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You don’t deserve that much of my bandwidth.
I’ve given enough of my time and energy to you. It’s all been positive and good and loving.
I’m not going to ruin my track record now because of your shitty life.
You made your bed. You lie in it.
Stay jealous of me, though. It might inspire you to reach higher.
Peace.
I have a lot of acquaintances. I have a lot of good acquaintances. I have some friends. Of those friends, most of them are male. There is a reason for that. The reason?
Most women suck.
I learned at a very early age that women tend to be spiteful, catty and malicious. Even when they are well intentioned, they can’t help speaking from a place of jealousy most of the time. I hesitate to use the word “envy”, because I tend to put a positive spin on that word. There are definitely things I envy about some of my friends. I envy my kid sisters gorgeous, thick brown hair and her insane ability to cook. I envy another friends gorgeous wardrobe. Still, another friend manages to make her life look so effortless and breezy easy. I don’t covet these things, but I sure as shit wish I knew how they do what they do and manage to do it with ease.
What I don’t do is begrudge my female friends their beauty, their strength or the wonderful things that happen in their lives.
It seems to me that when really great things happen in our female friends lives, we don’t entirely focus on their happiness, but rather, use it as a gauge to figure out exactly where we are on the scale of female perfection. I have been steadily working on that with myself. I try to realize that when enormously wonderful things happen to my girlfriends, it doesn’t mean I am less than. It only means I have yet another goal to strive towards.
Recently, a friend clued me in that someone I considered a friend, who I have known via the blog realm for nearly 5 years has been talking shit behind my back. Now, I am no stranger to criticism and back-stabbing. I’ve been hearing women talk shit about me since the day I was old enough to understand it. I’m okay with it. My mother always told me, feel bad for the girls who talk about you. It means they have nothing in their own lives worth talking about. One thing I can say about Esther, she sure knew how to make an impact on my tender pre-pubescent psyche.
Back to my point.
This “friend” tore me up in a letter? Email? Blog post? I’m not sure the medium. I didn’t ask. I frankly don’t care enough to ask. What I do know is I was chastised for the following:
1) I brag about my husband too much. I will reply to this with an “absofuckinglutely”. I do. My husband is awesome. He’s better than your husband. He’s better than you. He’s even better than me. I believe that the Christians have not yet realized that my husband IS the second coming of the Messiah that they have long been waiting for. Until they realize that, I will keep him as the best kept secret Judaism has ever seen since the burning bush. He loves me unconditionally, flaws and all. He loves my children as though they were bred from his loins. He has three jobs all to support my dream of heading back to school to do the work I long to do. He is a good friend to everyone who meets him. He is KIND. Like, “walk an old lady across the street while he pushes her stalled vehicle across three lanes of traffic” sort of kind. He is a devoted grandfather who cannot get enough of his grandkids. So, do I brag about him? Yes, because he is worthy of this praise and should have it heaped upon him every single day. And, yes, you should have to know that he is the reason I am happy. If you were really my friend, you would love that about him and be thrilled for me. Just because your husband hasn’t touched you since the new millennium began, don’t hate on me for it. Buy yourself a vibrator, dust out the old vag canal and handle your business.
2) I brag about my “things”. No. I don’t brag about my things. I tell people about my things because I want them to have similar things. Similarly, I expect to hear about YOUR things, because if you are happy with something…I would hope you would want me to have that same feeling. Do I get excited about an upcoming vacation? Certainly. Am I not allowed to voice that? Do I talk about my shoe obsession? Yes. And to someone who is not a shoe whore, I can see where that would be annoying. However, I don’t begrudge you your new breadmaker? Salad shooter? Curtains? Shop Vac? Whatever the fuck it is that brings you pleasure, I applaud it. I don’t get it. I don’t understand it. But, I do understand that whatever it is, it is making your life just a bucket of awesome, therefore, it is doing the same for me too.
3) I brag about my grandchildren. Wow. This one cracked my ass up. Is there a grandmother on the face of this earth who doesn’t do that? I’m sorry you didn’t produce children of your own who in turn will provide you with the joy of grandkids, but that is hardly my fault. My grandkids are amazing little creatures who change and grow every day. Every day they bring something new and fascinating into my life. I love this brand new aspect of my life. Do I tell you not to brag about your dogs? Cats? You say these are your “furry children”. Well then, act like it. Enjoy them. Have fun with them. Let them make you laugh…and in turn, share the funny with me! I’d love to hear it. No, really. I would. I’m not you.
There were other things, like for example, my coffee maker. Yes. My coffee maker. Sure, that goes under the category of “things”, but this one had to be separate because in this letter/email/blog post about me, it was a separate issue for this person as well. Apparently, the fact that my husband bought us an industrial sized Keurig was of grave concern to this person. So much so, that she went on to discuss why HER coffee maker was far more awesome.
