Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 152

You guys,

“It’s not what you said, it’s the way you said it.” 

When Sam and I argue, this is his common complaint. I’m always flabbergasted because often I think I’m saying something nice. 

I took a Saboteur Assessment to help pinpoint which of the 10 internal enemies I struggle with most. Controller, characterized by “in-your-face communication interpreted by others as anger or criticism,” was at the top of my list.

On a Write of Passage Zoom call last week, we did an exercise where we read an essay and picked out the shiny dime. Everyone shared in the chat what we thought the shiny dime was. There were many different answers. Some similar, some not. The host of the call and the writer of the essay both commented to say we were all correct.

I raised my hand and in true Controller (Charlie?) fashion, said, “We can’t all be right.” 

On the one hand, I love myself for saying what I was thinking. We can’t all be right. Then I thought of my arguments with Sam. There’s a way to say things without being so gosh darn aggressive and confrontational. 

The Controller in me wants to be strong and bold and really doesn’t want to be taken advantage of. She is afraid of looking stupid, so whenever she’s actually confident about something she asserts her opinion as if it’s the only way.  

But I can be strong and bold without being hostile. I can raise my hand and say, “You said we were all right, but there were various answers in the chat. Is there any nuance with the interpretation of the shiny dime?” 

Wow, even writing that was difficult. As if asking a question in a non-confrontational way is weak or boring. As if I’m not being myself, since I identify so strongly as being fiery and punchy and opinionated. 

But is that really what I want to be known for? 

I don’t think so. It’s fine to be described as fiery, punchy, and opinionated, but I don’t stand for those things. I stand for authenticity, creativity, fun, and growth. 

Growth. If I want to grow as a person I have to at least try to let go of my controller tendencies. It might feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience but who knows? Maybe it will feel really good. 

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Hyper Vigilant

I stand washing dishes at the kitchen sink and stare mindlessly out the window. 

Then I see him, my ex-boyfriend, lurking in the shadows of our backyard. He carries a rifle. He looks nonplussed, as if what he’s about to do is an errand. Something to check off his to-do list. The nonchalance makes him look terrifying. 

I spot my phone on the counter, grab it, and duck behind the sink. I scream for Sam. He’s upstairs with both our babies. I try to figure out next steps. Do I run upstairs? Do I tell Sam to grab the kids and run down? Do I call the police first or one of our neighbors? 

This scenario with my ex is outlandish and extreme. And yet, I imagine it frequently. 

Tied with Controller on my Saboteur Assessment was Hyper Vigilant, described as “continuous intense anxiety about all the dangers and what could go wrong.”

I suppose it’s improbable for a plane to come zooming down from the sky and crash into my car while George and Layla are strapped into their carseats. Maybe I don’t need to peek my head behind the shower curtain every time I go into the bathroom. It probably doesn’t do me any good to lie awake in bed at night and picture George sprinting into the street and getting hit by one of the neighborhood kids speeding around in their parents’ stupid golf cart.

But I think these thoughts all the time. Why? Why am I hyper vigilant? 

There must be more of an explanation than my years of being obsessed with true crime, when I devoured the first 77 episodes of Sword and Scale and gobbled up the Dirty John podcast and Netflix series and wondered why I had nightmares every night. 

I appreciate my hypervigilance for reminding me how lucky I am for my life and my loved ones. But I’d rather announce something I’m grateful for at the dinner table than feel scared, physically exhausted, and mentally drained. 

I don’t know why I included the links to all the scary stuff I used to consume because you should definitely not click on them unless you’re cool with being afraid of the dark and checking underneath your bed for intruders who would obviously hide under your bed if they were in your house. 

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Until next week,

Charlie