Sticks and stones will break your bones
\nbut names will never hurt you<\/p>\n
…that’s a crock of bull…Names are extremely painful. All kinds of words can conspire to hit you in the middle and throb.<\/p>\n
Each person has a sense of themselves. I am not the only one to have a way that I wish to be seen, a presentation of myself projected to others. I want to be seen as clever, or funny, or good-looking. All three even.<\/p>\n
But when others poke a hole in my bubble, when they dash my polished surface. They could show me up as stupid. Or not laugh at my jokes. Or something much more embarrassing.<\/p>\n
Something that makes me feel like everything about me is undesirable and even despised.<\/p>\n
Uhhll. That’s a horrible feeling.<\/p>\n
I want to be loved. I want to be accepted and cherished.<\/p>\n
That doesn’t always happen. There are times when I am very NOT.<\/p>\n
It’s ironic, because I know that I am not always desirable and lovable. I live with me every day. I know my flaws.<\/p>\n
Then again, it is especially painful when I hear from others about a flaw I was unaware of. How withering to learn that they outfit I thought so cute has a big hole in it. Or the speech habit I thought endearing was percieved as condescending.<\/p>\n
It’s a sick, skin-crawling self-loathing feeling. It’s the sort of feeling I want to be rid of as soon as possible, but it lingers.<\/p>\n
I remember one particular embarrassing moment. I was in a new town, and had been embraced in a new friendship–possibly romantic!–which was all the more exciting because there was no one else vying for my attention.<\/p>\n
He had loaned me his guitar, a great trust, and told me where he lived so I could return it after a while.<\/p>\n
It seemed appropriate to me to bring it back after a few weeks. Still warm from his attention, and not wanted the friendship to fade away, I followed the directions he had given me to his apartment, where his lived with his family. I brought the guitar back, hoping for a little visit.<\/p>\n
I came to the door and was greeted with a wall of hostility. His sister left me in the hall, and went to get her brother. He took his time. When he finally came out he asked why I had come.<\/p>\n
To return the guitar.<\/p>\n
He looked down at the guitar and took it from me at last. Then he said I should not have come.<\/p>\n
I left as soon as I could. I was mortified. I felt like a bug that narrowly escaped death, only because I would have soiled the shoes it would take to squish me.<\/p>\n
I was reeling. I wanted to find some comfort somewhere. But I had no one I could go to. I wanted to have some friend–someone!–tell me, “hey, don’t listen to them. You’re okay.”<\/p>\n
But I was new to the town, and I had no way of communicating with any of my old friends. It was all me. And I felt like a pimple on the butt of the world.<\/p>\n
That part of me that stays on the side tried to think of something. Some way to comfort myself. I began to realize that the thing that was hurting was my pride.<\/p>\n
What is Pride? “… it’s not a hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man…”<\/p>\n
And yet it can be hurt. Was it important? or was this pain like the hiccups, something uncomfortable that was not serious and would pass?<\/p>\n
Pride…Pride is the original sin. Lucifer was proud and he screwed everything up.<\/p>\n
In that case, pride SHOULD be hurt. Pride should be ignored, torn down, attacked. It was a good thing to have my pride damaged. I should be humble, not proud.<\/p>\n
And yet…There is another meaning of pride. Pride in opposition to shame. I will not be ashamed. If I am ashamed, it means I have done something wrong. Something shameful.<\/p>\n
But if I am proud, I am proud of myself, I am living right. I should strive to be proud of my work. I should preserve my pride.<\/p>\n
How can this be? Two things that mean the opposite.<\/p>\n
Here is how I have determined the difference:<\/p>\n
For the false, destructive pride, the source comes from external things. If I am proud of what I did not create, what I did not work for, then this is false. If I take pride in my appearance, my status or how people regard me, then that’s wrong.<\/p>\n
But if the source of my pride comes from my own work, and the affirmation comes from myself, then it is good pride. Yes, I should work hard and take pride in my work. I should be careful to be honest and have integrity. I can be proud of that integrity, but my pride can be an internal affirmation. I don’t need to broadcast my good deeds, it is enough to know them myself.<\/p>\n
A shameful pride would be trumpeted and draw from other peoples’ opinion.<\/p>\n
But a humble pride would be quiet and only need affirmation from oneself.<\/p>\n
That is basically the litmus test. And it places my pride, my self-worth, inside my sphere of control. I don’t need anyone else’s opinions to know.<\/p>\n
I can hold my own with pride.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sticks and stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you …that’s a crock of bull…Names are extremely painful. All kinds of words can conspire to hit you in the middle and throb. Each person has a sense … Continue reading