I don’t know when I started to notice that people are kind of mean to each other a lot. Probably when I was a little girl and the modus operandi in my family was a sharp tongue full of insult and jab. Something like this:

“Oh! I love horses! They’re so beautiful! I wish I could get one.”

“Like that would ever happen. Horses are too expensive, and you wouldn’t take care of it anyway. Horse. Yeah, right.” Laughter.

Yep. How funny.

When I remember things like this I always feel guilty for thinking of the people I love most in the world with such unkind thinking. Were they really mean to me? Did they really act like I was stupid? Stupid to have big dreams? Ridiculous to think that big things could happen for me? Like getting a horse? Was it a form of protection? Don’t dream too big, you might get hurt. As hurt as both my parents were by their parents who didn’t indulge their dreams either. If you act like something is stupid then no one gets too hurt when it doesn’t come true.

The other day in the woods I had this moment of forgiveness for my father. I realized what a broken heart he must have had from his own childhood. How hard it must have been for him to be open hearted and love someone like me: someone he loved fiercely and with fear because I could hurt him too. How he knew exactly what it felt like to imagine the magic and then see the reality.

I am sensitive to the smart ass way people talk to me. I have a lot of people around me who aren’t able to have polite conversation, they just string together tiny insults and act like that’s communicating. Maybe that’s been me and I’m finally growing out of it.

Once when I was at my naturopath she did guided imagery with me. Afterwards she told me she could tell when I stopped holding up my protected version of me and became myself. The funny thing about that was I could tell, too. I knew exactly what she meant. I can tell all the time when I’m my safe version of myself and when I can feel just like me.

Drinking made it easy to forget that a me existed. It made it easier to put myself out into a world that I felt unsafe and crazy in. It made it easier to hate myself so when people talked to me like I was an idiot I could easily believe it was true. Years of this built a shell that isn’t so easy to slough off even though I really really want to.

It isn’t really so much what you say as how you say it. It’s letting down the I’m so stupid of it all and just being who you really are. It’s knowing that even if the whole world lined up and pointed at you and said “Yeah, right” you can still say to yourself “Yeah. RIGHT.”