I have experienced one too many sleepless nights in the twenty-eight years I have been alive. I suspect that a good 40% of those sleepless nights have been related to up-coming stresses (You can read more about my anxiety here). I also suspect that the remaining 60% have been past experiences that pop up in the middle of the night to remind me why I am trash and why I don’t have friends (I have trash behavior and I also have friends, so there’s that).
Too many of us remember the horrible, embarrassing moments we have had in the past. We all cringe every now and again, remembering what an utter idiot we have, in the past, made of ourselves in front of human beings who obviously, still remember it. These human beings remember these things every single time we encounter them. These people always look at us with pitiful looks, thinking things like “oh, the poor nimrod”. These people will never forgive us for making simple mistakes, or falling in front of everybody – or the time that we gave the wrong answer in front of our crushes. And if they are not to forgive us for our gross inadequacy in life, who are we to forgive ourselves?
I think I remember when I started to feel embarrassment every single time I remembered something I had done. (P.S. This is not to blame anyone who took part in the following scene of my childhood; it just happens to be one of my first experiences with feeling particularly ashamed of a behavior that I otherwise thought to be normal.)
My parents and I (Somehow, my siblings were not in this particular scene – suspicious) had visited relatives in the Lubombo region of the country. Upon arrival, we were given the “make yourselves feel at home” spiel and I, as a six or seven year old child, took that quite literally. I took to making myself familiar with the surroundings, in which, I happened to stumble upon a plastic bag full of luscious, green Granny Smith apples nestled in the fresh produce drawer of their brand new, silver grey refrigerator. I didn’t know this at the time, but apples were soon to become my favourite fruit in the whole wide world (until November and December rolls around and we can have mangoes, peaches, plums, and litchis added to the readily available fruit list). And so while my parents were engaging in riveting conversation with each other while I was seated on the brown (my memory isn’t that great but I feel like it was brown) carpet in the living room, I took to exploring this particularly amazing taste that exploded in my mouth with each bite I took of each apple I continuously fetched from the fridge as soon as the last one was finished.
I don’t remember being reprimanded at that moment. I know that I was of course, possibly on apple number seven. I do, however, remember how every single encounter that followed with the relatives we had visited, began with “Oh there she is, the little girl who finished our weekly supply of apples in one sitting”. It probably didn’t always go like that (or ever, if we’re being honest but the apples were mentioned over and over again). I remember how embarrassed I would get when this was brought up. I literally would hide behind my mother and hope that my disappearance from their peripheral at that moment would make me invisible for the rest of the encounter. I remember wanting to run away and never wanting to see them again because, I clearly hadn’t behaved well in front of them.
I can laugh-cry about it now. Because, 20 something years later, it is still embarrassing to me. I recently saw these relatives on my wedding day and all I had running through my mind was: “Please don’t mention the apple incident to my husband – I’m not sure I’ll be able to explain that to him.”
Of course, 20 something years later, I have amassed many (MANY) moments where I have felt that I behaved less than – and as such, there are many (MANY) people I would rather not bump into, lest I see the pity in their eyes because the memory of that horrible time I coughed while I had a terrible cold and a little snot escaped from my left nostril, has brought itself to the surface right at that moment. Which means, I still quiver in shame during the nights (and days) because I have not displayed myself in the best possible way I could.
I’ve had more regretful moments in more recent times. Things I probably shouldn’t say out loud but here we are:
- I sang a Beyoncé song at my wedding – specifically to my husband. I know what you’re thinking – how could I? What was I thinking? Everyone knows; the vocal range or ability doesn’t matter. Beyoncé WILL embarrass you when you least need to be embarrassed. I went ahead with it. It has been captured by the 200 plus humans that were there and the vidoographer. If I pretend to never see you in the street after, understand that this is why – thank you for your understanding.
- Husband and I were hosting a braai (some of you will know it as a barbeque) at our house to thank everyone who had played a key role in the wedding festivities and somehow (I’m not going to shift any kind of blame to anyone but the numbers I received, were nothing close to the actual numbers) we ran late on serving food and then we proceeded to quickly run out of food. I felt incompetent. I felt inadequate. Luckily, my sisters were on hand to take over because my mind had completely ceased to function.
- On Friday, last week – I was brought into a little playful quarrel between colleagues. One of them asked me to come in and slap the other to control him, in front of their other colleagues. I happened to refuse and proceed to spew utter nonsense from my mouth, visibly confusing every single one of them and causing one to leave the room we were in, to quietly laugh in their office space. I, for some reason beyond comprehension, could not accept defeat and quietly walk away from the situation. I instead, tried to explain what I meant and why it made sense. It didn’t make sense to them. And I returned to my desk feeling every single bit, a wounded dog that had been bit AND reprimanded for being a “bad dog”. I wanted to hide. I wanted to replay the moment and just not step outside the office to grab a glass of water. I wanted to erase the whole thing. I, unfortunately, cannot quit my job to ensure that I never see these people again.
I’ve had to ask myself why these things affect me to the point of doing everything humanly possible to avoid ever seeing the people I have had bad experiences in front of. I’ve noted this. I want people to experience me in the best light possible. This means I speak eloquently, I walk elegantly and I laugh like a glass of sparkling wine tastes all the time. All. The. Time. Anyone alive will tell you that this is not realistic. Anyone will tell you that everyone has horrible moments in life that they can do nothing about. Sure, when you look back on it, it feels like you could have done something to change the outcome but could you really? Can you really be sure that you will never have an embarrassing moment ever again in your life?
Can you make sure that everyone experiences you positively in life? Can you manipulate their view of that experience of you? Because that’s where the cringes come from isn’t it? Knowing that someone has translated your embarrassing moment as just who you are. That someone knows you as a loser? As a klutz? As a right idiot who just says the first thing that comes to their mind under pressure? You cannot control that.
I’m learning that I will have more moments that make me feel like disappearing into thin air. I’m learning that I can control the way that people experience me in the instances that work out the way that I want them to. That’s the best case scenario. But we’re not really certain that every situation will end that way.
Maybe I should learn that whatever people think of my less than desirable moments, is their own problem. And perhaps that would give me nights that are less restless. Maybe I have to acknowledge that I can’t control the narrative in people’s minds and that that is okay.
Nomshado 