The Pig Likes the Mud

The Pig Likes the Mud

Welton has told me this for years:

“Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty, and the pig likes it.”

And Welton certainly didn’t invent that saying. I’ve heard different versions of it throughout my life.

The funny thing is, apparently I needed about 56 years for the damn thing to finally sink in. 😂

Because for most of my life, if you wanted to wrestle?

Well, let’s get in the mud, honey.

You said something about me? I had something to say back.

You came at me? I was coming right back.

You wanted to argue? Pull up a chair because apparently I had nowhere else to be. 😂

And God forbid I knew I was right.

Ohhhh, then we might be there awhile.

I used to think defending myself meant answering every accusation, correcting every lie, explaining every misunderstanding and making damn sure somebody knew exactly where I stood.

And if somebody misunderstood me?

I needed to FIX IT.

If somebody said something that wasn’t true?

I needed to CORRECT IT.

If somebody was ugly to me?

Well, surely they needed to know that I could be ugly too.

I thought walking away meant they won.

That’s the part I finally understand differently.

Some people don’t actually want a resolution.

They don’t want an explanation.

They don’t care about the truth.

And they sure as hell aren’t looking for peace.

They want the fight.

That’s where the pig comes in.

You’re standing there thinking, Surely if I explain this one more time, they’ll understand.

Meanwhile, that pig is having the TIME OF HIS LIFE. 😂

You’re presenting facts.

The pig is rolling over.

You’re explaining yourself.

The pig is splashing around.

You’re writing a six-paragraph text trying to clear everything up.

And the pig is thinking:

BEST. DAY. EVER.

😂😂😂

And here’s the uncomfortable part I’ve had to admit about myself:

There were probably times in my life when I liked the mud too.

Maybe not because I wanted drama, but because I wanted to be RIGHT.

I wanted the last word.

I wanted somebody to understand my side.

I wanted to defend myself.

And sometimes I probably kept arguments alive long after they should’ve died because I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody walking away believing something about me that wasn’t true.

Age has taught me something I wish I’d learned much earlier:

People are allowed to be wrong about you.

Whew.

That one took me a LONG damn time.

Somebody can misunderstand you.

Somebody can dislike you.

Somebody can tell their version of the story.

Somebody can even make you the villain in a story where you know damn well you weren’t.

And you know what?

You don’t have to attend every argument you’re invited to.

That doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become some peaceful little Zen woman floating around my house forgiving everybody while birds land on my shoulders.

Let’s not get carried away. 😂

I’m still me.

If I need to stand up for myself, I will.

If I need to protect somebody I love, I absolutely will.

And if you back me far enough into a corner, there’s still a very good chance you’re going to meet the old Tammy.

She’s not dead. She’s just retired. 😂

But these days, I try to ask myself a different question before I jump into the mud:

What am I actually going to accomplish here?

Am I talking to somebody who genuinely wants to understand me?

Or am I talking to somebody who simply wants a reaction?

Because those are two VERY different conversations.

One may be worth having.

The other one is just cardio with a pig.

And I’m tired. 😂

At 56, peace has become much more valuable to me than having the last word.

That’s something younger me would probably never believe.

Because walking away doesn’t always mean you’re weak.

Silence doesn’t mean you couldn’t respond.

And refusing to fight doesn’t mean the other person was right.

Sometimes silence simply means:

I could get in that mud with you. I just don’t live there anymore.

And maybe that’s one of the greatest things about getting older.

You finally start realizing where your energy belongs.

Not everybody deserves an explanation.

Not every comment requires a response.

Not every lie requires a defense.

Not every misunderstanding needs to be corrected.

And not every person deserves access to your peace.

Sometimes you just have to look at that pig, look at that mud, and think:

Baby, I can see you’re having a wonderful time in there.

But you’re gonna have to wrestle by yourself today. 😂❤️