Tuesday, February 13, 2007


Endurance. That was survival to me. Always was. Put up with, deal with, bury issues, bury slights, indignities, insult, cruelty. Punch me and I'd bounce right back like the Bozo punching toy I had as a kid. Because I was tough. I could take it... and take it... and take it.

I'm back
Is that all you got?
That's nothing.
It's okay... I must deserve it.

Pow back
I cut you out of my life.

And that is survival. Endure until saturation is reached and then amputate. Coldly, efficiently and permanently. No looking back, no regrets and no forgiveness.

My M.O. in a nutshell.

I have a temper. It's vile. Unspeakably cruel. And vicious. But it does not show often. It takes years and years of build up before it explodes. Because I am a survivor. I can take it. I can take bad treatment, I can take insensitivity, I can take and take and take.... it's how I was brought up. The good girl who shuts up and takes it. Until she doesn't any more. Then it's my turn - and you'd better duck.

I let stuff build up because it's a matter of belief.

Belief that the person causing the 'bad' must eventually get it. Must eventually understand what they are doing. Do you really need to be told when you are treating a 'friend' like shit? Let's say you actively attempt to seduce someone that your 'friend' is involved with; let's say you do that in FRONT of that 'friend'. Do you really need to be told that your behavior is inexcusable? Of course not, you know it is - if you choose to do it any way you no longer get to punch the bozo bag. It punches back. And you don't get another chance, because you used up all your free shots.

I am no one's mother, therefore it is not my job to impart to anyone a sense of ethics or morality or justice. I often joke that people can say anything to me - even things that others might take offense at, or be hurt by. It's a little bit of a joke, but really I have a pretty thick skin and I give (most) people the benefit the doubt with foot in mouth disease. I also take it as something of a compliment that people feel free enough to say what they want to me, so I don't take offense. Unless it goes on for a long period (and by long I'm talking YEARS- endurance, remember?) untempered by thoughtfulness and kindness. Then it becomes clear that this is not simply a thoughtless person, but someone who has no respect for me. . . don't dare to call me friend if you do not respect me. Don't try it.

This happy little post was inspired by a moping, whiny post I saw on another, very popular, blog. Apparently this blogger is bemoaning the loss of a high-school 'best friend'. Someone who cut her out of her life... and she "just doesn't know why". This is years after the fact and she's still whining about the "why". There is considerable evidence in the post itself that the friend who cut her off is a lot like me. She took a lot of selfish, thoughtless, self-righteous, judgemental behavior (which blog-girl actually recounts in her post but still doesn't see as disrespectful to her 'friend') until she couldn't any more and as it was not her job to teach selfish blog-girl how to treat people, she simply did what she needed to survive. She amputated the crap out of her life. I think she did the right thing.

I have cut a lot of people out of my life. Friends, lovers, family... and I do not regret any of them. The people I choose to have in my life now are gems, and none of them ever make me feel bad, or insulted or disrespected. The wheat from the chaff as it were. I feel no loss, no sorrow or melancholy at the absence of the those toxic people from my life. In fact, what I feel relief at not having to deal with their crap any more. And I like myself a helluva lot more without them than I did with them.

They may feel some loss and sorrow towards me, in fact I'm sure a couple do. However, I do not believe they actually miss ME, because they did not respect me, did not care about my feelings; what they DO miss is Bozo. They miss the sounding board they could say anything to with no repercussion, could treat in any cavalier way they chose, the idiot who would help out on a dime, who was so careful of their 'sensitive feelings'... but did not merit the same in return.

To those people I am delighted to have OUT of my life (should they ever stumble upon this blog) I suggest this: get a Bozo bop bag - they work really well and never get fed-up. And if you ever wonder why I cut you out of my life without an explanation, be grateful: the ones who have heard the explanation heard it through the filter of my extremely nasty temper. You got off easy if you got no explanation. Trust me. You'll survive.

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