Monkey down a friend

A sad Monkey writes today, after ending a 30yr friendship rather suddenly this morning. I have to acknowledge that I reacted to what I perceived as an allusion to my mother, from whom I've been estranged going on 10 years now. I think I'm writing this blog A) to vent, and B) to question whether or not I overreacted.

Our mothers were friends since we were kids, she a couple/few years older than I. As an only child, I always saw her as a big sister type... even referring to her as my "pseudo-sister". A couple days ago, she posted a birthday message to Ronald Reagan... who's been dead for [I'm too lazy to look up how many] years... and that she "missed" him. As is typical for me, I commented: 'Did you miss the Alzheimer's too?'

What followed was an increasingly hostile series of comments from her, challenging my opinion of said dead president. I tried pointing out that my goal was humor and naught else; instead she engaged me again and ended with: 'Passive aggressive much?' Um... no. That's what I remember about Reagan... that his perceived cognition, or lack thereof, was ripe for satire. So I made a funny and somebody got uppity.

One of the primary reasons I don't speak to my mother is specifically because she's passive aggressive in an emotionally manipulative way. I don't need that in my life so I don't have that in my life. I would submit that I've spent years undoing the neuroses inflicted on me by my parents (as do we all, or so I imagine...) and for this person... who actually knows my mother... to throw that particular invective at me...? I was blown away.

Unfortunately for my wife, I actually enjoy confrontation. I'm good at arguing, even enjoying it if for no other reason than I usually win. To be clear, I'm not talking about fighting. Fighting is arguing when you're angry, which I can do without entirely. But arguing can be a good time... if you have an opinion. About politics and Reagan... I. Don't. Care. Nothing could have less impact on my life, so why would I argue about either topic. But that makes me passive aggressive? I'm sticking with nuh uh.

So, did I overreact? Rhetorical question, because really it doesn't matter. The friendship is over, such as it was (mostly FB comments back and forth). But I've gotten to a point where I'm trying to keep people in my life, not discard them as I've done fairly easily in the past. And someone who pushes my buttons, intentionally or not, is not someone I want to keep. Hence, a sad Monkey.

~NCMSW?

Not a humble Monkey

A couple times over the last week on a certain networking site, I've seen posts about the 7 Traits of "Real Men". I detest lists from former-Cosmo employees, but I generally agreed with most of them, save one: humility. Mind you, I have a long history with this word. Of people in positions of authority trying to cram it down my throat. Silly me, I want to understand why...

My dictionary defines humility as follows: "a modest or low view of one's own importance". And this is a good trait to have? It's not surprising to see the word modest used, which itself is defined as: "unassuming in the estimation of one's abilities or achievements." Modesty I can get behind; a view of one's abilities that lacks arrogance. But humility just seems like underselling yourself and I'm not sure I see the point in that. Ergo, a "real" man has a low view of his own importance? Really?

Not surprisingly, I have a theory about humility and why it's valued. Because sheeple are petty and insecure. These people can't stand the idea of someone being better than them in some aspect; they feel threatened and will frequently react with hostility. News flash! There are people who are prettier, smarter, faster, and... oh yeah... sometimes just plain better than you.

On a completely unrelated note, my IQ puts me at the low end of "highly gifted". Not a genius, but smarter than the average bear. Any reaction to that? What if I gave you the actual number? Probably not, as most of the people I know (and who might actually read this blog) are not only fairly bright too but seem secure in themselves enough to not be threatened. But I've encountered people who can't ignore my intelligence and have treated me poorly as a result.

I was asked once: "You think you're smart, don't you?" My answer: "I am smart." Was I bragging? No, just answering the question as accurately as I could (not that I'm compulsive about answering questions at all... nope). To me, it's not an opinion but a piece of information with (frankly) a wealth of evidentiary support. Where does humility play into that question? Should I have answered: "Well, gee whiz, I'd like to think so!", followed by a Goofy laugh? What value is there in that answer?

So by putting my IQ out there, by refusing to obscure my intelligence... do I lack humility? Probably. Am I not a real man? Ask my wife. Either way, it's an unassuming estimation of my abilities, as that number came from some standardized test I took in 2nd grade, not from me. But I'm proud that I lack humility. I've worked hard to develop whatever innate abilities and acquire the skills I have, to the extent I have, and I fully intend to own every one of them. And frankly, if I were humble and downplayed my skills, I'd be someone else entirely... not the useful AND ornamental Monkey you know and love.

And finally, ladies, make no mistake: You will never look twice at a man who doesn't think he's important or that he matters. Confidence has won you over at some point and will continue to do so again and again. So please enough with the lists describing "real" men... we know who we are and don't need a list to confirm it.

~NCMSW?

This Monkey Hurts

I have fibromyalgia. Not an easy thing to say publicly. Admitting a flaw is easy; a flaw is something that can be fixed or corrected. But admitting a weakness is something else entirely. A weakness identifies you as less fit to survive, an admission with which I've had to cope since receiving a diagnosis last April.

Read the description at the link I gave. Fairly accurate; in fact, most of that page applies to me. I'll spare you the litany of specific aches and pains I experience on a daily basis, if for no other reason that my fingers would cramp before I finished typing it.

The pain started when I was in high school, though until recently I could usually push through most of it. I'd go see doctors asking why I hurt so much at such a young age. The typical response: eat more vegetables and drink more water. Um... no.

After I moved to Portland, I started seeing my wife's naturopath (who, by the way, is frackin' awesome!). It took a while and a few blood tests, but she pinpointed that at some point I had contracted mononucleosis... but never got sick. Instead, the virus lingered and caused damage to my organs and how they function incrementally over a couple decades. The virus is gone now, but the damage will take time to undo.

One of the few treatments with some effect is cupping. Imagine the glass part of a snow globe, jam a flame inside, then press against the skin. The heat creates a vacuum in the cup, which results in major suction against your skin. This pulls the muscles apart and helps the body release toxins. I'd usually fall asleep midway through as my muscles relaxed and woke up covered in perfectly circular welts. Sometimes they would blister from the amount of toxins being released. Gross, but part of living with this condition.

Am I writing this post seeking sympathy and compassion? While appreciated, such displays only draw attention to my weakness, something I typically prefer to avoid. So why am I writing it? To be honest about my life, for starters. I'm tired of hiding my pain and, really, it's gotten to the point that I can't anymore. Second, to put it out there and be a voice for people with fibromyalgia. Specifically, to show that no matter how detrimental the pain, a happy life can be had. And lastly, so I can stop being asked: Are you ok? The answer is always no, so I either have to lie to be polite or risk annoying someone who wasn't interested in hearing anything other than "Fine!".

But I'm a sympathetic and compassionate person, you tell me... what am I supposed to say? Easy. Give me shit. Call me an old man. Make fun of me limping. Make me... laugh. Laughing produces endorphins which reduce the pain. If you've met my wife, you can now clearly see that I'm just using her for her laugh, which comes easy and often and is largely responsible for the happy life I have. (You could go Uncle Jim's route, but not everyone's that cool, so stick with humor.)

So go out there and to show your support, DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES give your loved one with fibromyalgia a hug. They'll remember it later when they're shopping for your birthday present...

~NCMSW?