I don’t like making waves. It’s just how I am. I like for people to like me and I try to make it easy for them. I hate conflict. Hate disapproval. I like to make nice. Just the opposite of my ballsy boyfriend, whose driving principal is that people will walk all over you if you’re too nice. He has his reasons for feeling that way, and I admire his feistiness, but it’s not my way.
But the price I pay for being compliant and likeable is giving up some authenticity. I’ve been this way a long time and change doesn’t come easy when you’re pushing 70. But it can. And it did. Last night.
I dared to stand up for a political opinion of mine on Facebook. I could’ve kept my mouth shut. Kept the peace. But I drew a big breath and spoke my truth, swathed in diplomacy, then braced myself for the reaction. Would this person, a high school friend who I’d probably see at our next reunion, shoot me down? She did not. She just said, “True.” Whew.
It was a baby step but it was a step. And I could feel my spine hardening up ever so slightly. Better late than never.