Monday, June 09, 2008
Today the Mr. hurt my feelings. It wasn't anything so dramatic to be worth a novella but one of those moments when the hurt feelings seemed a bit out of proportion to his actions even to me, the "victim." But I got hurt and had a hard time getting unhurt. Like getting stuck in the mud or a Michigan snow drift and trying to rock your way out. As I sat there listening to him trying to change the subject and move on I wondered if I was sensitive. As in, too sensitive. I don't think of myself that way and yet just the right nuance (mostly from him) and there I am in an emotional snow drift. He's not a hurtful guy, but sometimes I am quite hurtable. Sensitive? I don't know.
Since I was already well into me-mode, I also started wondering if other people think I'm complicated. Again, I don't think I am. But the Mr. would probably say that I am sensitive and so maybe I am complicated too. The way I see it, I am so uncomplicated it shouldn't be all that hard not to hurt my feelings!
I am a deep thinker but a rare talker. I do not like rehashing the things that bother me. I give them a vent or two to specific people and then I'm done. Even if the situation isn't over, I'm over listening to it coming out of my mouth. Sometimes people think I'm wallowing or upset when really I'm just quieting down. I have nothing left to say but I'm not quite on the upswing yet.
I don't need cards or gifts or flowers for special occasions. I don't get hurt when I am not honored on special days. I'd rather have a pot of petunias than a diamond tennis bracelet.
My bureau is filled with t-shirts in white, gray and black. Yoga pants in gray, navy and black. Blue jeans. My summer shoe of choice is flip flops from Old Navy, $5/pair.
Luxury for me is crisp sheets on bare legs in the summer. Decadence is water melon, extra sweet when eaten warm. A pitcher of lemonade is a treat, fresh lemons a wonder. Old black and white movies soothe my nerves when they are frayed. I like to run across them by chance and not own them on DVD, it's more special that way. Old photographs are miraculous to look at. A well-written book is more tempting than a Caribbean vacation.
Maybe I am uncomplicated and sensitive. Maybe I'm complicated and overly sensitive. In all my faults and weaknesses, I know that being able to stretch out my bare legs on crisp sheets at bed time and finding it glorious for forty one years worth of nights is a gift.
And if I am indeed sensitive, let me hurt for others as much as I hurt for myself and I will call it a gift as well.
When all is said and done, if hurt feelings can fade with a Katherine Hepburn movie and a glass of lemonade; it doesn't really matter what label I wear. I am blessed.
Psalm 139:1 O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.