Lame Ass

Last night I left a meeting utterly triggered and antsy, ready to crawl out of my own skin. This, my friends, should not be how a meeting affects one.

Upon arriving about ten minutes early, I parked my car and walked up to the church. Seeing two girls I sorta had met before, both members of my home group, I approach them with a smile. I ask something like, uh, “Hey. How’s it going?” One of the two mutters something that sounds like “hey,” and the other completely blanks me. She stares at me, takes a drag of her cigarette, and stares at me some more.

Ashamed and embarrassed, I put out my cigarette and go into the church, avoiding looking at anyone that may have seen this very public snub. I was hurt. I was insanely embarrassed. And I was angry.

By the time I left the meeting, the hurt had turned more to pure, simmering bitterness and I had a devastating thought.

“Fuck it. I want to go to a bar and I want to sit at that bar and I want to drink and I want to get fucked up. Fuck them.”

Makes all kinds of sense, doesn’t it? People hurt me and so thoroughly destroying myself is somehow the answer? Right. [Aside: Addicts are insane. That is all.]

I didn’t go a bar. I went home and I took my dog out and I called Jed and whined to him about the girls’ (despicable) behavior. And Jed reminded me, in the midst of my ranting that everyone is suffering. I damn well know everyone is suffering, but my feeeeeelings were still hurt.

I’ve since calmed down and I’ve thought about and this is where I am: I don’t like being vulnerable (diggity duh) and I have, in this past year, allowed myself to be vulnerable. And when you do that, kiddies, you open yourself up to the possibility of real hurt.

So be it.*

*They still bitches.

I feel better.



Filed under Recovery

5 responses to “Lame Ass

  1. Oh man, I’m so with you. I HATE feeling vulnerable. And yes, they still bitches. Lame ones. But it doesn’t make it sting any less. I think having a blog makes me feel vulnerable sometimes, too. A lot of times. It just makes you feel so exposed, you know? And not everyone will like you, and there’s NOTHING you can do about it. So you have to sort of decide if you want to keep putting yourself out there like that or go all out and risk people being idiots. Well, clearly, I’m risking the idiocy of others. The key is to protect yourself (and privacy) as much as you can. I think it’s the same in real life. Can’t hide in a cave (or a bar) just because people are lame asses. Just have to hang tight to the people that matter, the ones who do care about you and love you and will fling mud at the lame bitches with you.

    • sarafraser

      Yeah, man, the blogging will do it. I sometimes post, then read, then wonder if I should delete. And I don’t, but yes, I know exactly what you mean. I’m ok with not everyone liking me. I think. Maybe.

  2. So. Here’s my two cents – they still bitches, yes. But it’s kind of like what my grammy always told me when I was little re: snakes and spiders and other harmless critters that would have me shitting myself, “Honey, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

    Now that I’m all grown up, people tell me it’s ’cause girls like that are “jealous” or “haters” or whatever. I don’t buy that, but I DO buy that some people simply cannot open themselves up to others, especially if said others aren’t hiding their lights under a bushel. (Quoting the Bible makes me feel funny.) They really ARE more scared of me (or you or whoever) than I am (or, at least, than I OUGHT to be).

    So shine on, you beautiful light. They still bitches, and you? You still awesome.

  3. Pingback: Baby step to four o’clock | Misadventures of a Modern Mommy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s