I often think of myself as a likable person. On a scale of self acceptance to delusion, I come off okay; somewhere in-between, with just enough fire to sell my anger and enough ice to calm my nerves. Each day finds me travelling through life with a calculated smile, one that climbs out from my lips and reaches my eyes. Although sometimes my temperament gets the better part of me, more often than not, I am polite and nice. Yet this has not stopped people from claiming to hate me. I hope this picture is as plain as I have tried to paint it because I am essentially saying that I am a shy, cheery, polite female, but I still have a good number of ‘enemies’ and this is perfectly okay.
I use the word ‘enemies’ here in a particular sense because it’s quite easy to lump up haters with people who bestow you with casual indifference. Or those who, try as you may, refuse to acknowledge or approve anything you are remotely affiliated with. The enemies I speak of are those who actively participate in your derision.
They are not off in some distant reality living their busy lives and generally minding their business. Instead, they hover around, almost noiselessly, snooping through your privacy, holding each breath and waiting for a single misstep, one wrong word or action before they come swooping down like vultures.
Okay, this might be a little exaggerated due to my leaning toward theatrics but I assure you, it is not paranoia. It is not me looking over my shoulders for a stray suspect on whom I can pin all of my problems. There are simply people in your life who, like it or not, or whether provoked or not, will never see eye to eye with you. And like I said, it is perfectly okay.
I started thinking of all this some time ago in the corner of my quiet, detached life. It seemed as if the more I simplified my life, the stronger it grew in its distaste to some people. The more I tried to treat some persons right, the more certain others fished for controversy and hidden intent and, the more I tried to recline into my sheltered existence, the more I was pulled out with lies and accusations.
One time I was even told by a former boss that there was nothing I could do to make her stop hating me.
*cue in laughter*
I will be honest, back then I tried to change her mind, not because I was hungry for validation but because there is something awfully defeating about an adult who is not able to resolve their anger towards another and move on from it. I believe at best we should live our lives as indifferent and detached from people as we can manage, but to invest your time and energy in the active hatred of any person has never seemed logical. But that’s just me; I don’t expect the whole world to be commonsensical.
Anyway, very recently, another grown man found his way to my ‘don’t care why you hate me list.’ But what made me decide to write about this was a conversation I had with another friend who felt it was my responsibility to settle any negativity directed at me. We had started the conversation quite lightheartedly, speaking about egos and animatedly replaying a scenario where a man had told a crippling lie about me to my face. However, as the conversation continued, his concern, earlier neatly contained began to seep out until it became a wall between us. What started off as a friendly jest soon sounded like fatherly warning. Sadly, I did not get his point of view, nor did I want to.
I have stubbornly refused to buy into the idea that I am responsible for the way people react towards me or the more morbid expectation that making peace with irrational and non-objective adults is a cross I have to bear.
However, the truth which I have silently nursed for years is that it pleases me, in a strange and almost shameful way when a person decides they will try to rattle me by their sudden animosity. I like the detachment of not caring for my enemies, and the entertainment that comes from watching people make a production from your perceived offences – especially when I have not gone out of my way to wrong them.
I also like how it helps me stay on track. Nothing drives my sense of loyalty to those who care for and respect me than knowing that these relationships are something life has blessed me with. Making enemies is necessary because it helps me see my friends in the true light of their wonder and kindness and generosity.
And most importantly, it makes me grateful to know that I can rise and thrive in spite of the naysayers. We all can, and we all should.
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