Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this.
There are days where I wish I could say this — from one to seventy-eight times and in rapid succession.
And while it’s my job to get other people UNstuck for a living, sometimes I get stuck, too. Kinda like the doctor needs to go to the doctor.
But sometimes, I’m worse than stuck. I’m destructive. Instead of feeling stuck, I feel nothing. Or even worse, I do things that make me feel worse than I already do.
Maybe you know what I mean. So today, it’s time for another Bitch Slap — and it’s one that stings. Because there are a few things I need to stop doing, like, right-fucking-now.
Oh, you whorish mother of many a ripped divide. If finger pointing were an Olympic sport, I’d be a 4-time gold medalist and enjoying a lucrative career coaching the national team. There’s really only one person to blame in any scenario: me.
- In a situation that doesn’t feel good? I’m the one choosing to stay in it.
- Something didn’t go as planned? I’m the only one who can keep it from happening that way again.
And yes, she can be a bitch of Ann Coulter proportions and he can be a mortal cocksucker rivaling only the guy who drives 40 in the left hand lane of the freeway…but for all that energy spent on blaming, I could be spending it on seeking what’s next. Better. Different. Feels better. And maybe paying attention to the people who are there for me and love me instead of trying to jam a live trout into coffee maker and expecting brilliance to spew forth. Who the hell puts a trout in a coffee maker? THIS GIRL (apparently). Blame is an asshole.
It’s not that I’m a liar. I’m actually a shitty one and don’t have the bandwidth to keep up with untrue stories. It’s the lying I do to myself when I know other people are lying to me. I make excuses for them. I give them second, third, seventh chances. I believe what they say more than what they do (though I know the latter is the Muhammed Ali of in-the-ring motherfuckers). And I’m surprised when it happens again — the lying to me. I’ve always asked that people take me at my word, face value. I just get disappointed (and repeatedly) when people can’t share themselves in a face-value way. How is someone ever going to be honest with me when they can’t be honest with themselves? I just want to be surrounded by people who consider passive-aggressive behavior to be as classy as an episode of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and put honesty on like a pair of sexy, matching bra and panties. Lying is an asshole, especially when you’re the one inviting it into your living room and knitting it a goddamned sweater. In July.
I’m the first to jump to the following conclusions:
- It’s my fault.
- I don’t deserve it.
- Why should I expect differently?
- I’m not worth it.
Here’s what I’m betting: if I launched a t-shirt line with those phrases on the merchandise, nothing would be flying off the shelves. So what the fuck is my problem? I had a shit day — GREAT! Sack up and get over it. Got dumped? BRILLIANT. Go cry, sack up, and get over it. Got broadsided with a $1500 vet bill? BITCHIN’. Give that pup a hug and thank him for not eating three socks (may or may not have happened).
I know I’m good enough. I know what I give and what I deserve. I do my best to treat others as I’d like to be treated. When life brings me the (inevitable) asparagus and corn-filled shit storm, the last place I need to go is to the dark place. It’s a job best left to good scotch, better friends, and loud music. Self deprecation can take a flying fuck.
That’s all I’ve got today. I haven’t been being very kind to myself in the past few weeks because I’ve been letting other people’s bullshit plot my course. So I’m not just saying fuck this, I’m saying fuck all these things above.
And if you don’t like it, fuck you.
I’ve been slapped. Maybe you have, too.