Often people use the word "bitter." "She doesn't like your skirt because she's bitter about her fat ass," or, "He's just bitter because he can't get laid." But what does it really mean when people say the word? Why do we use it so much? Or, oh no, is it just me? Is my use of the word reflective of my own bitterness? Here is my attempt at dissecting the word and getting to the root of why we, or I, have deployed it in conversation so often.
Merriam-Webster defines bitter as "being or inducing one of the four basic taste sensations that is peculiarly acrid, astringent, or disagreeable and suggestive of an infusion of hops," and also as "distasteful or distressing to the mind: galling." I use the word in the latter sense. Even before I began dropping the word in dialog, the feeling of bitterness resided in me. I believe the feeling began to develop in high school. My theory is that this is when the feeling takes residency with most others.
High school, for me, was veiled in laughter, sports, parties, extremely short skirts, knee socks, dances, and prom dresses. Under the veil existed a very different scenario, and a much more real one than all the superficial items I've listed. I felt insecurity. I had a genuine need to be liked and approved by others. Being popular, particularly at a small school in a small town, loomed in the back of my mind at all times. The overwhelming desire to be pretty but never feeling pretty enough plagued me for all four years of high school. I constantly compared my physical self to my other girl friends.' Intellect came second in importance to me. Grades came after that. The things I valued had nothing to do with who I was or am. In a very real sense, I was lost.
And so, while always measuring myself to other girls and constantly seeking approval from boys, I became bitter. Was I aware of this? Not until much later in life. But I'll get to that. I resented myself for never looking good enough, so I despised myself, and in turn I seriously disliked others who I felt met the physical standards of the day. For example, I have a big behind compared to the size of my body. I absolutely love my luscious booty now, but in high school, I truly believed I needed to lose weight. Never accepting myself played hand-in-hand with the bitter taste that perpetually plagued my mind's tongue.
I graduated high school not having a clue as to who I was. (Let me stop here briefly to clarify that I don't think any of these feelings or notions are uncommon in high school children.) However, by senior year, I had a faint sense that the world was much bigger than Mansfield, Massachusetts. I also had a hint that I was much bigger than the person I allowed myself to be. Loyola University New Orleans loomed in the distance like far-away storm clouds. I didn't know whether to be scared or to welcome the inevitable rain that my dried-up sense of self so desperately needed.
Loyola accepted me. I took off to New Orleans without a thought in my head. It was during my time in Louisiana that I began to look back and realize how much time I'd spent being and feeling bitter towards myself and others. In college, I quickly learned I could take one of two paths: I could pretend to be a person that I hoped others would like, or I could act natural and see where that road took me. I chose the latter, and by the time I graduated college, I was able to do a few things that I hadn't before.
I began to see other women as friends and strangers, not competitors for men and cute clothing. I achieved this only after I accepted myself intellectually and physically. I stopped seeking the approval of men. (In fact, one could say that for awhile I thought men were my enemy and only good for sex.) Getting good grades and loving the curriculum at hand became extremely important to me. Thus, my bitterness slowly subsided.
There are times now when I still feel bitter. For example, I was a bit bitter when I found out Blake Lively was dating Leonardo DiCaprio. But the difference now is that I can immediately recognize those feelings, sit with them for a few minutes, and then cast them away. Why am I bitter? I ask this question when the feeling arises. Blake Lively is younger than me, more attractive, and, in my opinion, wickedly talented. But would I want to date Leo? No, of course not. I love my partner, Daniel. And it's in that moment when I think about all the things I have in my life that I am able to toss the bitterness out the window.
Growing up, I wasn't thankful for all I had going for me. Now I look back and think, "Man, my body was wonderful in high school. Why did I ever think I needed to lose weight?" I was smart but never cared enough about my brain power to recognize this. College and my move to Seattle thereafter helped me achieve all of this. Learning to let go of bad thoughts that would get me nowhere but an angry place made me the person I am today.
In closing, bitterness is a feeling and a state of mind. It is the most useless of all emotions. To be bitter is to miss out on life. Overcoming bitterness requires an open mind, a recognition of jealousy, and a realization of all you have to be thankful for. There is nothing that someone else has that you cannot obtain yourself through work and a belief in yourself. But do not put blinders on. Be aware of your surroundings. Be happy for others even if it is through gritted teeth. If a negative thought surfaces in your mind, think about it. Think about its roots and why it is there at that particular moment in your life. Maybe bitterness means something is missing in your own life, perhaps it means you just need a nap or a snack. But what I know for sure is that bitterness is a weight, and the sooner you can identify it, the sooner you can discard it with legitimacy. Without bitterness in your world, there exists a special freedom to love yourself, the good people you've chosen to be in your life, and strangers you've yet to meet.
