My Rose-Colored Glasses Allow Me To See The World My Way
Do these glasses make me look happy or you happier?
I was sitting with my dad and two of my brothers at some random rib joint across from the hotel where we were staying. We had all flown in for my oldest brother’s funeral. Towards the end of the meal, the conversation turned to my niece who had been estranged from my brother, her dad. Each of my brothers has a daughter they have no contact with for different reasons. Each situation is as heartbreaking as the next, and I have deep empathy for my brothers as well as my nieces. As the childless aunt, I’ve been able to retain relationships with all parties. I feel as if it’s been my job to keep the lines of communication open, and as they say, I don’t have a dog in the hunt.
As you can imagine, emotions were running high. My brothers were nodding in agreement about what it’s like to have a child who doesn’t speak to them. I started to relay a conversation I had with a niece about her dad’s passing, but as the first word tumbled out, my now oldest brother shot out, “You wouldn’t understand. Just keep your rose-colored glasses on, Lori.” I beelined for the ladies room before I said something I’d regret. I was incredibly mad and hurt for many reasons: 1) Being dealt the ‘you don’t have kids, you could never understand,’ card; 2) It was a shitty thing to say; and 3) It was incredibly patronizing; and 4) I idolize my brothers so it was like a cold, hard slap to my face.
A year later, I’ve come to realize his statement was a compliment. My rose-colored glasses are fucking awesome, thank you very much.
I work at seeing the positive in people and situations. And you know what? I’m happier for it. Honestly, I don’t know what pit of despair I’d be lying in without those damn glasses. If I were President, I’d create a rose-colored glasses stimulus package, and I’d pass a law saying that you have to wear a mask AND rose-colored glasses. Everywhere. Mandatory. No glasses, no service.
My glasses helped me to forgive my brother for making that comment and to see it for the ‘’pinkalicious’’ compliment it was. Color me rainbow bright.
That lovely tint of pink helped me to see through my tears at my brother’s funeral. They helped me see all the lovely people who showed up to pay their respects.
Throughout these past crazy months of COVID, my cool shades have amplified my view of the medical personnel who are so bravely helping people while shuttering out all the anti-mask memes and conspiracy theories.
When I felt low, they illuminated the face of an adorable orange four-week-old injured kitten who needed a home, and my heart has expanded exponentially as a result.
They allow me to see the love and caring in my husband’s eyes during times of non-marital bliss.
They enable me to see long distances, well past the shoulders of family and friends who have hurt and disappointed me, including my brother who has been carrying the weight of hurt and anger for many years.
Most importantly, they filter out harmful political and news rays which are blinding. During the months up to the election, I’ll be wearing them to bed.
I wasn’t born with these glasses. I didn’t need them when I was younger as I was able to see everything through a brighter lens. As I’ve aged, I’ve had to squint, really squint to let the light in. Adulthood coupled with a few bitter breakups, greying roots, road-rage drivers, and beating my head against the wall countless times created a myopic focus and general wearing away of my childlike eyes. The light grew dim. As the years crept by, it was becoming harder and harder to see the good in people, navigate my way through tough situations, and find my footing in dark times.
My rose-colored glasses have been a Godsend.
Putting them on every day requires conscious effort. I don’t always feel like wearing them. Some days I wanna roll over and reach for my ‘dark and stormy’ blackout shades and keep them on ’til the end of days, which I’m told is near. What most people don’t realize is that it takes much more effort to put those rosy shades on to see the world. I have to reach farther and really stretch, but it’s worth it. You’d think people would be grateful, even happy for my efforts. You’d think the cynical masses would appreciate the rose-colored glasses sect, but as we well know, misery loves company.
Contrary to popular belief, my pink peepers don’t make me a sappy Pollyanna. I’m a realist, but I’m a realist who mindfully chooses happiness. The rabbit hole is so dark and deep, and so close. Don’t they know how close and how deep? Aren’t they afraid of what happens if I slip through? Don’t they know how hard it is for me to climb back out?
My tribe know what I’m like without my rosy lenses. My memory of every past wrong goes into hyper-over drive pulling files from the way-back chronicles, and my sharp tongue rears its ugly fork. My body fills with rage, flames shoot from my mouth, and a soapbox lifts out of the earth beneath my feet from which to deliver my fiery sermon. I’m perfecting my head spin, but to date, I’m still a novice. Turns out those shades are my buffer and shield to protect myself as well as others.
My shades don’t deliver me to strawberry fields, dancing among unicorns and fairies, but so what if they did? What’s the harm in skipping through meadows of marshmallow stalks and a butterfly ballet? Bring on the flying kittens, cotton candy, and sparkles. Glitter me up, and blare the kazoos. The world needs more kittens and kazoos.
Life is hard. And this past year? C’mon. You can’t make this stuff up. COVID is evidence that my glasses aren’t foolproof. No amount of polishing can hide my sadness over not being able to hug my dad for months on end or mask my worry over his daily care in assisted living. There is no shade of pink on the planet that can whisk away my fears over the long-term effects of a pandemic on school kids, parents, small businesses, the economy, etc.
But what’s the harm in consciously looking for the good, positive actions of many vs. the negative, harmful of few? Why not search for the bright side or at the very least not drop anchor in the dark recesses of the rabbit hole. Shouldn’t we be pulling up rocks to look for flying donkeys? Shouldn’t we be rummaging behind clouds searching for rainbows and silver linings? If we all spent our time flailing around in the dark, tiptoeing around the rabbit hole while cursing the universe, and not doing everything we can to see the world through a brighter, happier hue, then what’s the frickin’ point?
BTW, I’m considering upgrading to blinders. What do you think?
RIP Phil. You are missed beyond measure.
