Perception is reality. Sort of. This phrase is over used and
misunderstood.
For my entire life I projected emotions and ideas and
insecurities into the minds of everyone I have met. I haven’t eaten a meal in
public that I didn’t imagine the entire restaurant was critiquing. I haven’t shopped
for clothes without thinking the cashier was judging me for the size of clothes
I was buying. I distinctly remember shopping for jeans two years ago, and
realizing I was at the bottom of the
stack… mens jeans are always displayed in a stack, with the smallest
size on top, and the biggest size at the bottom… and I was buying the biggest
size of pants at the store. What was next? No pants? Was I one taco bender from
no longer being able to buy pants? FUCK!!! I haven’t stepped foot into a gym
without being sure that everyone was judging me… questioning my right to be
there among the fit.
Its an interesting juxtaposition to feel simultaneously
invisible, and also like the focal point of everything strangers do.
My entire life, I have been torn as to how much of my perception
was based in reality, and how much was me projecting my own insecurities. I
have been trying to be cognizant of this. I have been trying to give people the
benefit of the doubt, and not assume the negative perception, is their reality.
This goes for everything from the looks that fly around a room, to the verbal interactions
that happen day to day. Phrases can be as nebulous as a look. It is so easy to
get lost in your own negativity, and paint the rest of your interactions with
that tainted brush.. smear anger and sadness into your daily picture. I have
had 3 interactions this week that have shown me just how much of life is
influenced by our own perceptions.
-
Check in’s
I have not been writing as much the last 3 weeks. I
honestly didn’t realize I wasn’t. I work in sales and this last month was my
year end. I have been dedicated to wrapping up a few deals, as well as setting
up this year to start off fast with some early contracts. I am pretty good at prioritizing my life and applying time to what is most important. I haven’t slacked in my workouts… I have been
hitting the gym regularly, and eating well. I just haven’t been writing about
it. This being said, I don’t have the best track record of fortitude. It would
be easy to see how a slide in writing, would be due to a slide in my
dedication. During the past few days, I have had 41 messages/texts/emails to
check in to see how things are going (yes, I really counted)… to say that they
have noticed I am not writing, and ask if I was ok. This means a great deal to
me. I have often felt that I fit a role in people’s lives. I am a born jester.
I am a fucking good time.. but I am also the jolly fat man. I have felt that
some people have rooted against me. That people need a lovable, safe, nonthreatening
friend. But as my writing volume slowed, so many people reached out to check in
and make sure I was still dedicated and doing ok. Some of these people are
strangers… some are friends… and some are professional trainers who make no
money from my journey. How rad is that. It just goes to show you how much
people root for each other. My perceptions are not their reality. My
perceptions are ONLY my reality.
-
The Beyonce
Incident.
On Monday I was having a great
lifting session. I felt like a super hero. I was repping out weights that were
my PR’s just a few months ago. I could feel my blood coursing through my veins.
Near the end of the workout, I could feel my body starting to give out a bit.
At this point, ‘Single Ladies’ came on. Why did I never learn this dance? Why did
I never learn any pop music video dances? WTF have I done with my life?!?! ‘Every
little step’ by Bobby Brown… ‘Billy Jean’ by Michael Jackson… the mother
fucking Dougie!!!! Why do I not now any of these dances. As I pondered this
miscarriage of self-justice, I realized I was staring a murderous stare across
the gym. I am 5’10”, 250, and wear an oversized baseball hat pulled down low
across my face. If you didn’t know I am a passive guy, it would be easy to
assume that I am an asshole. The reason I realized I was mean mugging across
the gym, was because another guy was glaring back at me. He had his chest
puffed out, his brow ruffled, and he kind of shrugged his shoulders at me. I
realized “this guy thinks I am glaring at him… like I am posturing”… Jesus, if
only he knew that I was actually deep in thought about how I am going to have
to limber up my hips if I am going to pull off the single ladies dance. My very
next thought was, “I wonder how many times I have seen someone looking at me
sideways and felt shitty about myself, and they didn’t even know they were
doing it”. The truth is, the idea that strangers are judging us is incredibly narcissistic. Not every sideways glance is based in judgement of me.
-
Chris’s
Cabana Boy
I wrote about Chris before. Chris
is the embodiment of everything I hate. He is pretty, and tan, and endowed, and
ripped, and handsome, and he wears tank tops, and he is so happy.
When I wrote about Chris, I did so
from the angle of my own insecurities created a relationship arc that didn’t exist.
How he had everything I was working to have, tank tops included (although he
cant high five for shit… the last time he tried to high five me, I almost
passed out from how disappointed I was in him. BE BETTER) so I projected my own
jealousy on to him. In a twist of fate, Chris and I have become friends. He
even read the above post, and liked it. Turns out I was right. My disdain for him was 100% due to my unhappiness with
me. Chris is actually the type of guy who is always first in line to help
people. My post was accidentally about the perfect person in order to maximize
the impact of my intended message. I had spent so much time venting my
frustration onto him, and projecting insecurities at him, and it turns out he couldn’t
be a better guy. In fact, I have met a bunch of people through my new friendship
with Chris. There is a little clique of us now… Ty, Phil, Tom, Chris, Ryan… a group
of guys who lift together, discuss everything from weight lifting tips… to how
our aging peckers are starting to lack cooperation. That’s a real conversation we
had. Jesus, I bet those 5 guys own 200 tank tops between them. Fucking
tank tops. Anyway, this is a group of big strong gym guys, ages ranging from
early 30’s to late 40’s, discussing how testosterone replacement has changed
our lives. Hell, we also spend a lot of time at the pool, and in 2 months I
went from day dreaming about watching Chris get hit by a bus, to being the one
who applies sunscreen to his rippling cocoa colored back. I had labeled and judged these men as meat heads and idiots, but in fact, they are great guy... and once I let my guard down I was able to meet a group of people who have bettered my journey.
Its funny how little thought I have put into “perception is
reality”… my perception is only my reality. It wasn’t Chris’s reality. And conversely,
other people’s perceptions aren’t my reality. In fact… I don’t know that other
people have perceptions.. but if they did, I need it not to matter. My
perception needs to be my only reality.
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