drilling over the pain
who knew a trip to the nail salon could turn into a lesson in grace.
Welcome to Substackmas! I hope we’re all feeling festive🤭 I’m not BUT, I’m trying to boost the mood and not dwell on that. So, what better way to get out of those blues than to task myself with more ‘work’ to do in the lead up to Christmas? Sike. It’s not work. I love writing, and I appreciate all of you who read these. I’ve had ideas drafted for months that I’ve been sleeping on, so here’s #1. Enjoy!
Darling L, this one’s for you 🫶🏾
If you haven’t had a girls’ night in a while, I implore you to book one with the girls before the New Year begins. I had just met with one of my closest gals and her beautiful friend - we’ll call her Darling L - the Saturday night before we rang in her birthday. It was SO much fun, by the way. And it still was when Miss L fell down the stairs and broke her nail. It wasn’t a small, minor chip, mind you; I’m talking bloody tissues and droplets on the stairs. I don’t know if that’s a sign of a good night, but a time was had.
Nonetheless, I saw Darling L the following evening for our friend’s birthday dinner, and it was like she had never broken her nail. At first, I thought her nails looked really great, as they had the day before, though I had forgotten that there were a few missing (we’ve all been there). But then, I remembered how her nail pretty much came off completely, so I asked her about it:
Me: “Girly, what happened to your nail?”
Darling L: “Oh my gosh, yes. So I got them redone today!”
“But I thought you broke it…”
“Girl, yes. In the car on the way back, it was literally throbbing. I wanted to cry so bad.”
“So, how do you have a new nail over it?”
“I showed the guy in the nail shop what had happened, honestly expecting him to be like, ‘No, I’ll do every other finger’, but he just drilled over it.”
“He put fresh acrylic over your freshly-broken nail?!”
“Girl, yes!”
To say we all (all of the girls and I on the table) looked at each other collectively shocked, disgusted and honestly, deeply confused and concerned, would be an understatement. It’s only recently I’ve been thinking about this, and it’s brought a new sentiment to the story. We had such expressive reactions to this; the thought of an ‘expert’ doing the non-expert thing, drilling over fresh pain, dismissing her concerns and feelings…something, I guess, clicked.
This situation can be entirely representative of the world we live in now. Sorry to take it there, but come on, tell me you see it. Experts are acting out of character, sometimes outlandishly; oftentimes, we’re encouraged to dismiss recent hurts, whether emotional, mental or physical, for the sake of keeping up appearances and/or just getting ‘back to normal’. But this sets us back in healing, if not, only worsening it - as a body and individually.
This probably wasn’t the first time she put her hands (literally and figuratively) in the pockets of someone who should’ve known better, and it surely won’t be the last. I do, however, think it’s a lesson, especially for young women, in trusting your instinct when you feel you’re being wronged. She had a hunch he was doing the wrong thing, and I think she endured it for the sake of convenience - she wasn’t expecting to go into a nail appointment with a broken nail - and because he was supposed to do the right thing. But I just can’t shake that he should’ve known better.
I’ve been dwelling on this a lot recently. As you are reading this, it’ll have been almost a year since I last saw my situationship. In growing and, truthfully, preparing myself to be more open to the (romantic) love I believe is on its way to me, I’m making peace with the fact that he knew better and didn’t do better, and that’s a testament to his character, not a reflection of mine.
However, I’m also growing frustrated with rhetorics in romance that constantly blame the woman.
‘You led with your heart’, as if that’s a bad thing.
‘You saw the red flags and ignored them’, but what if that was her first time encountering them?
‘You knew better’, did she though?
This recently happened to a friend who later told me: “But As, I’ve only ever known good men. I’m my dad’s princess; my first boyfriend was the loveliest guy ever, we were just young.” Up until then, the love she’d received from men had been so pure, so gentle, that when she was met with one that shook things up, she wasn’t to know it wasn’t good. Of course, you can eventually realise that it’s toxic, poisonous even - but you’ve got to get to that point to reckon with it. When enough was almost enough, she said no, walked away, and hasn’t looked back.
But that doesn’t negate the fact that he was disrespectful, manipulative, disloyal, emotionally inept and led her on. We are not born with these behaviours, which means they were learned, and he clearly lacked the self awareness to rid of his rotten traits — I think I’m projecting now. Sorry not sorry, but STILL, my point remains.
It’s very easy to serve people with the ‘solution’ as an outsider looking in, even more so when those are lessons you’ve never had to face. I think the reason those ‘chronically single’ friends can provide tainted situations with such purposeful and radiant insight is because of how peaceful their perception of love remains. But most importantly, they love us so much that they see with crystal clearness everything that we’ve rose-tinted — that’s one of the most treasured things about seeing and embracing love beyond the romantic. It reminds us that our friendships can be a key indicator of the romantic love we’re due and worthy of (an immense amount).
What I do smile at when thinking about that conversation at dinner with Darling L is how sensitive and kind the other young ladies around her were to the situation - bar one, but silent haters are never given time xxx. ‘Just be sure to keep an eye on it’, ‘How are you feeling now?’ and ‘As long as you’re okay’ rang in the air (very) soon after. It was other women wanting another to get the care and treatment she deserved, absent of judgment, disdain and mockery.
Not giving ourselves enough grace and patience to learn from the worst that happened - and the better that’s to come - is a bit like the nail tech drilling the broken nail. We can be aware of the impact, feel the pain and shockwaves in the aftermath (throbbing), and know that we’re due gentler care. But if we allow the wrong thing or person to take the reigns on how we feel or have the final say, we could be worse off.
So, with the festive period lingering on the tips of our noses and a hopeful and bright new year to look forward to - whatever that looks like for you - let’s be more discerning of those drill bits in our lives.
How blessed am I?
Substackmas day one: complete. See you tomorrow❤️