The Gift of Grace
Or, can you believe I used to be a raging B?
Hey. Good to see you again.
Mixed results last week on the poll about splitting the newsletter. Lots of folks said “good idea,” but almost as many said “bad idea.” I hope you’ll bear with me while I experiment a little. We’ll try the split for February and see how y’all feel about it after experiencing it. I’m not married to one format or the other—I just want the work to be digestible to you, and the Wednesday edition has begun feeling like an unwieldy FrankenNote.
So: Today, essay. Friday, your quick dose of EEE. Eager to see how it goes.
The Gift of Grace
Whenever the Alicia Keys song, “If I Ain’t Got You,” comes on, I am back on a school bus in South Central Los Angles in 2004. For five weeks that summer, I suffered through the nauseating lurch of L.A. traffic on the way to teacher training each morning, the sound of Alicia’s voice from the tinny speakers only emphasizing the urge to claw my skin off.
Everything from that summer feels dim in hindsight, crumpled and marred by my emotional state at the time. I’d moved across the country, my relationship’s future was uncertain, and I was failing spectacularly at work every day. I didn’t have much self-awareness back then, and I had no idea how unstable I was. But looking back, I can still touch the fragility of those days.
You wouldn’t have known it by looking at me; I’m blessed with an anxiety that mirrors how I look any other time. And the darkness didn’t stop me from doing my job (albeit poorly) or from going out with my new colleagues on evenings and weekends. I even made some friends—mostly the captive ones, the women who ended up being my roommates when we were ready to move to the Bay Area and begin our assignments.
(Ready! Ha! I certainly wasn’t ready and continued to fail at my job for at least a year. But there I was, acting like I knew what I was doing.)
Not too long ago, I was talking with my friend, Jen, who I allegedly met during those L.A. days. “I thought you hated me back then,” she said.
“You were there?” I said. This is a person my kids call “Auntie Jenny,” who was a bridesmaid at my wedding, and I had no memory of even meeting her.
I was so deep in my feelings, without even realizing it, that I took it out on Jen and all the other people who crossed my path during that time. Babies on airplanes were an inconvenience. People who took too long to go after the light turned green were ICAN’TBELIEVETHISIDIOTs. Little kids were already irritating enough—but God forbid they bump into me or put their little fingers on my parked car. My energy was so eaten up by being anxious and angry that I had absolutely no chill.
I’ve done a lot of work over the last 20 years to develop the self-awareness and empathy I was so lacking back then, and my attitude has changed—so much that I think most people who know me today can’t believe I have the capacity to be the person I described above.
Now, I’m that lady who plays peekaboo with the little kids in the grocery line. The one who makes eye contact, smiles, and even has conversations with people at the post office. (Short conversations, people! I’m still always in a hurry!) And you know what? I’m happier because of it. Engaging positively with the people around me is a lot more fun and fulfilling than being hyper-reactive.
I can smile and wink at the little kids who bump me in the course of running around and having fun being kids. I can hold the door for the grouchy guy at the grocery store instead of letting it drop on him. I can meet people with curiosity instead of disdain when they do or say something I don’t like or understand.
And I can give some grace to the 22-year-old who is being extra bitchy and inconvenienced by everything, because I know it’s no fun feeling the way she does.
A little kindness never hurts. Can you give the gift of grace to the people you come across this week?
I’ll see you for a quick dose of EEEntertainment on Friday.
