Yesterday a woman died right in front of my eyes. On a train.
A combination of stage-frightened first-aiders and off-duty medics travelling on their previously merry way from London on a scorching Saturday afternoon battled for 45 agonising minutes on the cruel hard platform tarmac in front of her devastated husband while they frantically hoped for the non-existent ambulance.
Usually a lady of statuesque frame, she was reduced to a human trampoline as the sweating, red-faced team attempted to pummel a pulse back into her lifeless body.
If witnessing something like that isn’t enough to make you appreciate your own life, what is? A spur to weed out the Debbie Downers blighting an otherwise chilled existence.
But why should it take a dramatic turn of events or a game-changer scenario to grasp the joy of life and cherish every moment like it’s your last? I like to think I appreciate my life day in day out, with the little moments like the pleasure of sinking into fresh garden-dried bed sheets or in the eye-creasing smile of one of my children when they are offered an unexpected treat.
Recently, I seem to witness and be surrounded by drama. Rarely at the heart of it but it’s on my radar. And sadly it is my reluctant observation that most of it is created by women and directed towards other women.
Frankly this has been a repeating pattern since the school playground, but you kinda hope it dissipates as you age. Nope. Not a bit. Well not among the masses anyhow.
I once worked in sales in a factory which had a Clean Room. A room where they chucked 30 women together in scrubs to assemble life-saving medical products day in day out and it bred more sniping, backbiting and bitching than I’ve ever seen in one location! Watch that clean room get grubby in 0-60!
I see, even in this blogging world, a tale of two tribes. On the one hand, a network of amazing, sharing and caring females keen to give each other a helping hand to the highest level possible, juxtaposed with the cutting crew who can’t bear to watch others get ahead, seize amazing opportunities and work with this brand or that, so they tear down as trolls and bad-mouth in the pursuit of quieting a vibrant voice.
So why can’t we, as the sisterhood, just get on? Why isn’t it in our DNA to only support and nurture rather than knock down and destroy our fellow females?
Jealousy is the number one contributor, it would seem. Whether it be cliques getting clique-ier, keeping up with the Jones’ syndrome, career coveting or plain old wardrobe envy, the green-eyed monster lurks expectantly, waiting to pounce.
I’ve observed lovely, sweet and successful women be targeted and slandered for personal gain, simply because the perpetrator could not bear to watch the rise and rise of a hardworking person when their own lives and goals were not going to plan. Bitterness and resentment only lead to self-destruction and I have no place for that in my little ginger existence any more thank you very much!
I know so many positive, nurturing, powerful women who would rather gnaw off their own foot than put another woman down for no good reason. I surround myself with them now and have managed to siphon off the ones who merely drain me. Occasionally bad judgement on my part allows a rogue trader to slip through the net but as with many fickle self-obsessed people who only have themselves at heart, they soon show their true colours and end up in the sin bin. Huzzah!
Surround yourself with positive minds for a positive life Ladies. Love and #girlpower to you all!
Have you experienced the wrath of your fellow woman? How did you deal with it? Are you feeling the love or the loathe?
Source: huffingtonpost.co.uk
