With age and wisdom comes freedom and – intolerance?

 

With age and wisdom comes freedom and intolerance?

When I was in my teens I was very unsure of myself. Outwardly, I may have appeared self-confident, I had an almost brash attitude but it hid a turmoil most teens have to go through almost as a rite of passage.   It is the same struggle most of us go through. I was not unique or different; I was simply growing up. During those years however, I ‘accepted’ much more than I do today. Now in my forties, I have at last ‘grown in’ to my personality, become comfortable in my own skin, in a way that had someone told my teenage self it would happen, I would simply have laughed out loud at the idea. My self worth was measured back then by who my friends were, where I came in a group setting, how others viewed me and lastly it was how I viewed myself. As a result, I, in a way, became many things to many people, and not the same to all. I morphed into what I thought others would accept, or like to see, or the type of person others would like to be around. As a result, I was not true to myself, or the person I could be. It was only years later after I had lived a certain amount of life that I realized to be true to myself, to simply be me is much more potent to others than any facade I could reveal as my ‘self’ that was not a true picture of who I was.

But what that delay also did was leave me surrounded by very strong people with very strong personalities who somehow subdued mine. I became a follower of sorts: not an equal, not what I wanted to be. I wanted to be seen as ‘as important’ as they valued themselves. I put up with a mode of behavior that at times tried to stifle my developing individuality. When I grew strong enough, when I came into myself; that is when some of the friendships fell apart.

The fact that they did is testament to them, to who they were and how they wanted me to act around them and not an indication of any true weakness on my part. But it took a long time for me to realize that, thinking instead that the ‘lacking’ was actually in me. I do put that error in judgment down to my bi-polar. Because irrespective of who you are, when you struggle with ongoing depression, you do lose yourself at times along with your sense of worth and true distinctiveness. I suppose you can say that depression in a way is the ultimate black hole for egotism. Self -importance is converted into the ultimate humility when facing down the apparent eternal blackness of depression. But when someone is not feeling their best (irrespective of any disorders), they can be more easily manipulated than if they were fully themselves. Perhaps I should say I can be more easily led, more easily influenced, as I can only ever speak for myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my life and found love with someone I adore and who adores me. But when my first child was born, I developed post-natal symdrome and then bi-polar depression that has lasted for years. (I’ve not been sick constantly for years, it is a recurring illness with drastic highs and plummeting lows.) Though medication and a huge amount of self awareness helps, I can safely say it has landed me back at square one a number of times. It made me very unsure of myself and those who surrounded me at times, and at times I let them lead; leading me to places I would not have gone willingly were I of ‘sound mind’. I know that when I sit down to write anything my depression always gets a mention, but to be honest, it does permeate my life even when I am well. I second-guess everything I do: am I on a high today? Would I do or say this normally? Do I feel manic, am I spending too much money, am I being thoughtless or too thoughtful? Am I letting my life slip by without ever really enjoying it? I think when you have suffered depression, you learn to take what comes when it comes and be grateful for what you have, what you are and who you are at ‘that particular moment’. If I was to wait till I am well to ever do or say anything, I’d be left waiting…. And so would everyone else in my life.

But to get back to the ‘friends’. Those who have very strong personalities are the ones I now tend to gravitate towards. Those are the people I am really interested in, who have lived their lives well despite any adversity or cruelty they have lived through. What makes people interesting to me is their foibles; perhaps I recognize myself in them somehow. Perhaps admiring their strength irrespective of that hardship is my way of recognizing that the more interesting a person is to me equates with the more difficult their life has been to this point and I recognize that they have lived through it, come out the other side and are still saying “Hey world… look at me….” I can say that now, because I’ve lived twenty years of my adult life and enjoy the wisdom that comes from the very living of those years. I enjoy the fact I don’t have to look in the mirror and care what anyone else thinks! I can have clothes for ‘fat days’ and clothes for ‘not so fat days’, I can do my hair or leave it tossed, I can wear make up or not! I can do what I feel I want to do and not have to worry about how that will make me seem to other people. I have reached the stage in my life where if I am not of value to someone else for ME, then they are not worth my time. Because all they will ever get now is the real me.

I’m not a shadow any more, I’m not a ‘one size fits all friendships’ any more. I value people for who they are and I don’t like ‘show’ for show’s sake; show me who you really are or get lost! I’m not interested in a façade, it holds no meaning for me, I’m not interested in someone telling me I look wonderful when I know I don’t. I’m not interested in hearing half-truths – tell me the truth or don’t talk to me. It is this part of me that feels I am becoming intolerant the older I get. I don’t suffer fools well. I don’t like mommy figures, thanks I have my own. I don’t like bullies, I don’t like people who hurt others just because they can and I don’t react well to being told what to do – I think I’ve earned the right to do as I please responsibly (within reason) so long as I am not hurting someone or myself deliberately. I no longer look at others my age and wish I were them, or looked like them, or had their ‘stuff’. I am content in my life, with my life and who I have now become. That comfort in my own skin is very liberating and I think makes me a more interesting person than who I was twenty years ago. It gives me a freedom to be the me I always wanted me to be. But it also make me intolerant of those who can’t be true to themselves. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing!