The "Third-Person" Pieces 1: Negative?

Holly has been told by an array of people that she is negative, but Holly disagrees. Just yesterday her best friend P told her he thinks she's incapable of real change. Who needs enemies when you've got friends who think you suck? Not Holly! That's for sure! 

If anything, Holly is a card-carrying member of that retired class of people that can tell the sh$t from the sunshine, and she doesn't want to toot her own horn, but she is intellectual enough to know that sometimes there is no difference. This clear- eyed view of life seems to annoy people. This would annoy Holly if she believed you could please everybody. 

Now, with that being said, Holly is somber. Yes, it's true. She often falls victim to a whoa-is-me attitude, but that is only because life is unbearable. Again, not negativity. There are cold hard facts to back this feeling. People die. Children starve. Friends don't return phone calls. Food burns on the stove while you are taking a nap. This is all sound evidence that lead Holly to  continual questions. Why go on? What is to become of her? Will things ever get better? Unfortunately, the honest answers to these questions may be a touch negative, but these answers should not be mistaken with Holly herself. 

The Poopy Diaper Theory

Again, a friend is accusing me of being negative. This time it's Lisha and this time I was simply telling her about my day. And to be clear, my day was sh&t on a hot tin roof! Whenever this accusation arises I am left baffled because I am simply discussing how something went or how I am feeling. Perhaps someone should define for me what positive means, because it sounds like it means the act of using your pointer finger to draw a happy face in a poopy diaper. I don't want to do that. I don't know how to do that. I won't do that. For me, there is a line so thin between positivity and pretending that the two are almost synonymous, and pretending makes me incredibly tired. I gotta tell ya, I'm tired of being tired. 

The Co-Sign Theory

As I try to get to know men romantically late in life, I'm learning things about them that I didn't know earlier on. Although men are universally associated with strength, I am learning that, emotionally at least, they can't handle too much. I almost want to go as far as to say that they can't handle anything at all. Pix called me negative as I told him about my day in a good mood with a happy voice. Apparently, if something is not overtly positive and sunny, it is negative, and he can't bear to hear it. This sucks, because I was hoping he would be someone I could tell anything to. I thirst to have more male friends like this, but it doesn't look like it is in the cards. 

I told P about this, and, of course, he took Pix's side. P will take any side but mine, even if the other side is covered in spiders and quicksand. I told him about how, when discussing negativity allegations with my tight-knit circle of college Instagram sisters, they told me that men can not handle anything and to reserve difficult/political/thought-provoking conversation for my female friends. 

"I wouldn't take too much stock in that," P said. "Women just co-sign on whatever other women say, even if it's wrong or they feel differently."

The example that he used was actually the one I was thinking of when he said it. Big Homie Sans had listened to me complain about being lonely for nearly 20 years. And she was always pretty supportive and encouraging. Then one day, in response to a text I had sent her  (I was texting her to tell her to call me so I could let her know that I was official with the guy I had told her about), she sent me a text that had A LOT of hurtful things in it. The main thing that she said that hurt me terribly was that she didn't understand why a guy, particularly one that was fit, would want to date me because I am so fat. Why would he want to date a girl who could die? She called me and tried to walk it back, but it was already in the air. I began to wonder if she had always felt this way, even when she was assuring me that I would find someone at some point. 

God, I hope this is an isolated example. I would hate to learn that the women in my life that I love are just being co-signers and not real, honest friends. As someone who has been the victim of a surprise intervention (by people who had no professional authority to hold one), I can tell you that honesty from friends hurts. Three of my dearest friends basically told me that they were tired of me. It was a nightmare. But I would prefer that to people just co-signing my thoughts to avoid heavy conversations. You can't have a real friendship that way, and as with the example of Big Homie Sans, the truth always comes out eventually, and it is usually always negative. 

