Checks My Ass Can't Cover

My mother always said that my mouth would write checks my ass couldn't cover.  She had a real knack for turning phrases that caught your attention and stuck with you long after she uttered them.  This one entertained me every time she said it, although it took years for me to believe the validity of her statement.  People who know me now see me as a tactful, polite person who rarely says things in an intentionally rude or disrespectful manner.  It took many years of strenuous effort to become like this.  As a child and teenager, I had an amazingly obnoxious mouth and actually derived pleasure from hurting people with my words. 

From a very young age, my vocabulary exceeded the language of my peers and I would use my words to set myself apart from them, especially if they behaved cruelly towards me.  At first, words became a defense mechanism I used only when provoked.  If someone insulted me, hurt my feelings for no good reason, or struck out at me in any fashion, I would give them both barrels of my vebosity.  Creative combinations of words provided a shield of sorts and I could pretty much out-talk and out-insult anyone who came at me.  Later, as I grew into adolescence, I discovered that it hurt less to be the first one to strike out at a potential smart mouth, and I would often using cutting, sarcastic remarks to draw first blood and advertise to people to leave me alone.  Not only would I insult them, but I also had an uncanny ability to go for the jugular, find their weakest points, and take them out before they ever got started.  Low self-esteem? Gotcha on that one.  Parents divorcing and you're afraid they don't love you? Yep, you betcha.  Too tall, short, skinny, pimply, stupid? I went there and then some.  I used to make people cry.  I remember one time, picking on my sister's boyfriend so badly that he actually began throwing darts at me to chase me off the porch.  I was relentless in my desire to get under people's skin. And the sad thing about all of it,  is that I enjoyed this kind of verbal and psychological smackdown--at least enough to keep doing it for many, many years.

It's when I entered middle school that my mother kept repeating the check-covering phrase to me.  I suppose if I had gotten beaten up, it might have taken the wind out of my verbal sails sooner than later, but it never happened. I didn't get into a single physical fight due to my mouth the entire time I let it run rampant.  Lucky me, I guess.  Only until I began to mature and really listen to the conscience inside me that had always rebelled somewhat to my hurtful language, did I truly begin to curb my words.  At some point, I determined that no matter what someone said to me, no matter how insulting, rude or demeaning he or she could be, I shouldn't be that way myself.  I realized I could never control how other people behaved or how they tended their soul or conscience, but I could become the master of my own.  Fundamentally, I understood that I didn't want to be someone who intentionally hurt other people, regardless of the reason for doing so.  Engaging in self-defense is one thing, being a total bitch is a completely different beast.  I didn't want to be that bitch anymore. So somewhere along the line, I just stopped. 

I think it may have had something to do with becoming more comfortable in my own skin and gradually getting to the point where I just didn't care what other people thought or said anymore.  I wanted to be nice, kind, and generous of both time and spirit.  I wanted to feel connnected to other people and remove some of that verbal barrier I created and maintained for the majority of my life.  I am a much happier person now.  I enjoy when people are pleased or comfortable when they spend time with me.  I take pleasure in making others feel good, uplifted, hopeful, and connected.  It is a much more meaningful and fulfilling existence to be good-natured, optimistic and open than closed, angry and hurtful.

All of this thinking about how I used words and how I use them today stemmed from an interaction I had with my neighbor this morning.  I put my dog out to go to the bathroom a little before 8 a.m. and he barked for about five minutes before I let him back in.  When I went outside, I told Gus to hush, and my neighbor, standing in his backyard said, "It's about damn time you came out to control your dog."  For an instant, I thought about ripping into him and letting my verbal fists fly, but I calmly gathered up my dog, looked at my neighbor and said, "I hope you have a lovely day too."  My mother, I think, would have been proud.  I know my ass this morning didn't let that particular check bounce.