I used to be an unrepentant pessimist. True story.
For people who knew me in the Midwest, this is not news. I’ve known a lot of anger in
my short life. And it’s not that one day
I turned a leaf and suddenly started seeing roses; on the contrary, I made a
choice. And I wake up every morning
still making that choice: to try to show love instead of anger, (God help me) to
be slower to anger and faster to forgive, even to remember to serve others--especially
when it seems like a downer. Every day is a battle to strive to be a happy, open,
loving person.
I’m not there--the idea is honestly laughable, but neither
am I the same angry person I used to be.
Most days I fail in small, and often, very big ways. But, the bright side of my failures is that I
often learn something valuable through them—they are building blocks to making
better choices and spreading a little more love in the world.
Most days here aren’t easy in that way: the general populace
of Vienna (and often any large city) is cold and distant. A larger portion than
I’d like to admit is flat-out rude and an even smaller percentage (I’m not
talking about thugs, but wolves dressed in average-bodied clothing) boldly act
out in intolerance and hate. What’s worse; they feel they have the right
to.
Most days, I see at least some smattering of the
aforementioned offensive behavior and the initial challenge I face is to not
let it anger me. More than that, I feel
the intense need to somehow make up for these daily injustices by bringing a
little more love into the world. I really have no idea how to do this, other
than just trying to be nice…which is surprisingly hard in this city. Keeping a smile on your face is all well and
good, but when no one is even looking at it, it can be a bit
disheartening. And for the moment, let’s
just all-together rule out eye contact…unless it’s so another person can convey
that they disapprove of you. In that
case, I usually try to take advantage of the situation and smile broadly,
effectively angering this newfound urban adversary.
Can you see how one would be at a loss when the
basic building blocks of friendly behavior have been absolutely
demolished?
As a result, I have resorted to holding tight to even the smallest acts
of kindness I can manage on a daily basis: holding a door, winning a smile,
retrieving a fallen toy for a Mama who has surely already done it a dozen
times. My absolute favorite times out in
this city are with the girls because they bring out the most smiles—seeing Vienna
with my flippy-skirted entourage is an undisputed joy. The few cordial
conversations I’ve managed with strangers have all been a result of having
Audrey and Bailey break the ice. Without
those two crazy-haired children, this place would surely beat me into the
ground. I understand why these people,
without their own pocket full of joy, act this way. (At least most of the time…the
individuals who closely resemble Hitler, I just can’t wrap my mind around)
A lot of them are not happy.
And a lot of them enjoy that state of being; this is something I can
totally understand as a recovering pessimist.
But, much like an addict on the mend, I worry close presence to this undesirable
behavior might mean I’ll easily slip back into old habits while uttering the old adage:
"everyone else is doing it."
Luckily, being different is something I can cling to—I was one
of three girls in my entire high school who were pushing 6 ft. and, I can tell you, I was the only
one of them who was also a pudgy band geek who couldn’t ride a bicycle…or learn
how to properly apply makeup. ‘Different’
is a well-worn, comfortable skin for me to live in. It’s just that my particular brand of
'different' has always involved some kind of physical awkwardness, not: “Why are
you smiling?” Or: “What right do you have to the same sidewalk as me, you
average-looking person?” It’s quite a bit to wrap my mind around.
Loving Vienna…is unavoidable. There are just so many overwhelmingly
wonderful aspects of this city that totally make up for any of the things I’ve
been harping about today. (Not to mention
that I’m here with my three favorite people and I get to hang out with them all
the time.) But, loving the Viennese?
Now, there is a challenge worthy of someone as stubborn as I am. I have no idea how long we’ll be here or
whether it could ever be enough time for me to find some resolution to this internal
conflict. I’ve already learned a lot
about loving people in new ways since we’ve moved, but loving the people here, I
feel, will be one of my greatest trials while we’re abroad. And if that’s the worst thing I have to face,
then I think we’re doing just fine...Dandy, even.
How’s that for optimism?
I’m off to go spread more *enraging* rainbows and love.
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