The Reality

I was only about 11. The holidays had come again. I stood along the wall and watched, always watching. Their smiles and laughter seemed a million miles away. Completely unattainable. Out of my reach. They were having such a great time. They sparkled with life and vivacity.

As I stood there a deeper realization began to dawn. I wasn't ever going to be a part of that. I wasn't invited. I wasn't welcome. I wasn't included. Hell, I wasn't even noticed.

Unless...

Unless I made myself integral to the process and valuable for the "event". Then I would be included. Well, not "me" necessarily. Not my thoughts, convictions or perspectives. Not my hopes and dreams. I could sacrifice being personally welcome if I could "work my way in".

At least I wouldn't be alone.

I learned early the value of being a commodity. Meeting the needs for everyone else was my ticket in. The knowledge and abilities about problem solving and organization I brought to the table were of far greater importance than any intrinsic value I might have simply because I was a member of the family, part of the church. Name the event. If I was willing to work twice as hard for half the result and be happy with it, I could move away from the wall and join the "party".

This makes me a great employee. I understand it's not "personal". I am paid to to a job according to the standards of my employer and to excel means doing what I'm told as perfectly as I am able.

This makes me extremely cynical about relationships. I understand the formula. I know my place. I call, make plans, serve well, entertain by tailoring an "event" to the personalities of the persons involved and I have become valuable. Well, not me really. See, I'd have to sit down long enough to talk and share my heart for me to show myself. Great food? I can do that. Hospitable environment? I can do that. Schmooze? Make you feel like a million bucks? Yep. Work hard to make your dream come true? Been there, done that.

I can watch a group of people and respond to them according to their obvious needs. Men and women have many obvious needs in common. Ask about life. Offer a sympathetic face. Compliment intelligence (when appropriate). Compliment spouses and children. Encourage their lives and reinforce their value and relevance to *name the situation/ environment/ circumstance.

1+1=2. Every time.

Be sincere. Don't flatter. If she's in sweats and her hair is up don't tell her she looks radiant. Rather, sympathize with how busy her life must be. If he's got a bright, crisp shirt on and his hairs combed? "My, aren't you all dashing today! Taking the wife out?"

Deflect. Deflect. Deflect. "How am I? G-d is good, isn't He? Don't you love...." Which leads to another conversation which will quickly revolve around the other person. And they will walk away feeling "heard" and "important" and "valued". Which causes them to develop/maintain a positive response to me. Without them knowing or even bothering to know a damn thing about me.

I've a couple of friends I can think of who are probably sick of hearing me talk about my life. I suppose it's because they are the only one's who will hear about my life from my perspective. They are the ones who have proven, through investment in me, that they actually don't give a rats ass about what I "do for them" and truly care about who I am. Whether I perform or not.

Even you, dear blog reader, would fade if I quit writing or posting. To engage you I must produce.

This is the legacy I live with. The legacy of the childhood victim who was never given the opportunity to develop her own personality but was traded as a cold-blooded "commodity". I am learning, as an adult, to stop and evaluate whether the person with whom I am interacting is actually interested in me or what I can provide for them.

I don't mind being consumable. I just don't offer much to be consumed to those who don't care. When I've spent all I can on them? The door closes.

That's when I find out if I'm right about them or not. It's tragic how often those who most loudly declare their undying affection and concern are the least likely to spend any of their own energy, resources or effort on the very thing they have shouted from the rooftops.

It's amazing how quickly the phone doesn't ring and how quietly those individuals fade away.

Unless I am willing to offer again a service which they find valuable and offer them the product for their consumption.

Cynical? Maybe.

Realist? Maybe.

Survivalist? I don't know how else to live.