Multicolor Among the Grayscale

Multicolor Among the Grayscale 1

“I don’t care what you think about me. I don’t think about you at all.” – Coco Chanel

Y’all have heard me talk about my 3-times rule before, right? And this one has been hitting me in the face, more than 3 times in the past two days.

Other. People’s. Opinions. Of me.

Really, Universe? ‘Cause you would I thought I had this one down.

One look at me should confirm, right? I live my own life and don’t take a freakin’ poll about whether or not what I like is “okay.” Duh. I’m an out-of-the-closet woo-woo pink-haired hippie freak. And proud of it.

But I do notice. Still, I notice. (Saturn-Uranus opposition, man.)

Just an example: Today I posted a link on my Low Carb page, to a Tarot interview I did..  Told them it was “in case you’re curious about the person behind this page.” Whenever I post a woo-woo link there, I always clearly label it “OFF-TOPIC” and warn the spiritually squeamish that if they don’t dig the woo-woo, they should pass it by. I post something off-topic on that site maybe 3 or 4 times a year. So it should be pretty easy to ignore.

There were some unhappy responses. Not surprising, considering there are over 20,000 people there. Some will be scared or bothered or freaked out or whatever by the woo-woo wonderful. Not a big deal, you cannot please everyone and I have no aspirations of such.

But as I am reading the comments, suddenly my heart starts pounding, accompanied by sensations of anger, fear and disgust washing over me like waves. It felt like being in the middle of an angry crowd, and somebody was about to start throwing rocks.

I realized quickly I was getting smacked with the feelings behind the responses (those who wrote and probably those who felt the same but not directly verbalizing). Oh my God! Sometimes, I get a contact buzz off of people’s emoting without really seeking it. It tends to be stronger if the emotion is actually about me. But this was just plain freaky.

I got away from my computer and grounded to catch my bearings. But it shook me a little; I wasn’t expecting it.

Sometimes I think my being different is helpful to other people, in and of itself. Like if I can be a big-mouthed, pink-haired old lady who readily acknowledges I believe in magic and talk to spirits and look to Tarot cards to solve problems, it makes it a little easier for somebody else who would like to be more…”unique”–but is afraid.

I cannot tell you how many times people have come up to me in public to comment on my hair. A few don’t like it–but most keep that to themselves. More light up. And some just sound wistful.

“I wish I had the guts to do that,” many say.

“It’s just hair. It grows out.” I tell them. It never seems to help, when I say that.

But you know, if your boss or your spouse or your neighbors or you mother hate weird hair colors, then it could be hard. Very hard. If you are not already sure you’re golden in terms of being “okay,” then it could be hard. If you’re feeling shaky or unsure or somehow broken, then the criticism and disapproval and negativity of even something so insignificant as your hair color is going to smack you in the face because it feels TRUE. Like all the other criticism you may hear.

I don’t know the moral of this story. Not really. Hater’s gonna hate? That you had better get your shielding in order if you’re going to really stand up and be different as Hell? Even if you know who you are and you know you’re okay, it doesn’t feel good to get blasted with the haters.

Only thing I know for sure: whoever or whatever you are, SOMEBODY is gonna hate it. I’d rather be hated for being myself than partially liked for being somebody I’m not. The only real insulation against any onslaught of such negativity is not giving it any weight. Detaching, you know?

Love thyself. That’s it.

I guess this whole post boils down to those words: LOVE THYSELF.

Can you relate?

 

 

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