys were having an obvious laugh about my body. At some point, they were even talking (yelling) directly to me. As per my M.O., I ignored them. Mr. Buffie walked over to their table and hit it with his fist. That got their attention. Then he politely told them to stop. Know what happened? They threatened him. You know, the typical "how DARE you NOT sit there and tolerate my bullshit" bully attitude. Ultimately they did leave without incident but for a moment, I was sure we were going to be physically assaulted. So in addition to a couple other failed attempts to speak up, speaking up isn't looking like a practical solution either.
Sometimes I wonder if this rules my life. I've blogged about it... a lot. But it's because it affects me... a lot. Maybe saying it rules me is too extreme. However I can't deny that it does cause problems for me AND Mr. Buffie on a much-too-regular basis.
I want to be adventurous and spontaneous and experience new things but my anxiety swallows me whole.
Therapy helps. When I have slacked off on treatment, the anxiety becomes remarkably worse. So I know continuing to see the psychiatrist is the right thing to do.
I'm just not sure it's enough. I have this goal, maybe a dream, that in the future I'll be fearless. The problem with my dream is that I forget to include hate in my vision.
Thankfully, I'm happy in my own skin. Life is good... better than good. Life is great! My family is incredible. My friends are the best examples of humanity ever in history, no exaggeration. I have kitty cats. Even my job would be absolutely perfect if it weren't for dealing with strangers. Then there are the material things, so many wonderful things. I'm thankful for all of my possessions although they don't matter one fraction as much as family, friends and kitties. Basically my needs are not only met but exceeded. I live a fortunate life and I know it.
Hrmph. It's a puzzle I can't solve on my own.
Mostly, I just don't want to hate the world anymore.
Buffie, sorry you have to deal with idiots. I almost think there are far more elderly idiots than teen idiots, and the elderly ones are even harder to figure out. They've made it to 70+ and they haven't progressed beyond petty hatred?
ReplyDeleteI suspect they're just bitter.
In any event, idiots young and old are annoying. I do wish to suggest that you no longer ignore them. I prefer the stare back method. Even the rudest of the rude get uncomfortable with direct eye contact. Blankly stare and stare until they stop. If it helps, pity them while doing it. They're obviously damaged, so this pity won't be hard to find. Finally, if they're teenagers, and they have an open chair, join them. Don't say anything. Just sit with them, and stare. They'll say stupid stuff, but who cares? They're damaged idiots, and your goal is to return the uncomfort.