not as healed as i thought

did you ever have one of those days/moods where you feel like you could (and you really want to) make every person you come into contact with just absolutely break down in tears and question their very existence on earth?

i promise, i’m working on my healing journey.

back in the day there was a little less restraint.

back in the covid days, there were some mean, and i mean really, really mean emails to property management. years before that, i told a car dealership i would drive my new car through their front window if they didn’t fix a financing mistake (fuck wells fargo, i stand by that one). much, much further back in time, i went toe to toe with a principal demanding teacher discipline and/or removal (i stand by that one too: if you’re not a doctor, don’t tell me my kid needs medication). a few standouts on the highlight reel of “Not My Best Moments.”

there is a vicious, mean, calculated, stunningly precise beast of destruction and degradation that lives deep in my soul.

maybe it’s being a virgo. maybe it’s being a protective parent. maybe it’s being neurodivergent with an astoundingly strong sense of justice. maybe it’s being a female who spent 20+ years in construction/industrial jobs. maybe it’s all of them. maybe it’s just me.

i’ve been working on her.

some days are kinder than others.

today is a day i’m glad i have a desk away from everyone because…oof.

my new utility bill arrived and it’s over $100. AGAIN. even though i’m rarely home. fucking slumlord apartment manager. i would scream like a feral raccoon in his face for an hour if i saw him today. that slimy fucker really lied to my face about this fucking apartment. disgusting kitchen walls that drip gods only know how old nicotine blood down the walls anytime you attempt to cook anything. a shower that takes a seinfeld long time to get hot water. fake hardwood floors that not only make everything so fucking cold all the time, but they also remove all sound dampening so EVERYTHING is loud. and, the real punch in the gut, floorboard heaters that not only barely work, they run constantly, even when turned off, so your bill is over $100 every month.i specifically talked to him about needing reliable heat when i was apartment hunting as my then home had been without heat for a month.

“this will be such an improvement,” he assured me. “we work really hard to maintain the property. just let us know any time there’s a problem and we’ll fix it right away.”

if by fix it you mean delete the maintenance request, then yeah, they totally fix things.

it’s to the point where my neighbor is the one cleaning the grounds, fixing signs, doing what the property management should be doing.

awesome neighbor. shitass fucking property manager.

downed tree branches from storms in december? still blocking sidewalks.

plants and shrubs? overgrown, infringing on public walkways, and mostly dead.

lighting along sidewalks for not only residents, but the community at large since we’re a bus stop corner? as burned out as a 45 year old neurodivergent woman.

one fucking slumlord to the next.

i’m not the only one. my partner has a property management firm equally as bad.

property management in general is so fucking terrible and incompetent, i swear most managers are only one sexual assault accusation away from being nominated for a cabinet position in washington d.c.

yeah, i know, i told you i’m working on that healing thing. some days are two steps forward, some days are just screaming into the void. at least i’m not screaming at people any more. progress or something like it.

but man. she’s right there under the surface. that feral raccoon. she still screams, “...why don’t you try using your head? you know, that lump three feet above your ass!” but at least now it’s an inside my head voice, not and outside where people can hear voice.

 

maybe it’s the weather. maybe it’s because i forgot to eat lunch again. i’m just so fucking fed up with…well…i mean…anyone alive right now gets it.

it’s hard to be kind and have empathy right now. in a world where the bad guys keep winning. when all the assertions of “that’s illegal” only work if there’s someone to enforce the laws. listening to all the “he can’t do that” being repeatedly drowned out by people doing whatever the fuck they want. laws broken. lives destroyed. communities gutted. rampant abuse uncovered. we’re surrounded on all fronts by all the most absolutely vile, putrid, rotting decay, festering abscessed wound, blindingly incompetent, unquestionably worst of humanity on full display.

boy, did i pick a great time to be working on my healing.

i’m holding on by my freshly manicured nails (raspberry pink this time) and a 528Hz healing frequency playlists on spotify.

but at least i’m still trying.

i’m working on talking to people when there’s a concern instead of just blowing up a bridge and walking away. i’m working on giving space and empathy before assuming the worst. i’m relying heavily on the “incompetent over intentional” perspective of human behavior.

i can zoom out and understand i’m not the only tenant with issues. i’m not the only person offended by things in the world. i’m not the only one having a hard time in this dumpster fire of existence. people have bad days. things happen. the shit storm is *rarely* specifically aimed at me and more just bad timing and unfortunate proximity. i can understand: we’re all broke, over worked, under loved, over taxed. we're all running on restless sleep and too expensive coffee. i can understand that i am but a little teeny tiny blip in the overall existence of humanity on the small scale and of existence as a whole on the large scale. i can understand that kindness is always the better path, because it’s what feels right in my core. i can understand SO MANY THINGS.

but also, don’t be a shitass, shitass. do your fucking job. be true to your word. do what’s best for humanity, not just yourself. work to leave the world a better place than you found it. don’t fucking piss me off.

i’m really trying here.

kindness matters

i grew up in a house with the philosophy: “the world is hard, so we’re going to be hard on you to prepare you for it.”

as an 80’s kid, i know this wasn’t unique. we were the generation where they had to run commercials to remind our parents to hug us and make sure we came home when the streetlights came on.

looking back a generation or two, it’s not difficult to suss out where this ideology comes from: my grandmother was a widow with 3 babies and one on the way in 1955. my mom was divorced with 2 kids in 1982. those were HARD ROADS. those were really hard roads. my grandmother was born in 1929. that’s so many wars, the great depression, social upheaval. my mom was born in 1955. that’s even more wars, more recessions, even more social upheaval.

