Please, please don't tell anyone...

The other day one of my children (who shall remain nameless) accidentally broke a lamp and immediately cried out "I'm sorry!  It was an accident!  Please, please don't tell anyone!"  For her this experience felt utterly humiliating. I kissed away her tears, assured her I wasn't in the slightest bit upset and that it was seriously no big deal.  Then we cleaned it up together.  End of story.  And I started thinking... about the times in my life when I've felt embarrassed or *gasp* maybe even humiliated.  I started thinking about one time in particular...

To really get this story you'll need a little history.  Back in the early days of college  I met a boy, Jon.  We became friends.  Friends with potential.  He left to serve an LDS mission overseas and broke my heart when he decided to stop writing.  His feelings for me were a distraction from serving the Lord.  I understood..but holy cow!  Ouch!  Here's  the tricky part.  His family lived close to me and over time I fell in love with them.  During the two years he was away, these relationships grew and I really, truly loved them with all my heart.  Although I'll never regret that, it was a mistake.  Never love the family more that the boy.  It spells disaster.  So then the boy returned and after a while we became engaged.  During our engagement he met a girl he decided he liked better and our engagement ended.  Painfully.  Humiliatingly.  Because, you see, I lost him but I also lost his family.  They married rather quickly and I felt totally and completely expendable.  Replaced.  Many dark days followed and then, like it always does, life went on.

 

Ok, so here's the Seinfeld worthy part.  About a year later I was trying on some clothes in a dressing room.  Three girls came in and took the dressing rooms beside me.  I heard them talking and suddenly realized who they were.  It was Jon's sister,  replacement wife Martha, who was now expecting, and one of my friends from work who knew my drama but apparently had made friends with Martha and was now bad mouthing me as if she didn't know me.  Traitor.  They were laughing about a time when I cut Jon's hair and accidentally shaved a bald spot into the side of his head.  Granted, the story was pretty funny.  And considering how badly our relationship ended, I'm kinda glad I gave him that bald spot.  Wished it'd been bigger.  But that aside, in the moment, I felt like dying.  I sat in the dressing room for about an hour after they left.  Dying.  And then, like it always does, life went on.

That was then.  If it had happened now? I can tell you it would have end differently.  I think I would have laughed.  Maybe sauntered out and said hello.  Taken a bow and let the full impact of the situation sink in.

So I've decided I like getting older.  Time changes things and takes the edge off.  I don't get embarrassed much these days.  I just laugh and remember that life goes on.  I wipe away any tears, tell myself it's seriously no big deal, clean up the mess and move on.  End of story.