Today's post is from West Lee, whom many of you may know from what he calls his "15 seconds" on Season 7 of The Bachelorette on ABC. What you don't know is that he is an up and coming blogger with a flair for storytelling and introspection. (Sound like anyone you know? Yup. :)) So I contacted him on Twitter and he graciously agreed to share a little with us here. Pretty sure that rocks.
Have you ever wished you’d die in a freak accident just to prove a point?
I found myself in this not-all-too-unfamiliar position recently. I was driving home from work, agonizing over my latest personal setback, and I found myself wishing I’d blow a tire at the exact moment I was crossing a bridge, causing my car to shoot off the edge and land in a fiery explosion on the rocks below.
Because that’d show her.
Maybe she’d come along in her car just after it happened and witness the scene. First she’d see the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulances. Then she’d notice all the other cars stopped, the crowd of people looking down from the bridge. She’d pull off just past the fracas and walk back. When she got to the edge, she’d see my car, and…wait, that’s not very likely. She never drives that way during rush hour.
Well, maybe she’d see it on the evening news. She’d just be walking in from the late shift at work, cleaning up the dead cockroaches littering her floor, and perhaps cooking herself some spaghetti. She’d flip on the television, and….dammit, she doesn’t have cable either.
Ok, so a friend of hers would witness the tragic scene as they were driving home, and…
Hmm, or maybe she’d read about it on Facebook…
Worst case scenario, she’d see one of my buddies out a few months later. Wondering why she hadn’t heard from me, she would ask how I’ve been. Eyes down, head shaking, he would fight back tears as he explained how I passed, perhaps even throwing in for good measure that I said to him the day before I died that I wished I had just one more night with her.
In that moment, she’d fall to her knees, look up at the sky, and scream ‘nooooooooo’ like they do in movies. It would be very Point Break, only without the pointless firing of the gun into the air. She’d realize how much I meant to her, and suddenly the error of her ways would be all too clear. Haha, oh yes, revenge would be mine.
Only, you know…I’d be dead. So I guess it’s kind of a hollow victory.
The thing is, I didn’t even really want to die…I was just tired. Tired of being judged. Tired of being under-appreciated. Tired of being ignored. I’d given so much of myself for so long, and it was beginning to seem like no matter what I did, she would never be mine the same way that I was hers.
So yeah, maybe meeting my untimely end via incineration would’ve made her appreciate what we had. But it wouldn’t exactly get me anything, except for maybe a few extra tears at my funeral.
And that’s when it dawned on me. Wishing to die just to prove a point is stupid. I like living. Even when life sucks, I like living, at least in comparison to the alternative. Besides, I’ve made WAY too many mistakes--I’d hate to leave this Earth only to find out I’d be spending eternity alongside some angry fellow with a pitchfork. Or worse…watching Lifetime.
The point is, if someone doesn’t appreciate you, it’s their problem, not yours.
Each of us is spectacularly unique, with an entire array of good qualities that make us worthy of love and appreciation. And sure, we all have our fair share of of foibles and idiosyncracies as well, but that’s what love is, isn’t it--devoting yourself to someone not just because you love their good traits, but because you find their bad ones endearing too?
What we have to realize is that in part because we’re all so unique, not everyone is going to be able to fully sync up with us. You’ll meet all kinds of people who come close to it, but only a limited few will look at you, the entire you--scars, scabs and all--and say ‘this one. I want this one.’
So maybe it means you have to be more choosy about who you allow into your life. Maybe it means you have to stand up for yourself. Or maybe, if you’re me, it means you have to say goodbye. It sucks, and it hurts, but hopefully it will open the door for better things down the road.
And hey, it’s better than exploding.