6-29-06

The High Road, or Cowardice?
I decided, tonight, not to visit a forum I used to frequent.  It was becoming too much trouble.  Specifically, one of the mods took it upon himself to unleash all of his issues upon me, to wait, like a trapdoor spider, until I had committed what he considered to be a misuse of one of the forums (regardless of whether I was responding to someone else or not) and attack.  His attacks were always public.  His attacks were always insulting, as if he were an instructor losing patience with a slow child.  I got tired of trying to understand what he had against me, and left.
          It's not really a big deal.  It's just an Internet forum, one of millions, and the 20 or 30 regulars there are unlikely even to note my absence.  But it's endemic of what I perceive as a larger problem within myself.  You see, all my life I have battled to carve a place for myself.  Not a place in the sun, not a place high on the mountain, just any place not on the outside.  Someplace I could stay.  For a variety of reasons—my nomadic upbringing as an Air Force Dependent, my arrogance, my low self-esteem—I always seem to find myself on the outside.
          I have always fought tooth and nail to make it to the inside without losing hold of who I am.  When someone attacked me I lashed back with all of the venom I could muster.  But, some time in the last ten years or so, I lost the will to fight.  And I wonder, when I choose not to attack, am I avoiding doing harm to others or am I running away?
          I stopped having anything to do with a theater I enjoy because the Artistic Director made it clear how much more she would enjoy my absence.  It took me two years to catch on.  It can be difficult to read hatred in sunny smiles and friendly greetings.  But actions speak loudly, and her actions spoke very loudly indeed.  It was not enough for her not to allow me the opportunity to direct, even though I (and this is where I may be encountering the duplicity of others) have been told I am an excellent director (I had already directed two shows for the theater and both had earned a profit).  She couldn't simply tell me that she would rather I not direct.  No, she very intentionally and without friendly intent, accepted my request, and then promised to let me know when the positions were filled, even if (especially if) I was not to be given the opportunity.  I have had offers from other theaters to direct, but this theater was my priority, and I would not accept another offer if there were a chance to direct there.  She knew this; she knew because I had told her.  But she couldn't take three minutes out of her busy day to shoot me an e-mail explaining that the theater would not be able to use me that year.  Two years in a row.
          Message received Mrs. L—.
          So I tell people I'm in exile.  Which is, in itself, an annoying form of passive-aggressiveness.  I'm not in exile, I'm just too old and lazy to walk away, and too tired to fight any more.  It's exhausting and pointless to push against a wall, especially when no one seems willing to show you a door.
          And there's the question.  When I don't fight.  When I don't cut deep and hard, as I know I can, am I taking the high road?  Am I really doing it to avoid hurting someone else's feelings?
          Or am I just a coward?