I despise it when I see it in action.
I loathe it even more when I feel it inside me.
Just the definition is cringe-worthy: “a feeling of haughty contempt for anything regarded as unworthy; scorn.”
No one wants to see themselves thinking, acting or relating with such arrogance. Yet, there are times when I get so annoyed at what I see as stupid, illogical or useless behavior that I can’t seem to help myself…I look at that person with disdain.
In those moments I know I’m looking down on a person as if I am superior. I desperately want to hide that pride behind a mask of acceptance or tolerance. I try to keep it deep beneath the surface. I certainly do not want that person to know the thoughts brewing in my hypocritical mind.
I want to cache the nastiness so that it is hidden from view but remains available like so much mental cud that I can regurgitate later when I chew that person up and spit them out.
I am an unsafe container, filled with toxic emotional waste. Not pretty. Not acceptable. And not very easily hidden or disguised.
Disdain pretends that it understands and acts as if it is engaged enough to make a judgement. Then, placing the person in question on the scales it arbitrarily decides their value. All without knowing the first thing about them.
Disdain is unfair. It is meanness disguised as smartness. It stirs up its companions–rejection and indignation–for a menage à trois of pretentious pomposity.
It is just a terrible emotion. But I still feel it.
It rises up in me when I see things that make me go “WTF!?” done by people who (in my not-so-humble opinion) should know better. It acts as judge, jury and executioner before I have time to shove it back into my empty clue bag.
In short, disdain stands wagging its crooked finger in my face and taunts me like a cocky bully, “cache me if you can”.
Most often, I can’t.