new lessons
It continues to surprise me how much easier life is than I’ve made it out to be for my time on this earth. I’m not saying it’s easy- it can be very hard. But easier than I’ve made it out to be in my head. In fact fuck easy- doable- that’s what life is. And I make everything out to be such a federal case that I shoot myself in the foot when things turn out to be really simple sometimes.
This dude that has the office next to mine- Italian dude- older- he’s been smoking in his office. Immediately I was furious. Spoke to my fellow office renters and went off about how inconsiderate it is and how I’m going to go rat him out to my landlord, etc. People asked me- did you say something to him? No- I didn’t. I didn’t even give him the chance to say sorry or to immediately rectify the situation. I just assumed it’d be a fight. I assumed he would roll his eyes at me or tell me to fuck off and I would have to reply violently or aggressively and I don’t want to do that. So I said nothing. My office mate knocked on his door and asked him to stop. Then after that the same office mate called my landlord to rat him out when there was smoke there again. So anyway- I come in today and all is well. The Italian guy is here- btw there are others in his office besides him so I didn’t know it was him who was smoking- I thought it was his son or his partner- who is quite arrogant and I don’t much care for. But this guy has always been nothing but kind to me since the time I met him. He’s my dad’s age, Italian, owns his own business. So- as far as life is concerned- he’s in the same position as my dad. But he’s always been considerate and kind to me. He never gave me any reason to think he’d tell me to fuck off if I said anything about the smoking. But then again- I’m starting to wonder if anyone gives me reasons to flip out or if it’s all just pent up shit from growing up with a family that let it be known how much better their life would be if I was mute.
I never got compassion when I complained about anything at all. On the contrary- I was abused each and every time. When I was a kid my mom was the abusive one (my parents were divorced)- she was snobby and acted like she was above it all- esp me. She let it be known how much I disgusted her as often as she could. She was pretty horrible. And her family made her look like a crème puff with their level of snobbiness/ passive aggressive fuck you’s. I was daddy’s little girl when I was growing up. Then my ma and my brother and I moved in w my dad. My mom and him were supposed to get back together. I knew it was bullshit from day one- but no one was going to listen to a 6th grader. But I said it. And of course- everyone thought I was crazy. “I can’t believe you’re not happy that your parents are getting back together. That’s so perfect! You know how many people would love to have that?” Yes. I did know how many people would love to have that. But those people aren’t me. My parents were divorced since I was 3. I was used to that at that point. I had my dad on my side and my mom was the snobby nasty bitch that I had to try to protect myself from. Then they got back together. And it was crazy to say the least. I’ll go into the rest of that later- just know that within a year they were sleeping in separate bedrooms and that’s how it stayed until my ma and I moved out. I’m just always amazed when people act right. And I’m amazed at how much stress I put myself under thinking everyone is going to react to me like my parents do- either looking at me like I was just some joke- the way my father always did- or looking at me like I was a piece of shit who was beneath them- like my mother did. It absolutely debilitates me when I have to ask for kindness or understanding or compassion from others. It is the hardest thing in the WORLD to ask for help. Even when people say straight out- “please, if there is anything I can do to help out in any way – don’t hesitate to ask” my stomach still churns at the thought of asking them for help. B/c my parents used to say that too. They needed to believe and they needed the rest of the world to think that they were the best parents ever. So when I did things on my own and people would ask me why I’d tell the truth “well it’s not like my dad is going to do it for me.” Or my ma. Some variation of that sentence. And that’s where I fucked up- that’s what would bring real trouble. YOU DON’T SPEAK OUT AGAINST THE FAMILY. If you do then you’re dead to them. My father and mother would embarrass the SHIT out of me so often for telling the truth. Call me ungrateful. “After all I do for you….” And let me give you the end to that sentence- whatever the words might be that actually come out of the persons mouth- what they really mean is “After all I do for you you’d think I’d bought the right to abuse you and have you shut the fuck up about it and put a big smile on your face while I tell you what a piece of shit you are in front of people.” That’s what everyone means when they utter any variation of “After all I do for you…”
When I knocked on that door and told that dude he couldn’t smoke he was very kind. He said “but the window’s open.” I shook my head no. He said “okay that’s fine.” In a nice way. No anger. So all of that angst was for nothing. Well I guess not nothing. Realizing why it is I have this fear of others is the first step in solving it.
