Balance Beam.

I don’t know how many of you venture over to the blog Breed ‘Em and Weep, but if you don’t, I highly recommend you take a minute and swing over to the lovely Jenn’s site.

Go on, you can go right now if you want. I’ll wait.

Earlier this week she wrote this – “I am still a watcher and a listener. Being an adult now, or some facsimile thereof, I have honed in on myself, as well as the now-my-size people. I am wary of both….I can see you are trying hard and that touches me. Effort goes a long way in my book. You’re appreciated here. I won’t get mad. I don’t do mad, not real mad at least. I go directly to sad – Do not pass go, Do not collect the satisfaction of a good loud fight that clears the air…”

I’ve told you all this before, but I’ll tell you again. I’m not a fighter. And by that I mean the argumentative type of fighter. If I believe in something, then I am without a doubt a fighter - I do not give up easily. Still, all of my life – even unintentionally a lot of the time - I’ve worked to keep things placid among my friends, my family, my school teachers, even among the many pets we had growing up. I don’t think I plan to do it but a lot of times I find myself staying two steps ahead of people to avoid arguments and confrontation. I do not seem to possess an angry gene. Instead, what I lack in anger I make up for in 100% pure, raw, emotional well, STUFF in my head. That and I get sad.

I get so sad and disappointed when people (people I thought better of and trusted and let in to my heart!) don’t treat me right and - forget me for a minute – enough about me already! – I hate it when other people don’t treat each other right. I know that’s the way this world goes ‘round and people have been hurting one another since the dawn of man, survival of the fittest, etc. etc. but come on now. WHY? Without sounding trite and cliché why can’t we all just get along?

In the past few months I’ve retreated from the world a bit. I’ve been occupied trying on the roles of (in no particular order) the wounded, the wronged, the fighter, and the who-needs-em-anyway girl.

But I am none of those girls.

I have my faults and I am by no means a saint but if there’s one thing I always, always give it’s my heart. As stupid as the rest of me thinks that is, it is what it is and it’s who I am. And really, who am I to argue with how I’m wired anyhow?

I connect with people. I care about people. There are several people in my life that I would do anything in the world for. I’m not a close up the shop girl. I’m a my door is always open so come on in girl. I like that welcome anytime, call me at 3am if you need to girl. She’s a sweetheart. She’s good people. Yeah, I like her an awful lot actually.

Yesterday a new-found friend and I went to lunch. We have known one another for awhile actually but up until recently haven’t really gotten to know one another beyond the co-worker friendship full of polite hellos and water cooler gossip. Over a salad wrap he mentioned (in a much more polite way than what I am paraphrasing here) that he had me pegged wrong. That he thought I was this sweet, kind, caring, sensitive girl but lately all he knew was a bitter, tense, defensive, and well, bitchy side of me. (And for the record, I’m adding the bitchy part. Like I said, he was MUCH more eloquent than what I’ve just written.)

But still. Oh my gosh. Regardless of how it was said, the point was what I heard. And the point I heard was that holy-cow I am not myself. And this new self is not so cool. People don’t even like her! Hell, I don’t even like her! What sort of walls have I built? What shell am I hiding under? Having a thick skin will do me no good if I loose who I am underneath that skin.

So here’s the million dollar question. How do I find a balance? I want to run into the world with my heart and arms wide open but at the same time I want to be able to dust myself off after the inevitable falls with nary a thought. In the words of Jenn at Breed ‘Em and Weep I want to keep my palms open. If only it were as easy as it sounds.

After all, we only get one go-round on this life ride. I want to make mine count.