Earlier tonight, my girlfriend Jess stopped by to drop off a
gift. The second time this week she’s
been here to shower us with presents and merriment. I don’t know why she does that. She just does. As a couple minutes turned into a couple of
hours, she looked at the clock and said “Oh, I’m keeping you from your writing!” She was not keeping me from anything. She’s one of the most important people in my
life, I assure you, I had all the time in the world for her. I did admit to her, however, that I am
exhausted and I have some demons to exercise.
It’s a mind frame that not many understand, but Jess does. So, as I walked her to the car when she was
leaving, she said “expel your demons. I
can’t wait to read about it.” Even
though those words warmed my heart, I looked at her and said “It’s probably
going to be ugly.” I’ll read it anyway, she said. Yes. That’s
what she said.
But when I walked back inside, I was still kind of wondering
what it was that I really have to say. I
tried to figure out what the demons were and how I was going to rid my soul of
them. Personally, this week has been
wonderful. My baby turned six. He had an amazing birthday. I’ve had a lot of time with people I love
without condition. I’ve seen many people
I adore have many successes. I even got
offered cookies a couple of times this week.
Who does that? Usually I give
cookies. I mean really, it was a good
week. Personally. But I’m not really a “personally” kind of
person. I’m more of an introspective, communal,
we’re all connected kind of person.
Aside from Christmas shopping, you’re kind of alone on that one. And yes, that’s on my mind, too. I should probably start that real soon.
Anyway, after Jess left, I knew I was going to write
something. I was so outraged about so
many things, that I didn’t know where to start.
So, I started to compose an email to my friend Tim. Tim has all the answers. He doesn’t want to have all the answers, he
just does. The first line of my email
read: “Sorry Tim. I know its Friday night, but I need you to
tell me how to not be offensive. Or
maybe how to not be offended.” Then, all
at once, I ceased correspondence. I didn’t hit send.
I didn’t even finish the email. I
went right to Microsoft Word, and started writing this. Because, suddenly, I knew what it was that I
had to say.
Mind. Your. Tone.
Mind your fucking tone. I say it
all the time. I say it to my kindergartner.
I say it to patients, both young and old.
I say it my friends, when they feel a little too arrogant. I say it to my cat when he screams at me for
dinner before 5 o’clock. Sometimes, I
even say it to myself when I start feeling indignant towards others. It’s policing your own behavior. Or the behavior of others, for a common
good. It’s not political
correctness. It’s not sensitivity. It’s MINDING YOUR TONE, when
appropriate.
I had a friend stop by my desk the other day and say “…you
pull a lot of weight on this base.” I
don’t know if I necessarily agree with that or not. I answer phones and forward health
records. But that fact that someone said
that to me, immediately, made me think about the things I say and the way
people perceive my words. And I have a
lot of words, therefore, a lot of things to think about. As a result, this week, I tried really hard
to focus my words on the things that are important to me. My son.
His birthday. The birthday cupcakes,
that by the way, have been acclaimed by no less than two five year olds, as the
“best cupcakes ever.” Then I focused my
words on the loss of a Coast Guard member, who happened to die the same day I
celebrated my child’s birth. It was a loss
that only made me want to rejoice life even more.
I know I went a lot of places tonight. Because I’ve been a lot of places this
week. We all have to balance celebration
with mourning. We all have to figure out
what’s a good fight and what s just a fight.
We all have to learn to police ourselves, because we never know who we
are hurting with your words. We all
need to mind our tone. For that matter,
we need to mind our words, too.
In that email to my dear friend that I was getting ready to
hit ‘send” on, I said “I always feel like I’m just one blog post away losing my
shit! Please tell me how to make
everyone happy.” The reason I didn’t
hit “send” on that email is because I didn’t want a response. I don’t always want to hear the truth. I don’t
want to lose my shit because people disagree
with me. I’m good with conversation. I’m
not so good at ignorance. When I feel
that things are important, I try to substantiate my feelings with documents or
data. If the off chance, I can’t make an
argument based on fact, I try to relate to others, subjectively, with my
feelings. For example, this week, Radley turned
six. I told a story of his life. Also, this week, we lost a hero, to due to
injuries he sustained in the line of duty.
That’s a hard pill to swallow when you are busy shoving the pills down
the throats of his peers. Then, on top of it all, we taught civics to a group
of people who only hear what they want to hear.
I try really hard to not use this
blog as a soapbox for social and political nonsense.
Just try to remember what’s important. Try to remember where you came from. I had a lot of white men tell me to mind my
tone in my life. I learned a lot about
respect from them. They told me a lot of
times: Sit and eat. Sit and be
quiet. Sit and act like a lady. Mind your tone, young lady. I’ve learned a lot from those guys. I learned when I could talk and when I should
bite tongue. As a result of all this conditioning, I have learned that I have no problem crossing
my legs, leaning forward and saying “you are wrong.”
Again, I have a lot of words. They aren’t always right. And I have no problem admitting my
wrongs. But those white men weren’t
wrong when they sad “mind your tone.” I’ve
always been real mouthy, and I’ve always needed someone to remind me that I need
to think before I speak. But still, in
spite of my free spirit and my verbal vomit, I still understand what is
acceptable to discuss and what should have been ignored. Maybe I could put on a seminar for those white
men now.
-Inner Peas
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