I’d like to take a moment this afternoon to thank the various people who by being mean, evil and downright rude have steered me on the course to becoming a better person. You’d think I’d want to start by accentuating the positives, but it occurred to me on the walk home from the Gym that’s not how I work. Those who care and support me do so not because I ask them to, but instead remain due to their own love, respect and brilliance… and often a combination of all three. I don’t have any say in that at all, when all is said and done, the choice is theirs. These people mercifully also understand what I am: brittle, often difficult and unfathomable. I’d like to be none of these things, if I’m honest, but that’s a conversation for another blog.
The haters (who will hate, as is accepted practice on the Internets and beyond) for any number of reasons. Maybe you used to be ‘friends’ but something changed. Perhaps you don’t agree on a contentious topic. It could be as simple as failing to accept that everyone is entitled to an opinion… and then the list goes on, and on, and we’re moving away from the basic issue. This morning a truth was accepted: I like to be confrontational sometimes as an exercise in entertainment. There, I said it, and this has happened over the years with people who, for whatever reason, have decided that I’m their role model, or heroine or maybe simply an object of desire. Because I know I’m none of these things and just a person, I really should know better, but often using humour and contention to make a point can be useful. That’s how a lot of comedy works, after all.
The problem comes, of course, when the person you upset/embarrassed ‘in public’ with your rebuttal or opinion decides you’re now worthy of destroying.
I’ve been through quite a bit on that front in the last couple of years, I realised yesterday by going back through my ‘records.’ Whether it’s the sock Twitter account to sit and fire shit from a distance, or the bitter whispers via third party messages (because you blocked them on Twitter) there are many ways to think you will destroy your enemies by making noise. Ironically a lot of this ire springs from the incredibly mistaken belief by some that I’m some kind of influencer. If I legitimately held that title I’d do my damndest never to upset anyone and probably never speak as a result, because when you know how much trouble your outlook and attitude is capable of causing, the best lesson ever learnt is to keep quiet. Self loathing is all well and good, but I have now concluded that if I really want to be happy, I have to start with myself first.
Some people have absolutely no problem with loving themselves. In fact, if I’m honest, a fair proportion of the noise I deal with on any given day is from those who don’t care about anything except themselves in the equation. Turning their hatred and stupidity therefore into something worthwhile and useful seems not only like the right thing to do, but almost a prerequisite, appropriate antidote to negativity. Those of you who think I’m confident and happy should be reminded that crippling anxiety and self doubt are never far away in my head, and there is consideration of every single thing that is said and posted, whereas in the past I’ll be honest and admit I cared far less. I was in essence, the exact same people I now star at as Haters. I’m sure as fuck never going back to that place ever again for as long as I live.
You only get to attain balance by knowing how far each side of your scales will tip.
Without the Haters however, you don’t get a chance to consider your flaws. Even if the tirade of shit that random fuckwit spewed from the sock account was utter garbage, it doesn’t mean you can’t learn from it. You don’t simply ignore the person who fucked off, you can ask why it happened, and if you believe that it was as a result of something you did, then maybe that is a point to reassess. The problem comes when your scales tip too far into introversion and uncertainty, and in SHOCK NEWS after almost 50 years I’m still crap at doing that whole ‘stop worrying, just get on‘ thing that’s supposed to happen. It is easy to see why famous people never read reviews of their stuff because honestly, I’d go throw myself off a cliff over how some people feel their ‘opinion’ matters than actually treating fellow human beings with respect.
When all is said and done, a complex set of variables have combined to allow me to become a better human being. As there is a phenomenal amount of work left to do, I would anticipate spending another 50 years trying to get my head around the details. To those of you who tried to fuck me up along the way? Nice try, twats, but all you did was make me better and stronger. Fell free to continue to hate, but if you stopped and learnt to love yourself?
Who knows what might be possible.