On getting snubbed…

A few days ago, I got snubbed. I was ignored, dismissed, and left to feel small. The cold shoulder in pure form.

I was talking to my friend ‘Jan.’ As we were chatting ‘Constance’ started to walk towards us. I don’t know Constance well, but we’ve seen each other around. Constance walks up to our conversation, and then BAM – Constance snubs me. She starts chatting with Jan, completely ignoring me. I tried to enter back in on their conversation only to have Constance slightly turn her back towards me. #coldshoulder

I get it buddy – it sucks.

What the shit, right? A snubbing from a grown ass woman! Who does that?

The next day I found myself obsessing over the encounter. Why would she snub me? I’m not mean, I’m not cruel. I’ve never done anything to her, have I?

Why would Constance do this? I bet she needs to think she’s better than everyone else because she feels small. I bet her husband is a jerk to her so she takes it out on other women. I probably intimidate her with my Honda Civic and stats talk, because that is SO intimidating.

I called my best friend and told her about the snubbing. I just needed to hear someone be like, “Do you need me to slap this chick – I’ll do it!”

Then, I started comparing myself to Constance. Of course, I won in every comparison. I’m smarter than Constance. I’m prettier. I have a better job, a nice house, and a better husband. Who does Constance think she is to treat me like that?

But after way too much thought, all of my thoughts boiled down to two questions.

1) How could one simple action result in me feeling so small?

I drifted back to second grade, which is the first time I lost a friend.

Jenny and I were best friends. One day Jenny and I were playing on the playground. Then, the new girl Tony wanted to play with us. I was excited for a new friend. Within days, Jenny stopped playing with me and became best friends with Tony.

Tony never liked me. I remember crying to my mother about losing a friend. I remember feeling small and unimportant. Why didn’t Jenny like me anymore? What the heck Tony?

I had forgotten about that moment for decades because – I mean – I was seven years old. But with a simple turn of the shoulder, Constance brought me back to second grade.

In second grade I learned that some people just won’t like you. I learned that some people do not want to be your friend. I learned what it is to lose a friend over pettiness.

The situation left me feeling inferior because deep down I have an insecurity that people will not like me as I am. I think a lot of people are terrified of that, which brings me to the second question…

2) What gives another woman value?

I’ve spent the last few days wondering about what gives someone value. Change is constant. If I set my value in changing things they are likely to be lost in a moment.

I have a good job. What happens if I lose that job? Do I still have value?

So I have a good husband. What happens if my husband dies (Del, you’re not allowed to die – FYI)? Am I no longer valuable?

I’m pretty. Beauty is not eternal. Do I still have value if I’m no longer pretty?

When I think of why I’m valuable, it comes down to one thing: I am valuable because I am child of God. I am His, so I am worthy. That is constant. That is true.

Furthermore, when that is my standard it makes me think of Constance differently.

I am a child of God, and so is Constance. She cannot be better than me, and vice versa. God loves us the same. And if He loves us the same, I am called to love Constance.

I can see why Constance is loved. She is good with people (other than me, apparently). She has wonderful taste in clothing. She seems to have an abundance of friends.

So I’m taking my best friend’s advice, “You have to kill her with kindness. It’s a long-term plan, but in the end it’s the only thing that works.” She went onto say, “And the kinder you are, the more it highlights what she is doing.”

I don’t need to snub Constance or cut her down (although I’ve toiled with the thought). Because deep down, I’m guessing that she is like all of us; just a bundle of weird childhood insecurities we need to overcome.

However, I don’t need Constance’s approval or even her friendship. I’m not seven anymore. I like who I am. I love myself, because God loved me first.