LONG MAY I REIGN
Heavy is the head that wears the crown and my neck is getting really sore. A trip to the chiropractor is long overdue, but what will I tell him? “Sorry my spine is a mess, I’ve been busy making people underestimate me!” It doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like I hoped. I guess my only way to recover is to change my ways, to give up my title. Pity.
I have spent most of my life as the Queen of the Disclaimer. Ending every statement with a self-deprecating counter statement so that I can, how should I say this, uh “cover my ass.” Over the last few weeks I’ve become awake to my disclaimer tendencies and am determined to change my ways. But before I jump into my midsummer resolutions, let’s unpack the epiphany and the problem.
As I played ultimate frisbee with acquaintances who probably won’t remember my name, a burst of self awareness rushed through me and memories of past disclaimers popped into my head like good ideas in the shower. I ran back and forth across a field and was annoyed that no one would throw the frisbee to me (I could probably turn this into a commentary on sexism in recreational sports, but that’s a conversation for another day). It occurred to me that I introduced myself into the game with phrases like, “Sorry I’m on your team” and, “Yikes, I’m really bad at frisbee.” See what I mean by disclaimers? I thought that might clear things up. Am I actually that bad at frisbee? No. So why did I go around telling everyone I was? Why would I undersell my own ability and set myself up for frustration?
Control. If I control the expectations of others, then I will never disappoint them (fellow enneagram 2s, I’m looking at you). Any disconnect between the truth and what I let others believe is in my hands. If I let someone think I’m unathletic then I am bound to impress rather than disappoint. But after a while, the disclaimers I give to the people around me start to become lies I tell myself too. Maybe I am bad at frisbee. Maybe my blog really is Not That Serious. On and on I go, telling myself that the things that are important to me are wholly unimportant to others.
The name of this blog is it’s own disclaimer. I noticed that when I would talk about creating this space to write and express myself, it was always followed with the comment, “Ya, but like it's not that serious. It’s just a silly idea.” And while it gave me a pretty dang good blog name (if I say so myself), I’m tired of downplaying my creativity. It may not be serious to you, the reader, but it’s serious to me. Writing and humor and graphic design and songwriting are all things that excite me.
I once read a quote that said, “You are not responsible for other people's expectations of you.” This simultaneously crushes my soul and releases me from bondage. It hurts because it means I have to unlearn old habits, which is never easy. It’s freeing because I can let go of the control I cling to. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m done disclaiming myself and my abilities. I am giving myself permission to disappoint others and the freedom to let the important things be important.
Short may I reign.
Don’t forget, it's just Not That Serious. Or maybe it is.
Bridget Walton