Stumbling Down Memory Lane

It's Friday.

Today I tripped and fell down memory lane, but the flashback wasn't one of my finest hours.  Moments like these make me wonder if they happen just to remind us not to be what we once were--or perhaps it's some sort of torture device the enemy uses to get inside our heads.  All in all, this memory really isn't that bad.

A blue monkey friend of mine posted on a group in facebook.  That's what started the colossal tumbling.  She'd had her little writer's heart punched by an individual who didn't understand.  When she laid who she truly was out on the table, the response she received was "oh....okay...I don't get it." or "It's confusing".  

Those are harsh words to lay in the lap of an individual who wants understanding and support.  For the most part, those are two things I have.  Most (if not all) of my friends and all of my family back me on my desire to be a published author.  They love me, and when they need to say the rough things, they know how to say them in love.  But that isn't always how it works.

My friend reminded me of what I'd faced once...a time when my reaction to the criticism wasn't pretty.  It was shameful to see how my defenses rose and I proceeded to act like a small child.  Albeit, I was only 18...not a very mature age from all those I've known to see it--myself especially.  I (foolishly) placed my heart on a note in Facebook, it was the first chapter of my first complete draft of my book.  This was my mistake.  You do not take your first born child to the (creepy) beauty pageant and expect the critical judges (with no children of their own) to think your child is as beautiful as you do.  Bad analogy..I hate those beauty pageants.

Regardless, I placed myself in a very vulnerable position.  My friends responded as they saw fit.  I don't agree with how they said everything, though looking back I agree with much of what they said.  It was my own fault for not expressing my vulnerability to them, so that they knew to "handle with care".  Instead, they spoke blunt harsh truths in well written paragraphs, tearing each strand of resolve and strength away from me--they left me bleeding on the floor with no doctor or medic to keep me alive.  It didn't take long for me to snap, tears filling my eyes as I made my replies.  These returns were all right in the beginning, with little marks here or there that screamed "Ouch! Okay, thank you, but no more".

But that wasn't enough for the slaughter to stop.  My friends, not seeing these signs, continued.  They kept tearing my firstborn to pieces in front of me.  Shredding my little darling and calling him ugly.  I got ugly myself, snapping back at them and forcing them into retreat.  They tried to apologize, tried to make me understand.  It was too late, I was already broken--they'd already murdered my child.

At least, that was how I saw it at the time.  Now, I see that they thought they were doing what was required of them--they just answered with their brains and not their hearts.  They left the feeling and the care for me at the door when they embarked on their comments--which really isn't a large crime.  They treated me with business when it was a matter of family.

Looking back, I found myself ashamed.  Sure, they'd hurt me, but not intentionally.  They hadn't set out with "let's make Kelsey cry" screaming in their hearts.  They'd only wanted to help.  Almost all of what they said, I eventually realized (much much later and without remembering they'd said any of it) was right.

I'm sure they saw me as ugly that day.  I'm sure they were offended by my harsh words and ready to fight action.  Fight or flight?  Fight please...too bad they thought they'd been invited to tea.

How silly we are.  I wonder how mature I am now.  In three or four years will I look back on this blog and laugh at my immaturity?  Will I think of how silly I was to think well of myself even in the slightest?  Do I think well of myself?

Flashbacks such as these always leave me feeling down on myself.  Too bad we can't change the ugly in our pasts.