Positively Negative

I find myself desperately trying to hide how negative I am at church so that I can make friends. It has become clear to me that my sweet, pure, and dare I say beautiful form of pessimism clashes with clean, innocent, dare I say naive Christian optimism.
My friend Kyndra, who invited me to this church in the first place, did something that I would never do which is invite someone that I sort of know into a personal space. People know that she invited me, so I have tasked myself with trying to be on my best behavior. For me, I am seeing that this includes not being too honest. My honestly comes from a negative place and as you probably well know, negativity is a virus that spreads through the garden and murders all the roses. I don't want to kill her super sweet, warm, welcoming, and unrealistically encouraging and hopeful friends. I don't want to be the weed in an otherwise healthy flower bed.
Talking to the women in the church is the hardest. They are so nice, yet it is hard not to scream, "What a load!" whenever they speak. A couple of Sundays ago I stood with a tight, manufactured smile as a young woman with a cool, funky haircut named Paula spoke excitedly about how her ex finally deciding to get into church. For her, this was a milestone met on their way to getting back together, becoming "equally yoked" and jumping the broom. I smiled hard as her other friend, we will call her Peggy, listened along excitedly, praising God for the miracle of getting a young Black man into church. That is a miracle, I won't disagree with that.
When Paula finally took a breath, I asked, "What if none of this sticks with him? Are you prepared for that?"
I instantly regretted it. The power drained out of her eyes as if I had unintentionally turned off the lamp in her brain. "What?" she asked confused.
"Holly wants to know if you'd be okay if you two don't get married," Peggy chimed in. That is not what I wanted to know at all.
Paula inhaled, her power coming back on. "That is okay. I am more concerned with him getting saved."
I nodded, smiling so hard at this point that my cheeks were burning. I wanted to tell her that the whole thing smelled like a boy lie. I wanted to tell her that I could see this young man going as far as he felt he needed to before she agreed to sleep with him again. Then he would vanish from the church so fast it would be like he was never there. But that, good friends, would have been the type of honest negativity that makes it so no one wants to talk to you after service. I like after service talks.
As I have said before, I am trying to build a relationship with God and get better with changing my way of thinking. My current thinking is a hard skin to shed, seeing that I credit it with saving me from some decisions that could have been devastating. But being negative can be exhausting and preventative. Maybe one day I too can experience the joy of just knowing without a doubt that things are going to work out. Faith, it's what's for dinner.
Until I get to that point, it is all tight smiles and nods from the peanut gallery, secretly taking solace in being positive that negativity is the way for me, at least for now.

Go To Church!

Recently, an older friend of mine told me I need to go to church. This can't be a good sign about the state of my life.
We were in a conversation with another friend who was telling us how she was receiving blessings on blessings on blessings, and that she had reached all her goals. She credited God for this, saying that she was a spiritual person, and that her consistent self-affirmations also helped.
I don't know why I felt safe enough to say out loud that I feel that goals are unattainable sure ways to disappoint yourself and that affirmations are stupid, but I did. That's when my old friend told me I need to go to church.
"Do you go to church?" she asked.
"Nope," I answered honestly.
"You should go."
And, without me meaning to, I frowned, let out a grunt, and began to sink down into my seat. I don't know why. I'm not against church...I don't think.
She essentially told me that I need to go to church and pray it out.
"I pray for you," she said. I was relieved. I don't know where I would be without old lady prayers.
"Why do you think affirmations are stupid?" my other friend asked me.
The long and short of it, "Because I am negative," I answered. Real talk.
"I am going to pray that negativity off of you," she said.
I smiled. Silly woman. My negativity is as much a part of me as my adorable cheeks. It can't be prayed away. Surgically removed, sure, but not prayed away.
Sigh. Would it hurt me to go to church? No, but I don't want to. I am more comfortable lying to myself, telling myself that praying at home alone when I am in a pickle is doing the trick for my life. Side note: it isn't. Perhaps I do need to get more in touch with my so-called Methodist life.