The world is mean. Horribly, horrifically mean.
Don't try to tell me otherwise. I know there is a lot of good in this world, I SEE a lot of good every single day (because I look for it), but really? It's a dog-eat-dog world and I'm wearing t-bone underwear. So are you.
Your house, though? It doesn't have to be that way.
You see, I'm a snowflake. So are my children. We're all delicate. We don't like confrontation or shouting or people being mean, and therefore, somehow, we are fragile and stupid and ridiculous and people to be mocked. People sneer when they talk about us, because WE are the problem. WE are too soft and too weak. WE need to change.
I, personally, need to toughen up. I've heard it a million times throughout my life. Never mind I've sat through customer calls where people were shouting at me, swearing at me, or telling me I should be fired for things like "there was an extra space in this email!". Completely ignore the fact that I was utterly heartbroken by the things that my ex-husband said to me while I was pregnant when he decided he didn't love me and never had. When he found me passed out on the floor and kicked me in the pregnant stomach to see if I was still alive because he thought I might be dead and he "didn't want to touch the body". Never mind the fact that he said he wished I had died and that no one loved me anyway. Forget the weeks I spent in the NICU praying that these little children of mine would not die, could not die. Don't even think about all the times I've been made fun of, taken advantage of, mocked, and hurt.
I survived all of that, but I'm not tough enough. Not for this world.
I mean, I've held my chin up high. I kept doing everything I can to make work tolerable, including being kind and responsive to people who are mean to me. I didn't let my ex-husband break my heart completely and I have been able to be a good partner to the right man. I didn't let my children's rocky start into this world ruin their lives: there is no bubble around them and never has been. Skin your knees, get your heart broken, learn tough lessons: being a preemie doesn't shield you. Mock me, hurt me...I'm still here.
Mean? I can't stand it.
"Kids these days are so sensitive," people say, pronouncing the word sensitive the way I would pronounce something like, "your giant hairy butthole". Like being sensitive is some character flaw or defect.
I'm here to tell you. It's just not.
I hurt. I don't always talk about how much I hurt, but I do. There are so many things that I will never be able to talk about, or write about. That's okay, not every hurt needs to be shared. But just because I carry it all so well does not mean it's not really heavy. Really, really heavy.
I carry it anyway and it's not going to turn me mean.
I've decided that 2020 will be the year that I step away from a lot of people and things that don't bring me joy. It's time. It's past time, really. I've spent the last few years in an almost paralyzed state of pain. I had no idea I knew so many hateful, hurtful people. I feel like my eyes have been opened to so many really awful things in the last few years. I'm hurt. I mean, I guess that's not surprising, right? The poor little whiny snowflake is hurt. What else is new?
Because I deal with my hurt. Snowflakes do that, you know. We talk about our feelings. We work through things. We take extra special care to make sure our snowflake kids don't hurt the same way we do. We sit through hours of therapy, because we need it. You need it too, frankly, but we get that you don't get that. You're tough and we're weak and that's the difference between us.
That's okay, though. Really.
Peace is coming for me.
I hope it is for you too.