I went out with a couple of close friends on Friday night, we went to the pub to listen my girlfriend’s husband play some groovy tunes and have a giggle. We somehow got to talking about some of the outrageous things we’ve done in our lifetime, mostly as teenagers (which may or may not have required police intervention). Things that showed a bit of a wild side and were largely harmless.
Holding crazy parties whilst the folks are out of town- requiring some home renovation prior to their return, stealing (aka “borrowing”) the parents car when the guilty party was not licensed to drive, flashing some creepy guy who had taken great pleasure of over the previous months in making the girl in question feel uncomfortable on a regular basis.
Then they all turned to me and asked the inevitable “what about you? What have you done that was a little risqué or outrageous?”
The silence was deafening (well, we were in a pub so it wasn’t exactly silent but it was close to deafening). Look, I was not the coolest teenager, I didn’t rebel, I didn’t argue with my parents, I didn’t try to run away from home, I may have at one point attempted to start smoking but I hated it so much I really didn’t get far past my first puff. I didn’t do anything. I went to school and then I went home. I studied, I walked my dog, I trained my horse, I came home by curfew. I was a good girl.
It wasn’t that I was desperately trying to be good, I just never had an interest in things that I knew were a) likely to be bad for me, or b) were likely to cause unrest at home- because I really couldn’t be bothered dealing with the punishment for doing something which didn’t interest me in the first place.
I largely wasn’t a slave to peer pressure. Whilst there were days that I thought it would be easier as a teenager to fit in a bit better and be part of the “cool” crowd, I also wondered whether it was worth it- I mean to always be looking over your shoulder and wondering who was next in line to topple you from your perch in the “popular” tree. I figured being so noticeable was more likely to require more effort than it was worth. I wasn’t really deemed one of the uncool kids either, I wasn’t bullied, I wasn’t ostracized (for which I was thankful). I was one of those teenagers who slips through highschool and uni under the radar. I was invisible.
Sailing under the radar requires one to shrug off certain undesirable behaviours of others. It requires one to be calm, to allow one’s head to rule the heart, to have understanding- realising that sometimes though words and actions of others can be hurtful, they perhaps dont intend them to be so- and it requires some faith in Karma such that if a hurtful act is intended, then punishment it to be left to the higher power and we should just let it slide.
As an adult I am finding more and more that I’m less inclined to put up with some behaviours that I once was willing to overlook or accept.
But I am starting to realise that I can be a bit of a pushover in my relationships.
I am willing to put up with far more than I imagine I am. In my mind I am strong willed, confident and independent, and in some ways I am. I am gaining confidence daily at work, I am putting myself forward a bit more, being proactive and getting myself involved in things rather than waiting to be invited. I am being heard.
So why is it so difficult to make myself be heard when I have a significant other in my life?
A fellow blogger asked of their readers recently, “what do you want?”
I want to be worshipped as I worship;
I want to meet in the middle;
I want to create a home;
I want to live in a delicious bubble with a man I love where the outside world blurs and we are the only ones who matter;
I want to be bad (in a non-criminal way);
I want to be the most popular person in my most adored person’s eyes;
I want to experience again an all-consuming love that abolishes any fear of the unknown;
I want to be good;
I want to be visible;
I want to be outrageous;
I want to shine;
I want to belong.
I want a lot.
And I will have it all. One day.
Just not today.