Do you ever find yourself in the middle of Righteous High Drama? When your words are lofty and justified and you feel so sure that you are speaking the Very Truths of the Universe and everyone around you had better listen up? And take notes? I do. It’s rare; it happens just enough to make me wonder if I should audition for community theater. This part of me most often comes out to play when I feel misunderstood or frustrated with limits. Sometimes I feel a little embarrassed afterward, but for the most part, I enjoy the sense of swinging into a larger version of myself and visiting there for a short while. I wouldn’t want to live there but I enjoy the view during my short visits.
Even back in 1986 I was channeling my inner royalty.
I had a visit from my inner Righteous High Drama Queen just the other day. She came out after an acquaintance called me out for being too happy. That’s right – too happy. (I can feel my Righteous High Drama Queen kicking in a little just thinking about it.) This acquaintance had been recounting the story of a personal struggle and stopped herself to say, “Oh, Linda, can you even understand? Everything is always so easy for you. You’re always happy.” I was stunned. I felt dismissed and misunderstood. I felt two-dimensional. It felt like my willingness to experience and lead with ease had led her to believe I never experienced suffering and that my road has always been smooth. Worse, I felt that this woman was disappointed that I wasn’t coming along for the ride in the misery car of humanity. (I know, more drama.)
I know she is having a really tough year and I was mindful about letting her know that I understood how hard she was having it. And I also let her know that while I try to lead from a place of ease, I was able to understand her sorrow. I don’t think she was able to hear me; you know how contracted and deaf we can get when we are in pain. I left this conversation feeling compassion for my friend but also feeling misunderstood.
My Righteous High Drama Queen made her appearance afterward, when I called my old friend Laura and recounted my experience – minus names and details, of course; I focused on the feeling behind the exchange. Laura and I have known each other since our wild, heady 20’s and she knows so much of what makes me me. It felt important to talk to someone who knew more about my dimensionality, about the joys and sorrows that had helped formed me, the true and terrifying paths I’d dared to carve when the pre-scripted paths held no meaning for me or didn’t have space for the likes of me. Once I had Laura’s attention, my Righteous High Drama Queen came out in full force. I found myself saying something like this: “I’ve been creating my own path, bushwhacking for decades, to create a path of my own, a path of integrity where I could reach for and experience freedom and happiness.” My voice now rose to thunderous levels, replete with a quiver, as I said: “If anyone thinks carving out my own path has been easy, they should feel the heft of my machete in their hands!”
(Bushwhacking for decades? The heft of my machete? You gotta love the Righteous High Drama Queen.)
Laura and I chuckled a bit about my dramatic choice of words and dug down a little into the message they contained: creating a path of one’s own can sometimes feel lonely and isolating. Part of creating your own path means moving forward at your own pace; and knowing that not everyone can come along for the ride.
I choose not to lead with pain, but that doesn’t mean that pain has not helped to shape me and teach me. Or that I don’t understand the pain of others. When my struggling new friend has found some space and peace in her life again, I will try to reopen this dialogue with her. It may not be important for her to know the struggles I’ve faced, but I do want her to understand, if possible, the beauty of reaching for happiness.