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I have a confession to make. This week’s “Is This Petty?” is about me, and I already know I was overreacting about something trivial. But for the sake of being open so that we can all do better in our relationships and learn from each other’s mistakes, I’ll fill you in on what occurred. Or as I like to say off the clock, “What had happened was…”
So I sing in a choir at my church. It’s my way of contributing something to my house of worship, and now and then, I think I sound pretty good! I had a solo last Sunday that I was quite nervous about. I have been given the opportunity to sing songs in the past and done a great job, but this time around, I was going to be singing in front of my parents. They had come to town for an entirely different reason, but the stars aligned, and my parents just so happened to be arriving in NYC when I was scheduled to sing. So I was nervous about them seeing me get my CeCe Winans on for the first time. It didn’t help my nerves when I remembered that my choir hadn’t really had much practice leading up to that fateful Sunday. The first rehearsal I went to after being assigned the song I was late for because of work. By the time I arrived at the church, they had already moved well past my song. And then the second practice we were scheduled to have that Friday before Sunday was canceled. I was on my own to figure this thing out. With that in mind, I let everyone who said they were going to attend service know, “Don’t expect me to sound like Yolanda Adams now…” to which they would respond, “If you sounded like Yolanda Adams, we would have known a long time ago.”
Touche.
Out of all the people who were coming, I knew for sure that my parents, my sister and her husband, my nephew, and two of my good friends would be in the audience. As for my boyfriend, I wasn’t expecting him to make an appearance. For one, it was the weekend of his father’s birthday and his family wanted to be together to eat and celebrate. And the last time I sang a solo, my first one, he couldn’t come because of his responsibilities at his own church. Plus, the night before my performance, we had a disagreement about his decision not to attend an event my parents had invited us all to come to. Irritated that I would have to come up with a good excuse for why he was flaking out that sounded a lot better than his “I just want to relax” excuse, safe to say, he wasn’t necessarily on my good side last weekend.
So imagine my surprise the next morning as I sat high up in the choir loft and saw him walk into the sanctuary behind my parents. I was overjoyed. I mean, seriously, how romantic, right? With his support and the cheerful faces of the rest of my family and friends watching me, I had a newfound confidence. I went up to the microphone and was ready to turn up for the Lord.
The only problem was, our performance was terrible. I wouldn’t say I tanked, but I don’t think God was pleased with our apparent lack of practice. The only thing that made that bad situation worse, was the fact that during my performance, I looked around at my friends and family members for support and assurance, and while most smiled back at me and cheered me on, my boyfriend was not looking up and in my direction. The two or three times I looked his way, his head was down. I don’t know if he was looking at his phone, or looking at the program, but he sure wasn’t looking at me. As I sang, knowing I didn’t have his full attention (add to that the fact that I knew we didn’t sound like Kirk Franklin and the Family up there), it took everything in me not to burst into tears during that performance. So I just stared at my sister, with her wide grin, as well as my good friend and my parents and finally finished “Chosen.” I said thank you, smiled at the crowd, went back to my seat, and proceeded to fume in anger. A friend in the choir assumed I was upset because I thought I sounded horrid, but I didn’t want to tell her that the same boyfriend I lauded about to her 30 minutes earlier was the same guy who flipped my mood upside down. I wanted to let it go, I really did, but my feelings were hurt.
I admit it. I’m sensitive. And it’s that sensitivity that caused me to let him know I was upset as soon as I could.
I should have waited until after service to let him know how I felt, but I couldn’t. I texted him a few minutes later and said that I was disappointed by the fact that when I sought out his support and assurance during my performance, he was preoccupied with his phone. I looked at him. He looked down at his phone and then looked up at me. We locked eyes, and for a minute I thought he was going to be apologetic from the pew, but instead, he turned his head and didn’t really look my way for the rest of service. I looked down at my phone, but he didn’t respond to my text either. I thought to myself, I knooooow he’s not calling himself mad!
But as time went on, I started to get that feeling. You know the one. That feeling you get when you think you may have overreacted, and now you feel like a jerk. I didn’t think my grievances were that immature but did I pick the wrong time to address them? Uh duh. But alas, when you get in your feelings, all hell can break loose and then it’s hard to get out of them. An hour later, as service finally came to a conclusion, I was in a much better mood. The sermon was great and my mind was back on God–not relationship B.S. And so with that in mind, I decided to drop the drama when I saw him after service and get back to being happy.
So when I approached him after being congratulated and applauded by my loved ones (sympathy I suppose), I quietly told him, “Thanks for coming…I’m not mad anymore.”
To my surprise he said, “I’m not mad either.”
Feeling like I had a right to be pissed and he didn’t, I told him, “Why would you have a reason to be mad at all?”
His response?
“…You couldn’t even wait until service was over to address your issue? I was looking at you, but you didn’t see because you were looking elsewhere during your song. That’s not cool.”
I couldn’t say he was lying because I honestly didn’t know. I just knew that in the brief glances I made his way, I didn’t see his smiling face–just the top of his head. But I immediately regretted the fact that not only did I address everything during service, but that I let my anger overshadow the fact that he did go out of his way to surprise me and be present for my big moment.
And considering the response I received from my co-workers, it’s safe to say I overreacted: “Really, Victoria? You’re mad petty for that…”
But there was one co-worker who could relate, and made me think.
“Don’t you hate that? When you swear you’re right and you get upset and then soon after you feel like an ass? I have to force myself to wait it out because if it’s important, I’ll find the right time to address it. If it’s not, then my anger will subside pretty fast.”
So whether or not my boyfriend looked my way 100 percent during my struggle moments at the mic, I learned that I have to get my anger in check. When my boyfriend used to say that I would get angry too fast, I always thought he was just hating on me being the complex and sometimes moody individual I am. But in reality, I do have to get my temper in check. When upset, I can go from 0 to 100 real fast. Act up, apologize for it later. But I allowed my anger to get the best of me at a time that was not really about me (it was about God), and for that, I know I have to do better. And that’s part of the reason why I’ve written this. To put myself on blast and to send a warning to other people. If you know you act all the way up over things that aren’t really that important, let’s work together to chill all the way out and focus on the bigger picture. As my co-worker was trying to say, there’s a right time and place for everything. If my grievances are warranted, they will still be valid when he and I are in private, able to talk openly. But letting my temper ruin what should have been a memorable day is something I definitely regret.
While I would have loved for my boyfriend to have been my biggest fan in the audience, the fact that he went out of his way to come at all was what was important. So the next time I think about getting my Tazmanian Devil on about something miniscule, I’ll remember the pout I wore in the house of the Lord and say to myself, Damn, Vic. You have to stop being so petty…
