It would appear that I cannot sleep. I am up at an unnatural hour because I cannot seem to turn off my brain. My husband never understands this because he denies ever being overtaken by the constant bombardment of sometimes random, but always unending rapid fire that causes one (generally me) to toss and turn until they (I) have no choice but to get up and watch a few hour of mind numbing TV until there is no choice but to surrender to sleep (repeat that sentence 5 times fast).
I want to sleep. I crave it. I need it. I grow fangs and claws when I am operating at a deficit (which is often but usually self inflicted). This is a proven and indisputable fact. Small children cower and grown me tremble when they see me coming after a fitful night of sleep. (Tonight, it would seem, my inability to sleep has caused me to make myself sound like a wonderful and pleasing individual.)
Every night, before I go to sleep, I seize the opportunity to talk with my husband for the few child free moments we enjoy together. Tonight we strayed to a topic that got my mind whirling. He had a conversation today that he found innocuous but I found (in my completely rational female way) to be laced with judgment. We were talking about looking down. (not to be confused with looking up which I find to be a necessary, hope filled, and enjoyable activity.)
Just in case you skipped the first few paragraphs of my little schpeel here, I am perfect and completely without flaws (she said sarcasticly), so I assure you that I try with all my heart never to judge. This is not to be confused with my love of holding firmly to my opinions and views while trying, with all that I am, to shove them down the throats of others. I just subscribe to the school of not throwing stones while standing in a glass enclosure of any kind. This may be hard for some people to believe, but coming from where I do, you know without a doubt that it takes all kinds. And being one of a kind (and wanting to be necessary) I try to let you be you without judgment.
So this is where I find myself now. Sitting at the computer hoping that by spilling my guts into cyberspace, I will be able to unburden my abnormally large frontal lobes (my brian people) and find sleep. Knowing (as I do) that those that bother reading this know me well enough to chalk everything said up to delirum, I plan on continuing without fear of offense but looking for answers.
Looking down is a time honored tradition employed by many due to its effectiveness and high success rate in achieving tears and turmoil. The “down lookers” make you feel like less because you don't seem to have as much. These are people who are stuck in a rigid box that dictates if you don't do things the way they do, you are wrong and therefore deserve to be scorned and ostracized. These are stupid people who have put themselves on a teetering pedestal of their own design, who will fall as soon as they realize that they are not really standing on anything. (Here I go with the judging. I don't really mean stupid. I mean snobby, rude, condescending, boastful, prideful, shallow, spiteful, unkind, mean spirited, hurtful, and small minded...but stupid seemed to be an easier way to express my current feelings even though I know it is not a nice word. It also made me sound like a little bit nicer person who has chosen to hike up that high road. But as we have already established that those of you reading know me pretty well, you might want to grab your flashlights and shovels because I am about to dig a tunnel beneath the low road. Wait. Just the thought of doing that was enough. I really feel a little better so, at the risk of seeming flaky, we are going to hop on the golf cart (because It is always easier to take the steeper route when you don't have to actually walk it.))
What do you do when someone that you care about is a judgmental pain in the patute (pronounced pa-toot-tee meaning bottom)? There have be subtle jabs for years that have steadily intensified (undoubtedly due to that fact that I have tried to be completely oblivious to the intended underlying hostility). I am vocal and quick-whited (if I do say so myself), so these types of attacks have little to no effect on me because I try to take it as well as I dish it. The problem is that I have recently found that the offender has changed battle tactics by sharing opinions and misinformation with other people I value. And now the questions have begun, and the looking down has spread. It makes me want to spit (and not just due to an abundance of saliva that I am convinced is a condition associated with aging even though my husband is trying to convince me that it has more to due with the bucket of Sour Punch Straws I got for my birthday. They are yummy and I would live on only them were it not for the sores they create in my mouth after a while).
So what do I do people? Do I surrender to my instincts and expose my confrontational nature? Do I put my gift for making people cry on display in open warfare? Do I respond by removing myself from the situation and duck and weave my way out of the relationships? Do I continue as if I am unaware? What do I do? What would you do? What would Jesus do (because, at this point I feel that both cheeks have been slapped)? Why do I even care? I must really be getting soft in my old age (or I just have a very close relationship with the offender/s) because normally I don't care.
And so here I am in the dead of night at the end of a week that has denied me sleep repeatedly (I went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter 6 and that sort of messed with my schedule). On the up side I am not fuming anymore (I would classify myself as being at the tale end of smoldering nearing the stage where the boy scouts pee on me to put me out (because that is what boys do at scout camp outs I have recently been informed)). I just wish they would bring on the pee because I am so ready for my bed.
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