All that we see, hear, say or feel is color filtered through our own experience - we interpret and then act on what we perceive to be real - molding and shaping our reactions to fit our expectations. We don't leave much room for the possibility of distortion or misunderstanding. We hear and see things that aren't real, aren't meant to hurt, aren't said out of malice. Sadly, we like to be very certain about it and are rarely if ever inclined to back down. We anticipate people will be carelessly and passively cruel and we practically invite them to do us harm - until and unless we come to recognize that we're filtering.
I wasn't thought much of as a child. Much like the adult I became, I was naturally shy, had a stubborn streak, no special talents and liked being a loner. I loved animals, thought people were impossible to please, and tended to have my nose buried in a book more often than not. I spent a great deal of time trying to stay out of the way and invisible whenever possible - there was safety in being overlooked - and until I was old enough to fight back, I was happy not to be noticed. I spoke if called on, made good but not spectacular grades, played sports when forced to, learned piano to please my daddy. But I never outgrew my mother's voice, never managed to shake off her drunken tirades and resentments and softly insinuating criticisms. There was always that voice in my head suggesting that I would never be good enough, smart enough, pretty enough or anything enough - I heard it long after she was dead and I was out of range, sometimes I hear it still - because even today I filter through it. As angry as it makes me, it's very nearly a reflex to look for a hidden meaning behind a compliment or wonder why someone would do something nice for me. I catch myself at this and even though it doesn't usually help much, I make it a point to deliver a withering scolding to my self esteem. I don't generally listen but it's good practice.
The really hard part is remembering that other folks have their own filters, in different strengths and assorted colors, but still seeing my actions and hearing my words accordingly.
Check your filters and replace them as needed.
Don't let dust obscure your vision.
Rotate your tires and change your oil as recommended.
Don't skip the 3,000 mile checkup.
We all run better with regular maintenance.
I wasn't thought much of as a child. Much like the adult I became, I was naturally shy, had a stubborn streak, no special talents and liked being a loner. I loved animals, thought people were impossible to please, and tended to have my nose buried in a book more often than not. I spent a great deal of time trying to stay out of the way and invisible whenever possible - there was safety in being overlooked - and until I was old enough to fight back, I was happy not to be noticed. I spoke if called on, made good but not spectacular grades, played sports when forced to, learned piano to please my daddy. But I never outgrew my mother's voice, never managed to shake off her drunken tirades and resentments and softly insinuating criticisms. There was always that voice in my head suggesting that I would never be good enough, smart enough, pretty enough or anything enough - I heard it long after she was dead and I was out of range, sometimes I hear it still - because even today I filter through it. As angry as it makes me, it's very nearly a reflex to look for a hidden meaning behind a compliment or wonder why someone would do something nice for me. I catch myself at this and even though it doesn't usually help much, I make it a point to deliver a withering scolding to my self esteem. I don't generally listen but it's good practice.
The really hard part is remembering that other folks have their own filters, in different strengths and assorted colors, but still seeing my actions and hearing my words accordingly.
Check your filters and replace them as needed.
Don't let dust obscure your vision.
Rotate your tires and change your oil as recommended.
Don't skip the 3,000 mile checkup.
We all run better with regular maintenance.
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