Well, I believe I've hit another milestone in life. Emotional maturity. Okay, let's not lie, no one will ever reach complete emotional maturity (who would want to? pshhh).
After this past week, I realized that I'm far further on the road that is referred to as Emotional Maturity than I thought. This realization came when a very dear friend, probably my best friend up here in the land of penguins and Eskimos*, lied to me about something very important. Both myself and a 3rd person who were involved in this just plain ridiculous situation were strangely mature about it. Even just 2 years ago, I would have flipped out and gone crazy. But instead I was irrationally calm; I didn't even know why I was so calm while I was being calm. I mean don't get me wrong, I definitely had my mild outburst of violence after letting the whole situation settle. 2% of the time, my punches actually inflict pain--winning! But, initially and even now, I can only see the situation in a rational way and learn from it. I'm still #@$(%$&# pissed and disappointed, but life is too short to dwell on things you can neither control nor change. So you might as well learn from them, try your damnedest to forgive, and move on a stronger woman (or man--whichever is reading this--if anyone). I really wish I could document what happened on here, but both of the other two people involved are great friends and I don't want to do that to them. Just know it's a good one--we'll leave it at that.
So back to this emotional maturity nonsense. Most of you know I tend to act like a...well...12-year-old boy. That's what she said jokes are probably my favorite thing on the planet. I say inappropriate things when appropriate (figure that one out). Basically the main differences between me and your average 12-year-old boy are that I don't think my best friend's big sister is hot (because I am that big sister type that 12-year-old boys love for some reason), I've already gone through puberty (praise baby Jesus!), and I don't smell perpetually bad (unless I'm wearing a hat--you know I haven't showered if I'm wearing a hat).
So I like to have fun. I like to do and say silly things and act a fool. I like to ride rollercoasters and scream at the top of my lungs. I find fainting goats hilarious and am pretty sure I could spend an entire day on youtube watching America's Funniest Home Videos clips and laughing babies and funny animals. But somehow I'm still able to be professional at work, am able to have intellectual conversations with adults, somehow have intellectual conversations with my niece (genius child), and have real relationships with people. This has made me ponder: how is it possible that I can carry on a normal life as a real person and yet still be my ridonkulous, goofy self 99% of the time? I still don't know the answer to the question, but I'll keep the "kid at heart" thing going anyway--it works on me. But after this past week, I'm happy to know that I'm emotionally mature and stable. It's quite comforting to know that after some of the cow poop (i genuinely wanted to use an alternate set of covabulary**) that people have done, I can still walk away a stronger woman. Go Dani!! I get a cookie...or not...because I'm on one of my healthy eating kicks...guhhhh.
Done and done.
*Yes I know summer is coming and Boston is awesome in the summer. But I'm from TN--I'm allowed to make arctic and Eskimo jokes for anything farther north than the Mason Dixon line.
**regarding my new word I just created. That was a typo. I went back and fixed it initially, but then realized that's awesome and Webster's should adopt it. I'm going to be a billionaire after that one. Just wait. Don't steal it. steel? no steal. yes. steal. right? ugh!
No comments:
Post a Comment