The usual me is fairly compliant, agreeable and willing to please. I hate conflict and confrontation. If you say something either nosey, snarky, uppity or hurtful to me, I tend to ignore the remark to your face, (or your computer screen), because the only drama I want in my life is Grey’s Anatomy and re-runs of House or LOST. I will not fight or call you out. I don’t care who is right or wrong. I don’t deal.
Truth is, I’m a wuss.
Sometimes I even avoid making comments because I fear that you will think what I said was clueless, pointless or rude. In social media, I tend to hit the “like” button but say very little. No one argues with a “like” button much.
My need to please/stay out of trouble is coupled with a fear of rejection, and if I want to be all Child-Development-Theorist about it, I’d say it’s because of my perpetual adoptee status. Even though I resolved many of my “I-hate-being-adopted” issues back in 1987, the fact remains, that I’m an adopted person. That’s been a part of who I am since 1961 and cannot be reversed, no matter what I do. I searched for and found the birth family. It was extremely successful. (Not all adoptees have my good fortune, but I’m thankful every day of my life that I did.) I wrote a whole friggin’ book about how awkward it was being an adopted kid until the only pride I could derive from adoption was my success in searching/finding birth-family.
To connect with other adoptees, (and hopefully promote my book among “my people”), I joined a few Facebook adoptee groups. Oh my! I never realized what a crass, inappropriate little bi+@h image I projected!
Well, one sad person indicated so.
I thought I was expressing joy and positivity for overcoming many of my feelings of inadequacy that “adoptism” can spur. Apparently, while speaking casually to this on-line group, I introduced myself and described myself as having”gotten over” a lot of issues that used to hold me back.
Oh my goodness, the rage that caused in the group’s moderator!
“Don’t u evr tell us “get over it!’ She lashed back.
Whooooa! WTF? Huh?
Apparently this little group of sad, pissy people wanted to stay mad, resentful and cop an attitude toward anyone who expressed neutrality or, G-d forbid, new-found joy because their situation was better. It was the intent of this bunch to stay miserable and hateful toward the always evil, corrupt, self-serving industry of child-trafficking, which from their point of view, which was EVERY adoption agency, lawyer or social worker on the planet.
“So you don’t want to hear any success stories?” I tried to politely respond.
“Its never a sucess!!!!! You need to shut your ass up!”
I should have known better. The ignorant, mean chick couldn’t spell or punctuate.
I found a YouTube link to a scene in “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer”, where on the Island of Misfit Toys they are all sitting around a campfire weeping because they don’t fit in. I posted the link and commented, “Even among misfits, we are misfits if we have other opinions.”
She deleted me from the group.
I can rationalize all I want: Those are moronic people who wouldn’t want to read my book anyway. My book doesn’t deserve them. They wallow in self-pity and are toxic. It’s their loss, etc.
One fact remains. Unintentionally, I hurt someone’s feelings. I feel bad about that. My own worst fear: I made someone mad, and they rejected me. Weirder still because I seemed to trigger someone by showing positivity. Even if they were an ass, I upset someone and didn’t mean to.
Another fact remains. I responded to that little drama-mama with a picture and a comment. (I could have been a hell-of-a-lot nastier, but I went the cutesy route instead of cussing at least, plus I was trying to stand up for myself). I usually back away to my own island, but I’d taken one last stand for once.
At the same time, I know that what I did and what she did was no big deal in the grand scheme of Internet drama. Crazier things have happened, and I really didn’t break her back. Bad-spelling, Mean-Girl was probably already broken, and now she’s making a lifestyle out of acting this way to others because she sees differing opinions as a sign of personal rejection. I know I cannot teach a lesson or change her. She is who she is.
More than making money off a book sale, more than getting 1,000 likes for my author page, that day I only wanted to find some like-minded and similar-experienced people with the common element of being adopted who could discuss ideas sanely and honestly, both good and bad.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
My only regret was that I didn’t withdraw from the group before she cut me. They were jerks, but it still was a nasty bite to be rejected by people.