How much shit can a dipshit shit
I don’t know if it was being home but man, something stirred up my anxiety.
I have spent my whole life “in trouble” for what I say.
I say what I mean and mean what I say.
But I also joke so much that I would hope people know I’m delirious half the time.
But I can recount back to high school when people stopped talking to me for whatever I said.
Instead of asking me hey, I heard this — what the hell.
I can recount back to college when I was at someone’s house, talking shit about her.
Pretty sure her parents heard.
I quit answering her calls.
But honestly … I was talking shit because I was TIRED of her shit.
I only went to the party because a group of us had plans to travel to West Virginia together.
But I cannot fake my way through much of anything. I was really annoyed that she wouldn’t listen to me that her boyfriend was a goddamn abuser.
Maybe it was wrong that I said I thought she was an idiot about it — at that venue — but she was still a goddamn idiot about him.
I was going through some stuff that I wasn’t even telling her about. Since every conversation was all about Kyle raping her on his workout bench. Or mentally fucking her.
The memories sparked anxiety at work.
Like yes I think H is a dipshit. I also think G is a dipshit. I didn’t always think G was a dipshit. But after the way that person has treated me and J … dude, find me a more professional way to say it, because I am going to say it.
I notice things get around about me too. And I laugh.
I talk shit about Jordan and Medusa and Karen, who are no longer on the team.
I talk shit about them because they talked shit about me.
Trust me, I examined everything they said. And who they said it to.
And I reject 99.9999% of it.
I’ve since realized Karen was in a tough spot, so what I criticize is her reaction to it.
G was not good to her either. But he was good to me then, so I was quick to blame her.
Now that our relationship has changed, I get it.
Now … that doesn’t mean you can write about fucking pickleball and whine when your editor rejects your shit. But I can see where she stopped trying, not where she took offense to me saying go back and write something I can publish.
And frankly I almost wish I’d get more than “stop saying stuff” — what did I say, how did it land, is there changed behavior on that person’s part (since I tend to talk shit about people and processes) or are we cool with me still thinking they are a dipshit?
Like clearly I talk shit about H and she’s actually less annoying toward me. I mean, still annoying, but tolerable.
So … was my bad behavior rewarded?
Anyway, I often think oh just go find another friendship, relationship or job … that’s what I always do.
Rather than face whatever I said or did that I absolutely meant.
To put it in context — I had some dumb lady say to me yesterday, “Oh I love that fake hair thingy on your head, it’s so cute!”
Like honey that’s not a compliment.
Now, I’m too secure in myself to think oh wow they think it’s fake.
Also my mom had always said you tend to blend colors and your own hair with them well enough that even if they spot it’s a fake, they would also spot your effort to make sure it is an enhancement, not a distraction.
I love that her words are so inscribed in my soul that I don’t spend more than five seconds wondering what losers think of me.
And with that, I shall hit publish.
I continue to be fabulous. And if these others I talk shit about are so concerned that I do NOT think they are fabulous … well either keep being a dipshit or change. Your choice, as continuing to be me is mine.