Learning To Like Me

Sometime in the last year I found out that one of my neighbors hated me. I’ve never met this neighbor, so their distaste for me (which I discovered was due to opposing political beliefs) didn’t bother me an iota. If anything, it bolstered my political pride. Especially when I found out that this person used toilet paper with Obama’s face on it. Hard pass on you too, guy.

More recently I found out that another neighbor didn’t like me. One that I have met. One I’ve been nothing but pleasant and warm to. And truthfully - it knocked the wind out of me. 

I try, really hard, to be kind. I’m not without fault or flaw, but I can say with confidence that I am a good person. I care about the people of the world; the greater good. I treat all people with dignity and respect - maybe especially those who receive it the least. I don’t judge books by their covers, and I do not believe any of us are intrinsically better than any others. (Even ahem, when we differ politically.) I’m not trying to pat my own back or anything - but I know, deep in my heart, how pure my intentions are. My niceness is not a facade. 

All this effort to be good and pleasant - and to some, I’m still unlikeable. Apparently they judge me. For not being perfect. For not being ... something? More like them? I’m not sure what my shortcoming is to be honest, or at least not what it is to them. But it has bothered me ... more than it should. 

I’m not so naive to think that everybody is going to like me. I certainly don’t like everybody. But still, at 37, feelings can be hurt. And mine ... were. 

I am not perfect. I swear in front of my kids. I eat trash food. I pout when I don’t get my way. I lose my temper. I am never caught up on laundry. And my baseboards are far from wiped clean. But I am good. And I know that I am good. And that has to be enough for me. For any of us. 

My friend Kayla says haters are just confused fans. Johnny says who you don’t like says more about you than them. These things both bring me some peace.

So to those who don’t like me ... it’s okay. You don’t have to. Because after a lifetime of hard work, I know that I like me. And well, that’s enough.