I also brag about: My charity work. My writing gigs. (Really? I usually keep those kind of private). My grades. (Totally fuck you on this one. I work for those A’s, bitch. I work hard.) I can go on and on. It’s truly fucking laughable at this point.
Has it seriously come to this?
So, this is why women suck. We all have jealousies and insecurities. But, the measure of a good woman is the one who can put that on the back burner to allow for genuine happiness for a friends good fortune. And honestly, am I a braggart? I would suggest a thorough read of my blog would answer that for you. I have been through a LOAD of shit in my lifetime. Was I bragging about the losses I have suffered? The man who beat me relentlessly for 2 years? My past drug addiction? My struggle with bipolar disorder? No. Unless of course you are under the belief that I am one of those people who feels they have to “one up” everyone else’s sob stories. I don’t believe that’s me either. I’m just a real person. I talk. A lot. I talk about the good things in my life openly just the same way I talk about the not so good things. If it seems like there has been more of the former as of late, well, there has been. And honestly, I feel I have earned the good things that have come my way over the past few years.
I am a good person at heart. I love my family to the ends of the earth and would lay down and die for any of them. I am fervently devoted to my friends. (Is that bragging or is that simply a statement of fact? I think the lines are starting to blur for me). I think I am smart, funny, confident, interesting and damn beautiful to look at. Oh, and I have a great rack. Again, not bragging…it just is what it is. The other day, I happened upon this quote:
There’s no such thing as bragging. You’re either lying or telling the truth.
I know I’m telling the truth. And sometimes, sister, the truth hurts…especially when it reflects your own personal truth right back at you and you don’t like what you see. For that reason alone, I forgive you. I hope you are strong enough to forgive yourself and allow yourself to know happiness in your life. You deserve that. Every woman does. Even you.
No. Especially you.
I was trying to define my blog to someone today. Tried to explain what it was about without saying something mundane like “Oh, it’s all about my ever so exciting life.” Truth of the matter is, my life is pretty exciting. Not in a “travel-all-over-the-world-make-love-to-diplomats-spend-too-much-cash” kind of way, but in a “hey, I accidentally shit myself while bending over to pick up a dust bunny” way. How fun is that?
The person I was talking to happily accepted that definition and then asked me another question that I truly could not answer.
“So, why don’t you put your blogposts up on Facebook? You’re friends must think you’re hilarious!”
*blink*
Truth be known, my “friends” do think I am hilarious. I am one of those chicks that goes straight from the heart to the mouth without a pit-stop at the brain in between. I tend to say whatever I am feeling in my heart at any given moment before my frontal lobe has a chance to say, “Er, CP? That MAY not be appropriate right now.” No. More poor brain is usually the organ that has to do damage control after my heart causes my tongue to flap.
But, yes indeed. WHY don’t I post my blog links on Facebook? Fair enough question.
I think there are a few reasons. First and foremost is privacy. Not MY privacy, mind you, but rather, my husband and children’s privacy. In the five years I have been blogging, I have never mentioned my husbands name. That is not to say that some of you don’t know the mans name. Some of you have met him in “real time”. And, some of you have known me longer than I have known him, so naturally, you would know who he is. Then, there are the select few (read: 3) who read my blog who know me in real life on a day to day basis. Most of my blog readers don’t even know MY name. And, when I meet a blogger in real life, they tend to call me “CP” anyway, because that’s how you know me. But, for the hotband, I have to maintain a modicum of privacy. He has a pretty high profile job and there is a certain decorum that comes with his job.
And then, I look at HIS Facebook page, and he puts up all sorts of horny looking fruit, inappropriate Jesus pics and makes homosexual references with all MY guy friends. So, WHY the hell am I holding back on my blog?
Because…if he wants to put himself out there, that’s his prerogative. I am still going to respect the boundaries, even though he never put any up for me.
Then, there is another aspect I have considered. My Facebook friends vs. My Blogger Friends. Some of you overlap into both categories. I think there are 14 of you, actually, who are “friended” on Facebook but started off knowing me via this blog. My Blog Friends are a much cooler breed. We understand that we can cross certain lines with one another. We know that one year in blog time is the equivalent of 5 years real time. Therefore, I know many of you longer in that sense than I do the people I have been friends with for 20 years or more. And, while my friends of 30 years care about me very much, I don’t think they want to know that I was a domestic violence survivor. I don’t think they care that I survived cancer. I don’t know that they would give a shit one way or another that I struggle with bipolar disorder on a daily basis. And, I believe that most of them would be entirely too judgmental with regard to my drug addiction and subsequent recovery.
