How to Swallow Your Pride, part 2

Late last night I wrote a health post for a different site. I was tired and I just wanted to go to bed. But I am paid to write so many posts a week. So I wrote it even though my eyes burned.

This morning, someone—let’s call her Jane–left this comment on the post:

This is a thought out short article which causes one to think of the possibility. However, your editing is lacking, which causes ME to think you possibly have not done much research into the correct spelling of the terms you quote. The word is spelled “emphysema”, not “emphasema”. Its obvious to me you were spelling phonetically.

Now I am going to walk you through my thought process. I am not doing this to get you angry at Jane. I am only doing this so you can use my experience to walk yourself through the same process. Jane is a fine human being. She deserves no scorn.

But scorn her I initially did.

My first thought was something along the lines of, “For the love of Pete.” Except it was somewhat less politically correct than that.

My second thought was to explain to Jane that I had written the post in question late at night. If she had been as tired as I was when I wrote the post, I’m sure she would have misspelled more than just emphysema. Emphysema is not an easy word to spell after all. I’m quite sure plenty of people get it wrong when it comes up in spelling bees.

My third thought was to inform Jane that the word “which” is always preceded by a comma. She got it right in one spot and not in the other, which caused me to suspect that she knew this rule and was just being sloppy. Sheesh.

My fourth thought was to tell her that readers like her will eventually ensure that no one has the courage to write anything. After all, it was only a day ago that I read a review of Project: Happily Ever After that questioned how anyone’s marriage could possibly fall apart after having “just” one child and how anyone who wore a size 6 could not possibly have a bad sex life. This review even seemed to question the character of all people who dare to wear a size 6.

It should have made me laugh. But it didn’t. Let me tell you. After I read that review, I felt like a complete and utter loser. I thought that I should have been a better mother, better wife and better in the sack. I was a sorry excuse for a human being and a memoirist, wasn’t I?

Then a wonderful human being sent me a very nice email telling me that she cried her way through the book and thanking me for making her feel normal.

I thanked her for making me feel normal, too.

And then Jane had to go and ruin my normal feelings by calling me a poor researcher and bad speller and putting me right back into the “I am a loser” place all over again.

I so wanted to give Jane a piece of my loserish mind. I stepped away from my computer. I drank some tea and I attempted to find some humility. After all, I’d just written about the importance of swallowing one’s pride. I figured I better practice what I preach.

So I reminded myself of the following:

1.     Anger generates anger. If I responded to Jane’s anger about my misspelling with more anger of my own, I would accomplish nothing other than cause both of us to continue to feel just as miserable.

2.     Anger arises from a deluded view of the world. I was angry because I thought Jane had lashed out at me personally. In reality, it’s a lot more likely that Jane never intended to hurt my feelings at all. I’m guessing she wrote her comment because she feels powerless and unappreciated. She felt the need to point out the spelling error not to make me feel badly, but to make herself feel better. It was even likely that she may have just been trying to be helpful and didn’t realize just how sensitive I am.

3.     I tried to feel compassion for poor Jane. I’ve felt powerless before. I know how that feels. It’s not good.

4.     No one feels better when they hear excuses. If I told Jane I made a mistake because I was tired, she’d just lecture me some more, probably about how I should write my posts earlier in the day.

5.     I asked myself, “What would make Jane feel better?”

Then I typed this response:

Thanks for pointing that out. I’ve fixed the error. Thanks for keeping me on my toes. Spelling has always been a challenge for me. I’ve always valued the expertise of a good editor.

And that’s the truth. I’ve never been a good speller. Just ask my mother. She can tell you lots of funny stories about all of the words I’ve misspelled over the years. I’m also not very good at addition or multiplication. Just ask my kid. She’s always asking me what times what equals what. I always tell her to go find a calculator.

But this doesn’t make me a bad person. We’re all bad at something. That’s what makes us human.

I wrote this post because it applies to more than just Jane. It also applies to marriage. When you are feeling hurt and you want to lash out at your spouse, you can ask yourself similar questions and they might help you get to a similar place.

I also wrote this post because part of learning how to swallow your pride rests in becoming comfortable with what you are bad at. If you are comfortable with your weaknesses, you’ll be less likely to feel hurt, vulnerable and sensitive when others call them out.

What are you bad at? Get comfortable with it and share it with others in the comments.

Note: I REALY am going to continue with the Group Therapy posts. I just felt super inspired to write this.

Note 2: There is a typo in this post. The first person to find it gets a free signed copy of my friend Ruth’s excellent novel Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough.

Note 3: There might be more than one typo in this post. After all, I am human and it’s late and I’m a terrible speller and spell check doesn’t always have my back. There is only one typo that is intentional. The rest are accidental.

UPDATES

• Belle magazine reviewed PHEA, calling it “moving and often hilarious.” You can read that review here by looking at the PDF version of the magazine. It’s on page 23.
• The Long Haul Project ran another snipped from their interview with me and my husband. In this one I talk about how I get myself in the mood for sex.