This dude that has the office next to mine- Italian dude- older- he’s been smoking in his office. Immediately I was furious. Spoke to my fellow office renters and went off about how inconsiderate it is and how I’m going to go rat him out to my landlord, etc. People asked me- did you say something to him? No- I didn’t. I didn’t even give him the chance to say sorry or to immediately rectify the situation. I just assumed it’d be a fight. I assumed he would roll his eyes at me or tell me to fuck off and I would have to reply violently or aggressively and I don’t want to do that. So I said nothing. My office mate knocked on his door and asked him to stop. Then after that the same office mate called my landlord to rat him out when there was smoke there again. So anyway- I come in today and all is well. The Italian guy is here- btw there are others in his office besides him so I didn’t know it was him who was smoking- I thought it was his son or his partner- who is quite arrogant and I don’t much care for. But this guy has always been nothing but kind to me since the time I met him. He’s my dad’s age, Italian, owns his own business. So- as far as life is concerned- he’s in the same position as my dad. But he’s always been considerate and kind to me. He never gave me any reason to think he’d tell me to fuck off if I said anything about the smoking. But then again- I’m starting to wonder if anyone gives me reasons to flip out or if it’s all just pent up shit from growing up with a family that let it be known how much better their life would be if I was mute.
I never got compassion when I complained about anything at all. On the contrary- I was abused each and every time. When I was a kid my mom was the abusive one (my parents were divorced)- she was snobby and acted like she was above it all- esp me. She let it be known how much I disgusted her as often as she could. She was pretty horrible. And her family made her look like a crème puff with their level of snobbiness/ passive aggressive fuck you’s. I was daddy’s little girl when I was growing up. Then my ma and my brother and I moved in w my dad. My mom and him were supposed to get back together. I knew it was bullshit from day one- but no one was going to listen to a 6th grader. But I said it. And of course- everyone thought I was crazy. “I can’t believe you’re not happy that your parents are getting back together. That’s so perfect! You know how many people would love to have that?” Yes. I did know how many people would love to have that. But those people aren’t me. My parents were divorced since I was 3. I was used to that at that point. I had my dad on my side and my mom was the snobby nasty bitch that I had to try to protect myself from. Then they got back together. And it was crazy to say the least. I’ll go into the rest of that later- just know that within a year they were sleeping in separate bedrooms and that’s how it stayed until my ma and I moved out. I’m just always amazed when people act right. And I’m amazed at how much stress I put myself under thinking everyone is going to react to me like my parents do- either looking at me like I was just some joke- the way my father always did- or looking at me like I was a piece of shit who was beneath them- like my mother did. It absolutely debilitates me when I have to ask for kindness or understanding or compassion from others. It is the hardest thing in the WORLD to ask for help. Even when people say straight out- “please, if there is anything I can do to help out in any way – don’t hesitate to ask” my stomach still churns at the thought of asking them for help. B/c my parents used to say that too. They needed to believe and they needed the rest of the world to think that they were the best parents ever. So when I did things on my own and people would ask me why I’d tell the truth “well it’s not like my dad is going to do it for me.” Or my ma. Some variation of that sentence. And that’s where I fucked up- that’s what would bring real trouble. YOU DON’T SPEAK OUT AGAINST THE FAMILY. If you do then you’re dead to them. My father and mother would embarrass the SHIT out of me so often for telling the truth. Call me ungrateful. “After all I do for you….” And let me give you the end to that sentence- whatever the words might be that actually come out of the persons mouth- what they really mean is “After all I do for you you’d think I’d bought the right to abuse you and have you shut the fuck up about it and put a big smile on your face while I tell you what a piece of shit you are in front of people.” That’s what everyone means when they utter any variation of “After all I do for you…”
When I knocked on that door and told that dude he couldn’t smoke he was very kind. He said “but the window’s open.” I shook my head no. He said “okay that’s fine.” In a nice way. No anger. So all of that angst was for nothing. Well I guess not nothing. Realizing why it is I have this fear of others is the first step in solving it.
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