Seriously, Universe… What Am I Doing Wrong?

Apparently, I never learn.

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Promo X Cold Shoulder Plain

Only on rare occasions am I ever tempted to feel as though I might just get on top of things.

Other days, like today, I realise yet again just how little most people value me, or anything I do.

Seriously, universe, what am I doing wrong?

I work hard, I’m a loyal friend, and I care more about people than most of them will ever realise. It’s true that I don’t come in the smallest package with the sleekest, glossiest wrapping, but if I’m given the choice of someone who “fits an image” or someone who will both help me and defend me or die trying, I know which person I’d pick to have on my team. I’m not perfect, but who is?

So, tonight I’ve spent a few hours trying to think through and process how I feel and why, In that process, the words of one of my own poems came back to me. I wrote ‘Cold Shoulder’ on a previous occasion when other people’s behaviour left me feeling a similar way.

COLD SHOULDER

Many years I’ve lived on the Cold Shoulder
An inhospitable, stony place –
Where there’s little but frosty silence,
No allowance for comfort or grace.

The chill wind of indifference
Cuts the air without making a sound,
Skittering icy flakes of apathy
And leaves’ skeletons over the ground.

A fine specimen of resilience,
I’m a fine diamond in the rough,
A survivor of hostile conditions
Where life is invariably tough.

I suffer no delusions of love –
For that loss I have frequently wept;
But knowing I don’t matter at all
Is the hardest of truths to accept.

Weary of relentless erosion,
I implore the stone lords for reprieve,
But there is no reward for devotion
To those in whom you don’t believe.

Let them preach not to me of salvation
When they hold all the power in their hands
To inflict such complete desolation –
One could never meet all their demands.

So I remain here on the Shoulder
In this treacherous, heartless place:
Although frigid, this landscape is honest,
And each rock only has the one face.

©2017 Joanne Van Leerdam

 

This is not new territory for me. I have survived every other “kick in the head”, and I’ll survive this one, because I refuse to lay down, shut up and die. And I’ll make all seven people who do actually care about me proud in the process… again.

It does make me wonder, though, why I fall into that same trap of assuming that anyone else ever actually tries to see my worth, or cares about it.
Apparently, I never learn.

 

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‘Cold Shoulder’ is published in ‘The Passing Of The Night’
by Joanne Van Leerdam.

How to wait for someone without being bored.

Some people find waiting for others really annoying. I consider it to be a chance to stop and observe people and the things they do, or think about things, or send a quick update to Facebook or twitter. If there is nothing better to do, I’m quite capable of amusing myself – I am, after all, enormously funny.
This afternoon, for example, I was sitting in the main street of town waiting for my chauffeur (aka husband) to meet me. I smiled at the sight of the man who was standing on a ladder to wash the sign hanging outside the front of his shop, and holding onto that same ladder with his belly over the top of the ladder so that he had both hands free. Now there’s a problem solver! I was tempted to take a photo, but that would identify both the man and his shop, which would be quite politically incorrect of me since I don’t know him at all.

Ten minutes later, because I am so refined and politically correct, I performed my “internal facepalm” (where I am yelling “Oh man!!! Are you serious?” and facepalming quite vigorously on the inside, but remaining calm and collected on the outside as though nothing at all were happening) as the same gentleman wrote advertisements on his shop window for “ART SUPPLY’S” and various other special items.
Then I noticed the sign below the door of a nearby vacant shop. It read “WATCH THE STEP”.

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I sat there for 45 minutes, and that step didn’t do a thing. I have to say, that step wasn’t anywhere near as interesting as watching a man hold onto a ladder with his belly.