A Little From Column A

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I’m fairly private about religion, political opinions, and social security numbers of family.

I keep the last item private for obvious reasons; the first two are more complicated. Mostly, I hate being categorized. My husband doesn’t get it.

“I love being put in categories,” he says. “I don’t understand why you don’t.”

I sigh. “Because I’m not ever put into good categories.”

My 18-40 white male breadwinner who works in the technical industry and has above-average intelligence looks back at me, confused.

From the limited mental capacity of over a decade of child-rearing, stay-at-home housekeeping, and intentional numbing; I attempt to talk expound.

Problem is, I have difficulty. Maybe it’s that limited mental capacity thing I admitted to just now. That, and I am nearly crippled at the idea of conversation. Challenges within conversation take out any other remaining limbs. Finish off with a general uncertainty and low self-esteem, and you’re lucky you caught the words I thought to type tonight.

I do not want to be categorized because of the limitations that puts on my character.

know that others’ opinions ought not to play into my self-esteem at all. I hear that I should just be me and everyone will love me for it. I think, sometimes, to try it out.

Then, telling the mother of an acquaintance that I think unborn babies preaching the gospel to spirits in heaven sounds wonky gets me labeled as anti-her religion. Asking a close friend to not disparage feminist viewpoints lands me in his radical/liberal/male-stabbing/unreasonable/lesbian camp. Suggesting that making one’s kids dress nicely for special events causes a sudden drop-off in the number of texts from the mother I suggested this to.

Where are all these people who will like me for who I am? Are they hiding in their own categories somewhere?

How can I expect to enjoy the sensation of being stuffed in a box when I’m left to sit uncomfortably, in the dark, and listen to the retreating steps of the one(s) who put me in there?

Picture Source: Pixabay

14 thoughts on “A Little From Column A

  1. This was vulnerable and powerful. Thank you for putting it out there. I think everyone can relate to this to some degree. Each of us hide parts of ourselves for fear of judgement—that’s really what categorization is anyway, right? A person is a sum of all of his or her experiences and categorization takes a person in a moment, with a biased and limited viewpoint from another, and cuts them off from the reasons that contributed to the attribute as well as from the opportunity to outgrow the label. And gossip makes the box that much harder to overcome. If it makes you feel any better, you are in my “good friend” box and my “people that I admire” box and my “witty humor” box and my “Monday morning reading material” box :), just to name a few.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Hey, thanks! I love your descriptors of the whole, irritating shebang. You’ve helped me put more of a finger on the direct irritant; hopefully I’ll find its pressure point and move forward to that elusive self-love.

      Like

  2. I guess there’s an element of self-confidence here too. I’m reasonably comfortable with who I am so am happy with the boxes I create for myself and honestly can’t give a flying fuck what other people think. I’m an atheist, pro-European, liberal, republican-leaning (i.e. not very keen on the monarchy), arty, database & Excel-loving bloke who has just hit 50 and drives a black coupe & has just bought a black leather biker’s jacket. If anyone has a problem with that, fuck ’em. We are multi-layered individuals who shouldn’t worry how others perceive us. Be who you want to be. Be kind. Be you. Be kind to you. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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