So I went to therapy, and we ended up talking about childhood, which, no matter how, “I’m an adult, I’m not dealing with childhood” I am, apparently childhood can fuck up your shit and stunt your development and make you a goddamn weirdo as an adult, so now we have to talk about it and I almost cried twice and FUCK crying, crying is for teenagers and women who watch Lifetime and also fuck fuck fuck don’t wanna don’t wanna don’t wanna.
*pant* *pant* *pant*
Ahem. WHAT stunted development…?
“Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?”
“Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.”
Oh, OK. So I can be messaging back and forth with a perfectly nice guy from OkCupid, and inadvertently say something that reminds me of my ex, then of That Guy, then back to my ex, and now I’m crying?
Sure, yeah — I am absolutely ready to be dating, even casually. It will not end badly at all.
I understand this is how I move on, and I’m sure a time will come when it doesn’t feel like cheating, but…not so far.
I could blame PMS, but I think I might just be ready to embrace my obvious destiny to die sexless and alone.
We’ll just add this to the therapy list. That woman is earning her money.
This is probably a story that would’ve been more useful before Christmas, but maybe we can all carry the concept into the new year…
One of the best things my ex ever did for me was help me realize I shouldn’t let it bother me when assholes behave like assholes.
Years ago, my aunt said something REALLY hurtful to me on Facebook. I was at work, and had to leave my office and call my ex to cry about it in the parking lot. (I rarely cry. It’s one of many unhealthy points of pride. But she’d hit a nerve.)
And my ex said, “I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
“Because she’s horrible. Who would say that?”
“Well…an asshole would say that. You think she’s a dick, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Do you value her opinion? Do you want your life to be like hers?”
“No. She’s awful.”
“So why are you upset about what an awful person thinks? She’s an asshole. Why are you letting an asshole make you cry?”
“…Well, shit…You are absolutely…goddamn right…”
I was fine for years after that, but recently had a wonky emotional time in which I was letting her get to me again. It helps so much to keep that conversation in mind — how obvious it seemed, what a glorious turning point it was for me to finally see it, and also to know other people see it, too. It helped a LOT this past Christmas.
You go ahead and make your snide little comments, dearie. I don’t know what made you such a miserable jag, what made you so unhappy with your life, but you’re damn sure in no position to judge mine.
Namaste. Bitch.
Pfft. I’m not crying at work. YOU’RE crying at work… Shut up.
(Fucking hormones.)
Melissa Benoist on Why Supergirl is a Feminist.
I had a shit day at work and had finally calmed down enough to debate numbing my pain at the burrito restaurant, and actually thought to myself, “I highly doubt you’d be the first tear-streaked woman to walk in there and demand a hillock of cheesy goodness.”
Nothing major, I’m just terrible at my job and at everything and I should probably just go sell shrimp out of a van except I’m allergic to shrimp and am bad at math as well, so I’d always give people the wrong change and then my van would get shut down.
You know…typical Thursday.
Even if I know it’s not accurate, claiming “PMS” is easier than admitting I’m just a crazy person who’s been on the verge of tears all day for no goddamn apparent reason.
The fuck?!
Engage Happiness Schematic #173: macaroni and cheese and visiting friend’s kids!
I’ve learned that I can get incredible tension relief and clarity from both sex and an Ugly Cry. (Ideally not at the same time.)
If I discover the same is true for exercise, I’m gonna be, like, the hottest shaman ever by the end of this year.
Smug Singleton 