Masked

Years ago, I had a mentor. She was your archetypal properly brought up southern woman. Her family was from a quaint southern town, her father the representative to the state house and her mother the picture of feminine strength, charm, and skill. My mentor inherited from her father political savvy and from her mother all the southern charms necessary for women in the south to get what they want while not seeming to be scheming.

And, as with most relationships, over time we moved on in our careers and lost contact. Not long ago, a mutual acquaintance told me that my mentor had suffered a stroke, and after attempting to return to work, finally realized she needed to retire. I went to visit my mentor not long after that. And what a change I found.

My mentor had taken to explaining to people that the stroke killed that part of her brain that contained her "southern charm." And, being polite, properly brought up southerners, we let it go at that.

I observed what she meant by saying she'd lost her southern charm. She suddenly acted like a 14 year old girl. She craved being the center of attention of any room. She had exaggerated responses, both positive and negative, to everything. And, she seemingly gave herself permission to be openly rude. For example, she and I were visiting an older relative of hers. Someone had given this nice woman a box of very expensive chocolates as a gift. The older relative opened the box for us, her guests, and offered us a piece. Southern manners dictate that you take only one piece, and if you know which are the hosts favorites, you actively avoid those. My mentor clasped her hands together with a childlike flair and said "ooooh, chocolates" and proceeded to munch piece after piece until she'd eaten half the box and I made excuses for us to leave.

After spending several days with my mentor, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't so much that the stroke had truly killed the "southern charm" from her brain . . . more that she used the excuse of the stroke to get away with behavior she'd suppressed for years.

Sadly, I think we all have our moments of using an excuse for our behavior rather than actually taking responsibility for ourselves. Some of us had bad childhoods. Others had traumatic events. Others have a sick child/spouse/parent. The real problem is when the excuse becomes the central fact, because then we are truly stuck.