My counselor suggested at one of our first meetings that I keep a journal. My first thought was, “You, lady, are insane. Hell no. That’s asking for trouble” because frankly my private thoughts are enough to give the devil himself pause at times. I don’t really have a good explanation for it, but generally my very first reaction to just about anything is nothing short of inappropriate, if not downright rude. It doesn’t matter what it is, my reaction to anything usually falls within the boundaries of……well. There are no boundaries with my reactions. I am impulsive and ornery and I always have been.
We spend a lot of time trying to figure out ways for me to relax and think before reacting. She thought journaling was a good place to start. If I could put things on paper instead of in an email, text, or a face to face confrontation, then possibly I could avoid some stress and it would help with my urges to drink straight Irish whisky, yell “fuck!”, and punch people in the face.
Until yesterday, I haven’t really gone on a pure rage in my journaling. Yesterday, I did. It felt good. It felt damn good. Because damnit, I am trying. I’m trying to not be an asshole. I am trying to do right by a lot of people right now. And frankly, I’m getting shit in return. But, maybe shit is what I deserve? yesterday’s rage:
I’m trying to do right. I’m doing my best. I may not be doing what people want, or the way they’d do it, but I’m doing all I can. I’ve never claimed to be some righteous person with impeccable morals and the best delivery. I’ve never claimed a pedigree which precluded me from suffering the consequences of my actions. I’ve never been one of those asshats that just got away with shit because of whose vagina I slid through. Nor have I ever wanted to be. I have never attempted to sit atop some moral high ground and toot my own horn.
Today, I am taking five minutes to do just that. I am pissed. I have laid down and rolled over and coward down for as long as I can stand it. I’ve bent the hell over backward trying to make certain people’s life easier on them, make them happy, and handle them with “kid gloves”, all for the sake of making shit easier on them. And I am sick of it. Right now. I AM FUCKING SICK OF IT.
I want somebody to bend their ass over for me. Quit walking all over me, and saying fucked up shit to me, and just standing there looking at me as if I am just some damn brick wall built to absorb their bullshit.
I have been wrong about a lot of shit that I have done during my life. I’ll own that shit. Gladly. What I haven’t done, is purposely blow off, kick, step over, or otherwise figuratively shit on someone I claim to care about. I’ve hurt people, no doubt, but I’ve never just stood there with a straight face and looked at someone I allegedly care for, and ripped their soul out, just to make myself feel better about my own choices. THAT, is something that I’ve never done.
Anywho, that pity party is over and I feel better.