Sunday, November 15, 2009, 3:07 PM
Stop the Presses
By Kevin Moreau
The man in the mirror
No one among us is just one thing. As Walt Whitman so poetically put it: We are large. We contain multitudes. We juggle many roles over the course of a day: Husband/wife. Boyfriend/girlfriend. Parent. Child. Co-worker. Friend.
And while each of these aspects is a facet of our larger personality, each is also its own component, separate and distinct: Blogger. “Twilight” fanatic. Musician. Stamp collector. Foodie.
Naturally, we tend to focus more on those parts of ourselves that reflect well on us, and less so on those that leave something to be desired. It’s a good bet Chris Brown doesn’t look in the mirror and see The Guy Who Beat Up Rihanna. Who among us thinks of themselves primarily as the husband who slept with a stripper that one time? Or the English major who cheated on her Chemistry final?
But those things are a part of us, whether we wish to acknowledge them or not. The compassionate friend is also the man who makes fun of panhandlers. The doting grandparent is also the seething partisan who shouts down those who disagree with him. The loving husband and dedicated professional is also the guy who, behind the wheel of a car, flies into blind rages at the slightest provocation.
I know, because I’ve been that last guy.
Like many of us, I’ve given the one-finger salute to drivers who cut in front of me. But I’ve also cursed out pedestrians who walked behind my car as I tried to back out of a parking spot. I’ve yelled, until my neck veins bulged, at motorists whose only crime was to pass me on the right instead of the left. I’ve passed my turnoff and followed perfect strangers for blocks, consumed with righteous anger because they had done me some grave offense I couldn’t even remember.
I share this with you not because I seek absolution, but because for years, I compartmentalized that part of myself, held it separate from the rest of what I considered to be “me.” Until one day, I came face to face with the consequences of that behavior, and could no longer afford to pretend it wasn’t really a part of me. I had to own it.
I struggle to accept ownership of that Kevin Moreau, and many others, every day. Even the most modest among us is quicker to acknowledge our strengths than our flaws. But we can’t really be the people we picture ourselves to be, much less who we want to be, until we come to terms with who and what we are.