Sticks and Stones
Whenever I’m reviewing my list of topics to choose which one I might want to talk about in my next blog posting, I’m reminded again that invariably all of the posts all revolve around my weight loss journey (duh, of course) but also in many cases, they touch back upon previous posts/topics. As will this one.
Going back a few posts to the subject of bullying and Sean Cameron Michael’s PSA/Interview, and even further back to my story about the guy who yelled out to me that I looked like I needed a donut, I don’t think that if I were to live to be 100 I will ever – EVER – understand the cruelty of others. Why do they do it? What perverse pleasure do they get from doing it? Do they truly believe they are better or more superior to the other person, or do they do it to feel better or more superior to someone else? Is their ego so large that they feel justified in belittling and bullying others?
I just don’t get it.
But even if wasn’t someone who has ever been treated in this way I still wouldn’t understand. How big is the seeping black abysmal hole in someone’s heart and soul that makes them behave this way?
I just don’t get it.
So as I sit here, I am crying. I’ll explain why in a moment but as you might guess, that Emotional Yo-Yo that I just touched upon in yesterday’s post is making me quite queasy today. Earlier I was okay, then got some crappy news about one of my crowns cracking a piece off and I was back down again. Then, a little while ago I left work, well…that is the reason for tonight’s post.
And as I said in yesterday’s post, while I am trying very hard to be positive and not let myself falter, I have to tell you – it’s fucking hard. It’s hard when no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to be a good person, to have a good heart, some people only see the ugly in you.
It certainly has occurred to me that it might be their ugliness that is reflecting back at them but they think it’s me. But that doesn’t change how incidents like this make me feel.
I’m trying to hard to not be that woman who looks in the mirror and says that I’m ugly. It’s not even really about my looks, per se. To me. I may never look in the mirror and think “I’m beautiful” (though Dr. S seems to think otherwise), but given where I was not too long ago, I have worked very hard to not think such negative things when I do look in the mirror. I want and need to be able to look at my reflection and be able to say that I’m okay, I’m proud of myself, I’m a survivor and I doing just fine. And as I’ve said before – to feel worthy. To feel loved. Needed. Wanted. Whatever.
And I know I shouldn’t care what other people think, and I’m not sure why I do sometimes. Especially when it’s clear that they hold no respect for me or value me in any way than as fodder – as a punching bag to use to appease some sense of sickening blackness in their own hearts. And their souls.
But it’s hard when a stranger glances at you for all of 5 seconds – in a darkened parking lot in the pouring rain – and feels that it is not only his God-given right, but his obligation, to point out to me how disgustingly fat and ugly I am. To say the words, “Can you possibly be any fatter, you ugly fucking pig?” To look right at me, see my anguish and not care. Not at all. To sneer at me with disgust, shake his head and ask his buddy who is laughing how do I even get up in the morning and why don’t I just kill myself and save everyone the trouble of supporting my pathetic life.
And so I cry. I cry harder than I have in a very long time.
And I’m not as tough as I pretend to be. In fact, remember that Academy Award winning performance I mentioned – my toughness is pretty much a fabulous act. I am, in fact, the opposite. I’m not tough. I don’t stand up for myself, really. I try to act tough and sometimes say the words, but inside I’m shaking because I don’t always feel I am strong enough to win the battle. So I pretend. And I talk the big talk.
So when things like this happen, my resolve waivers and while I’m in a far better place now to deal with it and move on than I was six months or a year ago, it still hurts. It hurts a lot. It takes everything in me to not fall back into that personal reflection and not say I’m ugly. All because of two assholes that I’ve never met before who felt it was okay to behave that way. Who must have assumed I was blind and stupid and who possibly couldn’t have any idea of my size or what I look like.
I want to be able to say “fuck them” and move on. And I’m sure later I will feel better and will move on. But how dare they! How dare they make me – even for the briefest of moments – feel small and insignificant. Like I don’t matter. Like I’m a waste of oxygen. And I know I’m not. I know it! I know I have people who love me. People who care for me. People who look to me for guidance, help and support. I know this. But for that 2 minutes in my life – I forgot. And I felt momentarily awash with Why am I here?
And so I cry. Still.
I tell you this not for sympathy or anything like that but as a glimpse of what happens – what can happen – in the briefest moment that anyone can say something hurtful and mean – and downright disgustingly – to another person.
And they don’t even care.
Sending blessings, love and great peace to everyone.