The Day I Got Mean
2024-08-24T18:40:28-04:00I squeak like a sick duck with each step as my rubber boots meet the wet dock, which is a little slippery. I’m bundled up with a warm fake-fur-lined cap, wearing my thickest red-and black-buffalo check shirt and a down coat. I’m determined to gather as much “dock time” as possible in spite of this cold front. The intense breeze is making me shiver, and my hands are stinging from the cold, red and brittle. I keep rubbing them between sentences to keep warm. The sky is dim, clouds loom overhead ready to dump another storm, and hints of fall color are sneaking into the trees while goldenrod is popping up back by the old log boathouse. It’s starting to feel like an early fall, though forecasters assure the return of summer any moment.
Seasons
Life would be boring without seasons. When I first moved to Florida as a teen, I thought it might be odd having one season year round, but locals there know the difference between the seasons; there isn’t as much sameness in the weather as you’d think. I think God’s plan has been to breed the new with spring, enjoy the joy of summer, watch it start to die out with fall, and see it all freeze and deteriorate with winter. Though I prefer warm weather over cold, I love cold, rainy or snowy days when I can put on my warm clothes, sit by a fire, and sip hot tea or soup. It makes those days special. And just about the time we’ve had enough, something new comes along.
I never realized it before, but businesses have seasons. We have seasons of new growth, seasons to enjoy the fruits of our labor, seasons when pruning is necessary or when the leaves or wheels fall off, and seasons when we have to hunker down and get through it.
Families also have seasons. Jobs have seasons. Even artists have seasons. (For Picasso, it was a blue period between 1901 and 1904.) Sometimes seasons happen naturally, and sometimes they are forced on us. But seasons always result in change and should be embraced.
The Hard Stuff
It took me decades to realize that embracing the hard stuff is the most important thing you can do. Just being determined to get to the other side of it no matter what, knowing the sun will come up another day.
I can’t believe the hard stuff I hear about that friends and readers share. Some of it is so unbearable, I wonder if I could get through it. And others who know about my own hard stuff wonder how we got through it. You just do. Right?
What season are you in right now?
Are you in a moment of joy and elation, a moment of new growth, new things? Maybe it’s a season where change is necessary? Or perhaps it’s a time when unfortunate change is forced on you.
I’ve noticed patterns.
There are people I know who are always in a funk, always complaining about their circumstances, never really very happy. Usually angry about something or someone. Always blaming others. Never have been happy, never will be.
And there are others who have the weight of the world on them. Their problems are almost insurmountable, their fear and their pain is real, and yet they attack each day with joy, with a smile, with a positive outlook. They don’t complain, and don’t even share their pain without prompting.
Is it DNA? Upbringing? A medical disorder?
A Very Mean Person
My Great-Grandma Berry was miserable, always complaining, always controlling, never happy, never satisfied. I never saw her smile. If you looked up the “B word” in the dictionary, they would have her picture. She tried her hardest to make everyone around her miserable. I was only 8 or 10 when she died, and I loved her because I was supposed to love my great-grandmother. But even I knew that I did not want to be around her. But was it because she lost her son Everett in his early 30s to a sudden heart attack, three decades before I was born? I don’t know if she smiled or was happy before that moment and that brought her down and kept her down, or if she was always down.
Her husband, my Great-Grandpa Berry, was the happiest, most joy-filled, most grateful person I ever met. He was funny, had a spring in his step, and made everyone around him feel better about themselves. No matter what was going on in his life, he managed to stay positive. He too lost his son. Why did he keep a positive outlook?
My grandmother, his daughter, was like him, deeply happy and joy-filled no matter what, even though she lost her brother. And my dad, her son, was also that way, though he lost his uncle.
Honestly, I cannot relate. I’ve never walked in their shoes. Though I’ve experienced some pretty awful things with one of my kids, including a sudden unexpected heart attack at 17, which he survived.
Tell Me Why This Happens
Why do these things bring some of us down and not others? Why do some people stay down and blame others, and always have a black cloud over their heads? I’m not suggesting that upbeat people don’t grieve, of course they do, but they don’t wear it on their sleeve.
Perhaps some expert reading this will have an answer. But I think it’s a choice.
When I Got Mean
As a teen, I went through a miserable time in my life. I did not like myself, and my friends abandoned me because I was trying to be someone other than myself, lying to them, and probably being negative. I blamed everyone else for my problems. I ended up losing all my friends at the time, and It took me going to live with my aunt and uncle in Arizona to pull me out of it, partly because I saw myself in another relative out there who was behaving the same way. I did not like what I saw and vowed to change who I had become. I’ve never looked back.
Some Instagram philosopher says that if you find three things to be grateful for before bed every night for 21 days, you’ll become a positive person. Is it true? I don’t know.
I can stand on stage and do silly things and entertain thousands of people with no fear, probably because I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I’m not concerned about being judged. I’m one of the happiest people I know, almost always upbeat and happy. Even when our son was dying, I trusted that he would be OK. I choose to have an upbeat attitude. In the beginning I worked hard at it, and now it comes naturally.
What about you?
What have you become?
Are you happy being who you’ve become?
Is the season of your life affecting how you respond to life?
As the classic Bob Newhart routine says… Stop it.
Decide who you want to be, and become that.
Eric Rhoads
PS: Speaking of seasons … My summer season will wind down in a few weeks and I’ll be off to begin a busy season.
In September I’m hosting Pastel Live online, the largest online pastel training event in the world.
Then I’m hosting Fall Color Week, my fall artist retreat, which is a week of painting and play. Though it was sold out, we just managed to get 10 more rooms. As of Friday, there were only four rooms left.
Then I’m going to Lake Tahoe on a planning trip for the Plein Air Convention, which takes place in May. By the way, we just announced two amazing pre-convention workshops, one with Scott Christensen and another with the great watercolorist from Australia Joseph Zbukvic.
From there I return to San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, and points in between for various meetings and to be one of the judges for the Laguna Plein Air Painters Association (LAPAPA) show. Looking forward to seeing everyone on the left coast.
Oh, and hold this date: February 8-16. I’ve got something new I’ll be announcing soon.