November 4, 2009
Doormats (or The State of Which)
I was the quiet kid in the back of the class. I was the girl who never winked at a boy. I was the lady who wore the conciliatory nature as though it were virtue. It's not.
I'm a woman now, however fervently my height disagrees. I've done the self-examination thing to the point of boredom. There's much we don't realize about ourselves and more that we do. Often what we don't like within ourselves becomes a sweep-under-the-rug nuisance. Change is and always shall be counter to our instinct. Most humans dwell in that forest of the status quo.
In these questing years, I've come to understand a little of how others view me. I'm the doormat. It's a useful invention, really. We all have one and those that don't mourn its lack. Who doesn't want visitors to wipe their feet? I have lived a wiped feet existence. Oh, not in every aspect, but in the ones that count (meaning the personal matters) I have to shake off the dirt they track in.
Not my family, naturally. No, it's the ones who share no blood with me that seem to see that as an excuse to trample on me. Why? Because I've always let them. And when that brilliant self-examination is through, I see a person within who hates confrontation and wishes to upset no one. So essentially, I'm too nice. Which must explain why I'm still single.
I intended to say something to someone at some time today, a cutting dissection of how I am being treated and how I demand it cease. And let me tell you, I rehearsed all day. It didn't happen. Because though I had the words, I failed to summon the appropriate moxie. I have reached the point of anxiety and cannot open my mouth properly. I want to spare feelings, everyone's except my own.
There's a point when even the most conciliatory person must stand their ground. The one I must correct thinks that I can't do it, can't say it to their face because I'm the quiet kid in the back. I long to prove them wrong. I need to. Because I'm still a person, no matter how short or nice or anxious. I can be conscious of others' feelings while still voicing mine. This is America, folks. I have rights.
So I will get up off the floor, dust myself off and kiss off the status quo.