The Silver Lining

There was more work strife today, as more complaints poured in regarding that friend I hired over the holidays. It's tough when I have lived in a way that railed against the sentiment: "It's not personal, it's business." But as with all clichés – they have been coined for a reason.

The truth is, it's both... It's a small business that is very personal. When someone monkeys with that system, it hits people's heartstrings in a way that we could never predict, which in turn hits our wallets in a way we'd never want to imagine. All of this say: I am bummed that someone I considered a friend couldn't even manage the bare minimum of the job responsibilities we repeatedly spelled out for her. I am not only disappointed, but pissed that this friend bit the hand that fed her so many handouts. Trying to brush it off, meanwhile a Taoist saying keeps coming to mind:

What is a good man but a bad man's teacher. What is a bad man but a good man's job.

I believe that there is something to be learned from everything, a lesson gained to further refine our sensibilities. It's actually one of my favorite qualities in myself. (That, and my feet. I have really nice feet...) So, I am trying to chalk this one up to one -HUGE- learning experience, and find ways to improve myself with this newly acquired knowledge.

Not to always talk about television, my new best friend, but ––– last night on Tabitha's Salon Takeover there was a young gay stylist that reminded me of this very situation. He was very immature and sloppy, and would become defensive when constructive criticism was shuttled his way. Of course, no one likes to hear what they are doing wrong – it could make any of us feel embarrassed and a little insecure with everyone watching us. But... Ideally, there should to be that point when we decide that we will not only withstand those criticisms, but that we *should intentionally seek them out* to become better at whatever it is that's in front of us.

Sure, there are some instances where that is easier said than done (((like in bed))), but my hope is that we could muster the requisite courage and fortitude to face those nagging pinches of our peers' critiques, and absorb the much needed marrow of their offerings. Am I too much of a Pollyanna here??? Probably. But this young gay stylist kept crying every time Tabitha made a suggestion that would improve his cutting ability exponentially. Do we really want to cry every time someone dangles an opportunity for growth before us? (((Why did that sentence suddenly sound so dirty?)))

Point being, true self improvement can only happen when we're willing to face those parts of ourselves that we most likely don't want to really admit are in our arsenal. (I put the "arse" in arsenal... What's with me today?!?)

I had a fascinating conversation yesterday with yet another friend whom I haven't seen in ages. She and her boyfriend asked me to take care of their cats (as they each have their own condo and cats in said condos, but all reside in the same building). My dear friend kept making numerous advanced apologies for how messy and dirty she claimed her place was, and she admitted that she finally got around to contacting a professional organizer to help her in the new year. She seemed doubly embarrassed since she seems to think I'm some insane neatnik, and would be disgusted by her diggs.

The interesting part was that she said, "I don't think this messy part of myself really fits in to who I see myself as, on the whole." Hmmm. Some food for thought in there. And I could relate, as much as I can be a germaphobe with a penchant for wanting certain things to have *their* place in my home, I don't see myself as a neatnik. I kind of think of myself as a "work in progress," always trying to learn some new system that will help me break bad habits of letting junk mail pile up, or holding on to old magazines cuz I'm too lazy to tear out the one article and toss the rest, and just finally mastered my bill paying system online to prevent late payments and such... We all have that inner monologue, or that book jacket biography pinned to our psyche's metaphorical lapel.

"Will Warren is a short, subdued, yet snarky transguy who spends most of his free time writing, obsessively watching bad television and great films, and playing with animals for a living. In the past, he had many impatient, impulsive bad traits, often turning him into a stark raving lunatic, especially in affairs of the heart – which, unfortunately he's had many. Of all the things he's worked hardest at, it has been love – which has seemingly always escaped him, quite effortlessly. One day he decided to stop being a fuck up, and we're still waiting to see where that gets him... He's currently in the process of writing a few rambly blogs on the subject, which he is turning into a series of articles about contemporary masculinity, the necessity of "emerging identity" in American culture, and what not to do if you ever want to date again. He dreams about turning some of his articles into longer book forms, and getting back into film work. But his Mecca is to trek to California to someday meet Betty White, and maybe even Shirley MacLaine. Dare to dream."

I still see myself as the fuck up because that's what I've known for 30+ years. Even though I've had a few doozies to test me over the past year, and I've come out better than just okay, I am apparently slow to edit that self-description that I penned when my self-identity was just being formed. But stepping back now, I see that we are so much more malleable than perhaps we ever give ourselves credit for being. And yes, I decided to seek out some medical assistance when my long standing anxiety became increasingly problematic, but to be able to now see myself as liberated from that which felt like a noose around this mostly hopeful heart of mine, it is incredible.

Maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, or at least a cute configuration of a panda bear eating cotton candy while floating above us in the sky. Even as bummed as I was about my friend who let me down, I can see the ways that I've chosen to step up given this situation. I can't control her or her actions, but can learn and be more mindful about my own actions and reactions in the future. I am beginning to think that 95% of living well has to do specifically with our ability to manage crises, attending to the minutia of life to prevent them from snowballing into a crisis.

In the past, my anxiety would get the best of me and hold it hostage, while the worst of me would take over as the interim ambassador of Crazy Town. Now I see that I can manage nearly everything that tests me on a daily basis. With every bad day I am able to tell myself, "I will survive... It's not the end of the world." And I do survive, and the next day slowly evolves into it's own entity, bringing with it relief from some of yesterday's problems, and if I'm lucky, maybe even some joy thrown in there for good measure. The stress just rolls off me in a way that used to seem impossible. I formerly felt like a stress magnet, and when one feels like that, they are bound to find it wherever they go. Please don't get me wrong – I'm not saying that I don't care anymore... I simply mean, I have gained a better perspective on what really matters. And I have also gained more faith in my ability to withstand, and even improve upon what might currently feel off-putting.

Many times in relationships what matters most is how people handle the challenging times, where they inadvertently become make or break moments without even realizing it. As for me, I think slowly I have come to learn in this recent past of mine that I will make it, that I am not as permanently broken as I used to suspect. And I can only imagine how much more I will continue to learn, and how all of this will truly create a solid foundation upon which these handsome feet of mine can finally rest.

It's the hard times that test us the most. And I see now that I've passed.