So, it begs the question…are these “friends” on Facebook ACTUALLY my friends?
I think in some ways, yes, we are. We have history. We have memories of our childhood and our youth. That’s something that we as adults tend to cling to. My husband, as close as we are, will never understand how I grew up. He doesn’t know what it was like to be a little kid living in NYC no more than I can ever know about his experiences growing up in Israel. It’s nice to have those people in your life that you can reminisce with. It’s fun. But, does it provide a longevity to the relationship? Not really. When I reconnected with some old junior high friends on Facebook, it was a blast. We couldn’t stop talking about growing up in Queens and what it meant to each of us. How it shaped us into the adults we are today. We talked, shared, laughed…and then, burnt it out. While we still engage in some witty banter here and there, do I think any of these people would drop whatever they were doing to be at my side if something traumatic happened in my life?
*sighs* No. No I don’t. Even the person I was closest to growing up has turned her back on me in some aspects. She hides my feed because I am (insert adjective for vulgar, crass, classless, rude, explicit, etc.). And I get it. She’s got her kids on her Facebook. Can’t have me talking about the new lube and vibrators I bought on my status and have it show up on her wall, right? I do get it. That’s also why my son is NOT my Facebook friend…nor are my nephews and nieces. As far as I am concerned, Facebook is NO place for children, period. But, to each their own. My daughter is on my Facebook…but she’s 22, married and knows that her mother is a tad fucked in the head. My son is only first learning that. Why rush it? He’ll get it soon enough.
Which brings me back to the original question. Why don’t I post my blogposts on Facebook? The answer is…I don’t quite know. I suppose there might be a small part of me that is going to wonder what people will think of me, which is ironic because I am definitely one of those people who generally don’t give a fuck what others think of me. But, these are childhood friends who have a certain vision of me, a particular memory that I don’t want to taint. Then again, I suppose true friends would love you regardless and understand that the person you were at 14 is not necessarily the person you are at 40.
Then, there is the BIG reason I don’t post my blog posts on Facebook. My brother. He’s a great guy. He totally knows how screwed up I am. He is equally as fucked in the brain. We were raised by the same woman…and THAT, Dear Friends, is the ULTIMATE reason. The one that trumps all. I simply CANNOT have Esther reading my blog. I love my mother but, if you are a long time reader or know her in real life, you know what an absolute LOONEY TUNE she is. If she ever caught wind of the things that I write about her…she’d kill me. Not figuratively. Literally. Like, I have given instructions to my husband to form my blog into a book posthumously if she ever kills me so everyone knows what an absolute banshee she is/was. Don’t get me wrong. There is a certain beauty to being raised by a psychopath. It allows me to be quirky, strange and crazy. When I tell people I am bipolar, they nod. Then, they meet my mom…and suddenly, they nod emphatically…and it all just comes together for them.
The crazy thing is, I have met such interesting and amazing people on Facebook. People that I do NOT know from my past or that I blog with or know in real life. Simply people who I have met in passing either playing a game or stumbling onto their page. Really great people. I would love to share my blog posts with them…but still, I feel some hesitation and restraint.
*raises brows*
Hesitation? Restraint? Foreign concepts to me that I am STILL getting used to.
So, for right now, I am simply using the website “Networked Blogs” on Facebook as my tiny baby step, my little foray into taking my blog out of hiding. (There’s a link to it on my sidebar. No, lower. Lower. Yeah. Right there. Click it if you’re on Facebook.) I think, in reality, my blog will exist long after my old friendships fall away. This is home for me. This is where I feel best and can relax and be myself.
And, if you can’t be yourself…why be at all?
In the past few days alone, I have come across some amazing stories on the internet. Really ground roots kind of stuff. It all started when a person put a tip cup on their page asking for readers to pay for a luxury item. Anyone who has been reading me…or many other people for that matter, know where I stand on the issue.
However, something really amazing has come out of it. Something bigger.
In the past few days, I have been getting some incredible emails. People who I do not know, or are mutual blog friend with someone else that I know, emailing me to tell me about their financial burdens and troubles. Are they asking me for handouts? Absolutely not. What they are asking for is a sympathetic ear. They relate to the fact that my husband and I just lost our home to foreclosure. They understand what it is like to have to go out of town just to get a decent job. My husband flies every, single week to California to his job because Florida wages are for shit. I am running into people who have sick kids. REALLY sick kids, who require chemo treatments on a daily basis and need financial help. I have come across a blogger who started a letter writing campaign for a friend of his who was in a terrible, debilitating accident.
