I will start this post by letting you know if you don’t like swearing or are offended by it – don’t read this.

If my house isn’t clean enough for you then don’t fucking come back.  Period.   I won’t try harder next time you just won’t be invited again.

For all those women and men out there who so happily move through their days making other people feel like shit with their endless stream of judgement passed off as harmless little comments or jokes – go fuck yourselves.

There is no reason at all for you to make the comments you make.  I didn’t ask for your opinion, nor do I want it.  I see my life and myself fairly clearly (I think) and I am pretty truthful with myself and the world about my shortcomings.  I am a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  I am hardworking, tireless and generous.  I work my fucking ass off keeping everyone’s shit together and if I’m not doing a good enough job for you – that’s your fucking problem.  Your nasty judgements do not and will not make it my problem.  I promise you that my standards are much higher than any you could impose on me and I feel plenty on my own that I sometimes fall short.  I don’t need you pointing it out to me.  I would never point it out to you.  Do you know why?   I would rather build you up than tear you down.  I would rather point out a positive to you than a negative.  I won’t lie to you or shield you from truths that you may really need to know.  However, if I have something to say that will only serve to hurt you or cause you pain, I will keep it to myself.  I am not a nasty bitch.  Even though I have often been called one.

We are our own worst critics.  It is true.  We are so hard on ourselves, needlessly.  I bet that the people who move through their lives ripping other people apart feel worse about themselves than anything and that the comments they make to others are only a glimpse of how they view themselves.  I guarantee that each time you make someone else feel bad you end up feeling worse about yourself.  I bet that the track that rolls through your mind of negative self-talk gets louder and more abusive.  I wonder though, what would happen to you if instead of making someone else feel bad, you made an effort to make them feel better.  Especially if you know they are going through a hard time or having a bad day or even better, if you yourself are having a bad day.  I bet again, that you might end up feeling better about yourself and maybe, just maybe that negativity that lives in your heart will lighten a bit.  You might even one day feel good.  Holy shit!  That would be awesome!

Every effort that we make in our lives no matter the task or situation is absolutely perfect.  We can do no better and no worse because for that exact, precise moment in time that is the exact effort we are capable of.  So try to see yourself as perfect and enough at all times.  And try to be as forgiving and compassionate to others.  We are all doing our best even if that doesn’t always appear to be good enough.

Sorry for the rant at the beginning, kinda, but not really.  The catalyst to this post is a dear friend of mine and she is struggling and she’s too nice to put you people in your place.  So from me to you and on behalf of anyone else who is too nice to tell you to your face.  Please keep your opinion to yourself.  Stop making other people feel bad.  I am not afraid to tell you off and will gladly do it again.

Right now my husband isn’t speaking to me.  He isn’t speaking to me because of my behaviour.  I brought my mother home tonight from her residence for dinner and a visit.  During her visit she took a phone call from one of her sisters.  This particular sister happens to be storing the majority of my mother’s belongings and for about a month, prior to my mom getting really sick and moving in here, I was trying to coordinate with her sister when it would be ok for my husband and myself to drive the two hours to pick up my mom’s things.  After trying unsuccessfully for over three weeks, at which point we could no longer complete the move due to my husband’s surgery, my aunt finally deigned to take a phone call from me and then proceeded to come unhinged.  She lost her temper with me and was pretty nasty, then she hung up. (*Seems like people lose it on me a lot these days)  Since then, we haven’t spoken and I have tried to discuss with my mother what she wants done with her things.

The reason I got upset is because my mom, yet again, refuses to stand up for me.  I know it’s stupid.  I’m a grown-ass woman with a bunch of kids of my own.  I really don’t need my mommy to fight my battles for me.  That’s not what this is about.  What it is about, is that my entire life, my mother has not once stood up for me.  She’s never defended me, even when I’ve been confronted with situations way beyond my control, my fault, my anything.  She stood there while I was verbally attacked by a grown woman when I was about 8 years old.  She stood there when I was physically assaulted by her then-boyfriend and then when we went to court she told the crown that I was lying.  I was 17 when this happened and it’s the reason that I left home.  Conveniently, she doesn’t remember this.  These are just a couple of examples that come to mind.

I’m sure I sound like a spoiled little brat.  I don’t mean to.  I basically was just having a childish moment, as an adult.  Since my mom has been so ill, I’ve been feeling like anger is an emotion reserved for people who have the luxury of time.  I know I’m running out of time with my mom and I don’t want to feel any residual anger from my childhood.  Today’s bit of rage took me completely by surprise.  I am somewhat ashamed of myself for not being passed this piece of our history.  I am ashamed of the way I dealt with my emotional response.

So, once I got upset, I went quiet.  That’s what I do.  I no longer throw hissy fits or scream and yell.  I simply shut my mouth and go within and try to work out what I’m going through.  Admittedly, tonight, I had to seethe a little bit before I was able to calm down and come back to the conclusion that getting angry now isn’t going to change the past.  During the drive with my mom back to her residence I contemplated confronting her with my feelings.  Thankfully, I didn’t.  I kept it to myself and felt a bit regretful that our evening didn’t end on a better note.  Once I settled down further, I decided I may bring it up to my mom, another day, in a much calmer manner and in a way that conveys to her that my anger is a by-product of my childhood pain.  Not in a way that will make her feel bad, that’s not my goal, just in a way that lets her know this is how I’ve always felt.  I want her to know that there was a reason for my poor behaviour and that I’m not just a bitch.

I chose not to explain my behaviour to my husband because he does not seem to be able to see my point of view or believe that I have a right to my feelings.  If it’s something he doesn’t understand, which he really can’t because he doesn’t know all of my history, then he just says I’m a bitch and immediately thinks the worst.  I really didn’t feel like defending myself to my husband about a relationship that has developed the way it has over the past 37 years.  Quite frankly I was embarrassed of the way I behaved.  My relationship with my mother is complex and it is one that I still haven’t quite figured out.  The downside is that his opinion of me has been reduced further still.