life was hard. add in…well…everything. being women. being mothers. before credit cards. before birth control. before divorce was acceptable. i don’t know, because we weren’t a family that talked, but hedging my bets i’d say dollars to donuts there’s some abuse in there too. physical, probably. emotional, for sure. mental, yup. financial, without a doubt.

i understand, woman to woman, wanting to prepare your daughter (children) for what’s coming. it has been generations of struggle and the world being hard.

but here’s the thing: it’s been generations of struggle and the world being hard. the world just is hard. no matter what.

so, why does home have to be as well?

i started feeling that shift in thinking a few years ago, unfortunately, after my kids were already out of the house. i raised my kids with the same mentality: the world is hard, you need to be tough. for that, i’m eternally sorry.

now, i wonder: if the world is hard and will always be hard, why does home have to be?

why can’t home be the soft place to land when the world knocks you around? why can’t home be the safe harbor from the storm that’s always either brewing or raging, alternatively.

the world is hard. strangers can be really mean. life can punch you square in the face, really fucking hard some days. you get exhausted. you get worn down. it is mean. it is hard.

do i want someone screaming in my face to keep going? someone literally hitting or pushing me forward? is it helpful to have someone screaming about weakness and failure and discouragement? 

or do i want someone to say: sit down for a moment, catch your breath, regain your balance. take a knee. take some of my energy. take some of my kindness, my softness. recharge yourself. are you ready? take a deep breath. you can keep going. you can do it. i believe in you.

i was bullied a lot as a kid. A LOT. i mean, to be fair i was undiagnosed, unattended, and unusual. i was the super weird kid that preferred adults over peers. i would rather stay home and read a book than do anything outside. i was (am) wicked smart with an incredibly strong sense of justice: aka: a rule follower, a snitch and a square. throw in a heavy dose of religious superiority and i was no fun at all. as a result, the bullying came from all directions: brothers, cousins, classmates, teachers. eventually partners, coworkers, bosses, friends. 

i’ve heard it all. i’ve heard all about my size, my skin, my glasses, my hair, my clothes, my interests, my inability (or awkwardness) to interact in social settings. i know i’m weird. i know i do things weird and wrong. i’m too picky. i’m too loud. i’m too boring. i’m too embarrassing. i’m exhausting. i know all the things. i’ve heard it as long as i can remember.

and, spoiler alert, all that hardness didn’t make anything any easier to hear or deal with as a kid and it has yet to make anything easier to deal with as an adult. 

people are still mean and i’m not any better prepared. it still hurts.

for example: seventy two. 72. that’s how many interviews i went on while unemployed for 7 months between 2023 and 2024. that’s a lot of meanness. that’s a lot of rejection and people telling you that you don’t fit and they don’t want you. especially when most of those interviews are in industrial/construction industries. they REALLY don’t like different people.

none of the meanness or rejection from childhood prepared me for that. it still hurt. it was still really fucking brutal.

having a partner call me retarded and embarrassing wasn’t any easier because i’ve already heard it thousands of times from my brother.

having men on dating apps call me a fat cunt that no one wants doesn’t get any easier the 10th or 100th time. 

having strangers on the streets laugh at my clothes wasn’t any easier because my mom had already taught me to hate my body.

being rejected by friends isn’t any easier at 40 than it was at 14.

the world is hard. it’s always been hard, it will always be hard.

so i choose softness.

be what you needed when you were little.

i needed someone to say: that was mean. you didn’t deserve that. you don’t have to listen to that. you’re an amazing human, just as you are.

if they can’t change it in 5 seconds or 5 minutes, shut the fuck up about it.

toilet paper on your shoe? sure i’ll say something. shoes that, to me, don’t quite match the outfit and look too worn out? shut the fuck up. who knows what they can find that fits or that they can afford.

broccoli stuck in your teeth? sure i’ll say something. missing teeth? shut the fuck up about it. i don’t know their family genetics or the status of their dental insurance.

i’ve had people say some of the most unkind things about everything imaginable. what the hell are birthing hips? what is a shelf butt? what is a pizza face? what does making sound effects when i walk by accomplish? what does giggling in a group while i slowly realize that wasn’t a complement do? what satisfaction comes from saying the meanest and the cruelest things, just because? 

and, again, spoiler alert, all the “preparation” of my youth still hasn’t made and of it any easier.

so, now i choose kindness.

i choose a compliment over a criticism. i choose encouragement instead of berating. i choose a polite smile instead of a sneer of judgement.

kindness matters.

there’s no shortage of people in this world waiting to tell you how wrong you are. there’s always someone around to point out a mistake. always someone to make fun of an outfit or a haircut or a perceived flaw.

in the united states right now, the cruelty is the point. all the rhetoric. all the hate speech. the laws being rescinded. the families being separated. the cabal of rich elites hoarding resources. all the attacks- verbal or literal bombs. the cruelty is the point. unnecessary, humanity stripping, absolutely destructive intentional cruelty.

there’s more than enough of that in the world. 

i’ve had more than enough of that.

i choose kindness. i choose to be the soft place.

come, sit beside me. take some of my kindness. take some of my softness. let me encourage you. let me support you. let me cheer you on. let me help you catch your breath to face another day.

in a world of cruelty, choose kindness.