One of my most important lessons on this subject had to do with exploring who I really am as a woman.
At the end of the day, the facts were downright brutal.
It did not matter one bit that I have secretly always wanted to be asked for a recipe and bragged on for my cooking skills. The fact is that I am a lousy cook. I don’t like to cook. Cooking produces dirty dishes, and I hate to wash dishes.
That’s the end of that little fantasy.
Then I had to get honest about my divorce decrees, which I could use as wallpaper for my bathroom.
I can waah-waah all day about my unfortunate knack of seeming to always marry the man who enjoys dating on the side. But if I take that walk through introspection, I have to then admit to myself and all of America that I wasn’t married more than 20 minutes before I started to wish that I wasn’t really married at all.
Some of my ambivalence about wedded bliss had everything to do with absolutely hating predictability and routine. I also never outgrew adolescence. Try to tell me what to do and I will go out of my way to teach you that it is impossible to tell me what to do.
But another cold hard fact about me is that I don’t have the skills to be married.
Too bad it took 50 years to see and accept that about myself.
It’s true though.
I love love.
I’m just not good at it.
Anyway, while I have been learning about who I really am, I have run across a lot of odd moments with other human beings, moments when I wonder why at least a little bit of self-awareness never crossed their minds.
For example, while election results were causing mini-wars on social media, I read some rather inflammatory posts written by a person I thought I knew fairly well. First I was shocked by her level of nastiness and judgmental haughtiness. But then I was utterly stunned when she commented that she was so glad she was not judgmental.
Um excuse me, kettle. Any minute you gonna get knocked unconscious by the pot.
There’s nothing pleasant about taking your own inventory and squinting at what you see.
Who wants to admit to some lousy qualities? I certainly don’t like being known as the runaway bride.
It’s not always a good time to be the brunt of other people’s jokes, either.
But then again my poor choices got me to where I am today.
At least I am willing to admit that now. Because I admit to those truths, you don’t see me out here trying to be a marriage counselor.
I am the first person to stand up and tell you that I was not good at being a wife. Very often I thought about how to fold my ex-husband into the recliner where he could never escape. I wouldn’t have actually done that.
Well I don’t think I would have.
But I entertained myself far too frequently with those kinds of thoughts. It wasn’t nice at all. The least I could do was take myself off the marrying market. Right?
Like it or not, I’m thinking we all need to do a lot more thinking about our own behavior.
Sherri Coner is an award-winning journalist and humor writer who speaks to women’s groups. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com.