Saturday, November 27, 2004

This is why events un-nerve me.

I don't want this to be indicative of the past few days, which have been wonderful--spent eating turkey and wrapping gifts and losing at Stratego and Scrabble, but I need to put this down. I need to remember this and what it feels like so I can better insulate myself from sharp tongues and careless advice. Because this morning was bad. Really bad.

First of all: I am never going to see my current doctor again if I can help it. I do not need to be told what a horrible person I am and made to feel as if I am an embrassment to her version of feminism just because I happen to stay home and my husband supports me financially. I don't need to hear the sob story of how your sister got divorced and is now destitute. To be talked down to as if I had never read a goddamn book in my life. I don't need it, I don't need it, I don't need it--I don't need to fit into your mold. I especially don't need to hear all of this while you are poking and prodding in my nether reigons with your rubber gloves and cold surgical instruments.

Second of all: how fucking terrible is it to know someone is wrong but still be affected by their opinion? To cry so hard at the beach you almost throw up. To be so numb after you've gone somewhere where the people are supposed to HELP you and HEAL you. So wrong.

Third of all: after a horrible morning, you happen to run into someone outside of your local corporate department store that you hoped you'd never, ever have to meet. Especially not when your eyes are sore from crying so hard. Ex-girlfriend situations are always awkward.

Fourthly: I am lucky to have someone who will take me out for a good sushi lunch afterwards to make me feel better. Nothing better than raw salmon and tuna to mend what ails you.

I still can't help but feel a little piece of my self-esteem was chipped away today that I can't ever really get back.

It helped though: the lunch. The man who noticed I was staring with glee at his beautiful miniature Australian shepherd and told me I was free to pet the little dog. The Christmas parade that went by, with the white and black spotted horse, adorned with fake reindeer ears askew. The way you held my hand at the coffee shop and kissed me.

Music: the sounds of Uncle Tupelo wafting from downstairs

Comments:
Take a second or two and recall the Stamper clan's advice, "Never give a inch." Gramatically correct or not, it's sage speak. Don't ever let the pig fuckers, rat bastards or wannabe psychmobabbling advice columnists get you down. Ever.
 
Take a second or two and recall the Stamper clan's advice, "Never give a inch." Gramatically correct or not, it's sage speak. Don't ever let the pig fuckers, rat bastards or wannabe psychmobabbling advice columnists get you down. Ever.
 
I hate days like that. I haven't had any horrid doctors, but I have deffo had shit days at work, followed by crying over something dumb that my ex said or did that shouldn't even matter, followed by crying (quite publically) at work (where I'm sure they're sick of it), followed by coming home to an empty house and a dirty rabbit cage.

But you're right. For a moment or two it's good to dwell in the low and the shit and the pain. I can't even explain why, but it is. I'm thinking of you.
 
Miss. E -- thank you for the thought. I hadn't had a day that bad in months so it caught me off guard. I don't feel like such a freak about crying in public now that you've told me about your experience(s). Sometimes it's good to just let that shit go, y'know?
 
My God. Stratego. What a perfect perfect little game. My youth in a word.

I am sorry about everything else though.
 
John--you MUST email me some of your best Stratego tips and strategies. I haven't won the fucking game even once.
 
I sent an email to rhapsodyswirl. I hope you still use it :)
 
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