Still published, still damned
It was the Duke of Wellington who said: “Publish and be damned.” He was responding to a blackmail threat from Harriette Wilson, the famous courtesan, who was about to publish her memoirs which included details of her lovers.
An article of mine is due to appear in tomorrow’s You Magazine about how my aunt is refusing to speak to me since she read my memoir, Ciao Bella (see publish and be damned blog).
I have tried reconciliation. I wrote her a groveling letter to which I’ve had no response. My father even went to Rome to try to make the peace but got nowhere.
“If you insist on talking about it I shall leave the restaurant,” she said. He tells me she is considering legal action.
It’s not like I used to speak to my aunt every day, or see her very often. But ever since it happened I have had this horrible feeling inside that I get if I think someone doesn’t like me. I used to have it a lot when I was a little girl. I was always so desperate to please and be loved that I was incredibly polite and nice; I would do anything to avoid that feeling of non-approval.
I remember when I was about eight years old in the village we lived there were two girls who had been best friends before I arrived called Alison and Penny. The dynamics were so that we couldn’t all be friends together for some reason. I had to choose between the two. But I was so desperate not to upset either of them I would pretend to be friends with both and often get caught out. It was like having an affair.
I now get that same feeling it if I get a nasty letter about one of my articles or someone posts a dreadful Amazon review of one of my books; although working for the British press I have developed a slightly tougher skin than I had as a little girl.
And of course I don’t go around worrying about my aunt all day long; I have other things to worry about like my hair extensions and what to wear to my book signing this afternoon.
But if I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s often the first thing I think about and I feel just like a little girl longing for approval again.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007
31 Mar 2007 helena
We all live for approval from others and just think that that is probably your aunt’s problem too.
If it’s any consolation I have a similar problem. Beeing totally ignored by someone is very hard to cope with. Specially when you know you have done nothing wrong! But that’s life.
Helena, you cannot control how your aunt feels or what she thinks ( that info, by the way, cost me hours of therapy and a large amount of money, although obviously we weren’t necessarily talking about your aunt. More about people in general.) I have also found it helpful to tell myself that everybody is entitled to their own opinion. I think there is a sort of release in that - a permission. It works for me anyway. Try it.
I agree with Wifey 100%. Well said. Such a hard but vital lesson to learn. Applies to everyone, too. Your parents, your siblings, your children, your spouse, your friends, your neighbors and your enemies. I am often reminded of the song Garden Party, which Rick Nelson wrote in 1972 after being booed off the stage at Madison Square Garden by fans who wanted him to play his “new stuff” instead of his old stuff. The refrain, which I sing over and over in my head whenever I begin to feel frustrated or hurt by what someone else thinks or says about me that seems unfair or wrong, goes like this:
But it’s all right now,
I learned my lesson well.
You see, you can’t please everyone,
So you got to please yourself.
Hi Helena - I read the piece with interest (and I look forward to reading your memoir too); I’m so sorry - I do hope that she will come around.
I feel that if what one writes is honest and one is being true to one’s-self then there can be nothing more to say. I suspect that your aunt’s self-knowledge may be more ‘creative’ and a different viewpoint will come as a shock.
Don’t worry, (big hug!)