My eyes are really opening back up where the blog world is concerned and it took a big slap in the face to get my reality check paid in full.
What a great thing we have going here. What a deep connection we all share with one another. The ability to share your pain with a stranger can be the most liberating moment of your life. To free yourself of the burden and say “Hell, yeah. I totally relate to that”, is so freeing.
I absolutely encourage those emails to my inbox. I love reading them. I love responding to them. I love that I can reach out and share a cyber hug with someone and let them feel understood. No, I can’t afford to give away money to friends for luxury items. I simply can’t. But, what I can do is offer you my ear, my shoulder and perhaps a piece of wisdom or humor you can walk away with.
I take a little away from each and every one of you. Over the years, I have been blessed with having a great group of people around me. Supportive above and beyond the call of duty. And, while I have been housecleaning, I have also found some new friends who I am looking forward to getting to know a lot better.
There’s always room in my life for another good person. Even the questionable ones. Far be it for me to judge.
I am going to outline my feelings on the matter, once and for all, because I am not going to continue addressing the emails I keep getting on the subject. I feel like I should have an “auto-response” set up by now. So, here it is for everyone to read.
1. Let me clarify: I do not hate Adam or Britt. Not by a long shot. If you are writing me to get me to jump on that bandwagon, I am not on it. I care about both of them a great deal. While I am disappointed by some of the things that have gone on in the past few months, I cannot or will not bring myself to hate them.
2. I don’t care about the indiscretions. As I have said before, I have had my own share of affairs on previous husbands in the past. They were wrong, just as theirs was wrong. Having an affair behind your spouses back is an act of cowardice. I fall into that category as well. I am absolutely, positively NOT judging anybody for that at all.
3. The “birthday party” incident hurt a number of people. Some opted to get over it immediately. Some dwelled on it a bit longer and held it in to the point where they felt a little bitter about it. I fall into the latter of the two. I spoke to Adam about it and felt it best that we just let it go, water under the bridge I believe is the term we both used. And, while I did continue to snark about it even after that conversation, that was wrong of me. I am, from this point forward, letting it go. For those of you who haven’t yet, let me suggest that you do. If you feel slighted, I understand. It was hurtful, but, there comes a time when you just have to move on from that emotion. I am choosing now. There will be no further discussion on the matter from me.
4. If you want to know about Hilly, please write Hilly directly. I am not her spokesperson or her manager. She is a big girl capable of answering any questions you may have for her. I can’t speak on her behalf. I can tell you that she is just fine and has moved forward with her life. Any specifics will have to be addressed to her.
5. The ONLY thing that I do remain angry and disappointed about is the motorcycle issue. I told Britt that I found it tacky and disturbing. She knows how I feel on the subject. If you feel the same, write to her about it, as I did. I will state, for the record, that I am still hopeful that the money she raised for that motorcycle does NOT go to a motorcycle, but to a charitable organization of some sort. I don’t agree with pandering to your readers for money unless it is a financial crisis situation or you are doing so on behalf of a fundraiser. While I believe her intentions were pure (and I am basing this on a conversation I had with her directly), I still believe that it is the wrong thing for the right reasons. I have lost a modicum of respect for her for doing this…but that doesn’t make her an evil person. Just a bit misdirected. I am still holding out for the chance that she realizes that the money that was raised belongs in the hands of those who truly need help. A motorcycle for your husband does not qualify. But, in the end, that is her choice.
6. I said some very nasty things on another blog. Upon re-reading what I wrote, I realize that there are some things that I probably should not have said. They were hurtful and mean, representative more of the hurt and disappointment I was feeling and came out malicious and vile. This is not the way I want to come across. I am not usually that ugly unless provoked. I am not happy with some of the things that I wrote even if they were accurate. Of course, there is nothing I can do about that now, but here, for the record, I wanted it to be known that I am not encouraging anyone to bash Britt or Adam. There are times when you should just learn to shut up and walk away from a situation. I am still mastering that art as I have never been one to just clam up. Please do not write me any more emails with your laundry lists of what you hate/dislike about them. Write your own blogpost about it, email them directly or talk amongst your like-minded friends about it. I am not answering any more emails on the subject.
7. Definitely do NOT email me for tea and sympathy when it comes to your own hurt and disappointment with regard to Britt or Adam and then continue to have fun little blog comments and tweets sent to them. Wow. Hypocrites to the umpteenth degree. Be big boys and girls and talk to them directly. Please.
As for me, I am washing my hands of the entire matter. I am done. Most of what happened did not involve me. The things that did are the things I spoke about. Beyond that, I suggest you speak directly to the parties involved.
Aaaaaaaaaaaand…that’s all. CP is closed for business on this subject.
Next?