There are several times in your life where you will want to know if something you have in your possession is authentic. Otherwise, the value of it drastically changes. Or your decision to have it in your possession in the first place changes. If you bought for instance a coin, which was supposed to be rare. And it was supposed to come with a certificate of authenticity. You would probably not purchase this coin, without this proof, or this documentation. The same with a car, a house, sports memorabilia, etc. You get my point I hope. Whatever it is, hell, even pets, we want pedigree papers on their authenticity.
The only papers of authenticity we come with personally are our birth, our origin. And even that is sometimes debatable. Sure we have some that prove and show our worth or value in dollars, but that isn’t something you can really put on a piece of paper is it? And normally when you meet people for the first time they don’t hand you a spreadsheet with all of this pertinent information on it. These are things you learn, if you so desire, over time. What a person loves, what makes them laugh, what they spend their money on, how they save their money, what they value, what they don’t value, how they treat people, how they don’t treat people, especially children, what kind of music makes them move and what kind of music moves them to tears, or does music move them at all. My point is we don’t know an authentic person from a fraud when we first meet them. And sometimes a person’s true colors take a great deal of time to unfold.
Before everyone gets excited about trying to figure out who the person is in my life that I just recently realized is a fraud, save your energy, this isn’t about a specific event or person…it’s just about learning things as I get older. And asking myself what things are most important in my relationships with people.
It’s not a secret the holidays are hard for me. Always have been, always will be. They were when I had two married parents, and I was childless and single. They were when I had two separated parents, still childless and single. They were worse when I had two divorced parents after 40 years, again with the no children and single. And I was pretty sure hard wasn’t the correct word to describe anything that I was feeling when I went through the first one having one parent dead, knowing he would never see me with children and he would never spend a holiday with me when I wasn’t alone.
It’s also not a secret that after I lost my father, my social life drastically changed. Good, bad, who’s to say or judge and I don’t really care who says or judge’s, it just changed…death forever changes you. It creeps in when you are laughing and happy and says, hey, remember me, and don’t forget. Or when you think you have some peace and quiet and can accept the reality of it, something or someone will upset the calm that you have and you will remember that you have experienced a profound loss.
I am incredibly different from most people I know. And maybe some of my acquaintances would disagree…but that’s why they are acquaintances and not friends. My true friends will tell you it’s the truth. Different yes. I do not, cannot it, will not, possess the skill to be someone I am not. I don’t know how. I am not programmed that way…I know there are times Sister wishes I could pretend to be, but I can’t. If you put me in a room full of 20 people for one hour and then when that hour is up, change the people and put 20 different people in the room, I am the exact same Tiffany I was with the first 20 people. I have nothing to prove to any of them, except to treat them the exact way I want to be treated, which is like a human being.
I remember at my first big job out of college, the first time they told me the CEO was coming down to work out. Ummm ok. “Does the whole place have to evacuate or something?” “No but he likes a certain treadmill that’s in front of a certain TV, on a certain channel, and the music needs turned off and he needs two towels and make sure his water is cold.” “Ummmmm, does he pay more for his membership?” “No Tiffany, he is the CEO.” “But he pays the exact same fee as the janitor, right?” “Tiffany, please just do the job as we asked you to do.” “Oh, I will do it, but it’s not because I agree with it, because it goes against every fiber of my being. Unless he bought all this equipment and he sweats gold that I need to collect in buckets, his damn dollar has the exact same value as the guy who just got hired to sort mail. And I really can’t work for people with this kind of philosophy.” I wasn’t asked to get ready for his arrival again. To be honest I don’t know that he worked out that much.
My point and my philosophy are simple. I do not change to accommodate the group of people I happen to be around. If I have to, then something is wrong. Either with me or the group of people I am hanging around. Authenticity has never been as important as it is to me right now and I am not really sure why. I am sure my therapist can tell me. But at least daily I am disappointed to learn that someone I thought was or could be really isn’t. And maybe I shouldn’t blame them; maybe it’s just not in the cards for some people. It’s like breathing for me, to be who I truly am. And maybe that is scary to be so raw and honest…but it’s scary to me to not be.
One of the fastest ways to piss me off, if you really want to, is tell me I over analyze. Or that I feel too much or think too much. If you really want to rub me the wrong way, start off with that and you won’t have to worry about going any further. How do you humanly, honestly tell someone they feel too much? Maybe it’s to make up for those who don’t feel enough.
Anyway, wouldn’t it be great…if people came with certificates of authenticity? To save us all time. Some of our greatest possessions, our greatest assets are our relationships…we devote tremendous amounts of time to them. It would be nice to know an authentic one right out of the gate, so you could know its true value.
