There are certain things that make people joyful, and there is no reason for me to ever desire to kill that joy.
Take my mom for example. There are few things she desires in her life. One of those few things is fashion.
My mom loves quality clothes, loves catwalk culture, is the daughter of the 80s supermodels, and has a walk in closet full of clothes. She has the type of body that designers envision their clothes with rest on. She was the one who told me not to wear my pants on my hips because I would get a muffin top. I ignored her, so of course I was cursed with a muffin top. That’s what you get biiiiish.
So when I see my mom trying on clothes in the store and asking the store attendant in the dressing room which way the bow should be tied, I resist the urge to tell her that it is a bow and she can tie it however she pleases, because I know that THAT bow is important to her and wearing the dress the way it was thought to be worn is important to her.
Yet this is how my mind works:
In my mind, I am thinking how dare I be a slave to what the dress designer wanted. I will wear the bow however I see fit, I will not let them brainwash me into wearing the bow how they want me to wear it. GRRR. As you can see, I am actually making the bow into a much deeper issue than it is and simultaneously trying to simmer down my mom’s happiness. Yes, I have a great personality.
I feel like my reaction to the bow is symbolic of my sense of control. Even though I am saying that my mom shouldn’t care how the bow is tied, I am trying to control how she sees the bow. I want to control who my mom is when I can’t and shouldn’t be. My mom loves clothes, my mom was in her element, and I should have just let her live. When I watch her sew back some ripped fabric, or gingerly hold a satin dress, tell me that I can wear whatever I want from her closet, it’s all out of love.
When I think about it more deeper, was I actually embarrassed that my mom was happy? Was I embarrassed that she was enjoying herself to the fullest and asking for affirmation like a little kid in a candy shop? I guess so. What a joy I am!