No... actually, I DON'T have to understand....

Something is on my mind today.... Society sucks ass....

I suppose I need to qualify that, however I just wanted to put it out... right there, for anyone to see and I don't care if you like it, I don't have to understand how someone could take that wrong.

I say that society sucks ass because as of late some things have really been wreaking havoc on my mind.  There are some statements that I know you have all heard, and probably even stated at some point in your life, maybe even this week, or possibly TODAY.

Nice guys finish last
You need to be the bigger person
sucker for punishment
Bad things happen to good people...
only the good die you.

I am angry today, I am angry that I am a nice guy.  I am sick to death of being the bigger person, I'm good, BRING IT ON!

These statements were obviously created so that the "good" could explain the shitty people in the world.  The people who will cry and wine for attention... the people who are passive aggressive, never showing their true colors and even when they do, somehow convincing people that they aren't shitty people...  If you are reading this and you are that person, you know that you are... and yet you walk around behaving like a victim.

Nice guys do finish last... why?  why do the cruel guys finish first? Is it because they are not afraid to take out the nice guys to get what they want... and we, as a society, allow this?  Why do we tell those who have been wronged and just want a second to stand up for themselves, to stop being trodden all over that they need to be "the bigger person"... because society says to let the bad guys go.... is it because their bad behavior  is so bad that society as a whole just wants the bad gone so urgently that we will sit quietly on the side and allow the "littler" person go and tread on another?    Is it really not "worth it" for the downtrodden to stand up for themselves?  to feel as though they are NOT victims?  Why should that person who has been held under the thumb of cruelty be the "bigger" person?  By these statements, we should expect that the shitty people in the world should be rewarded by a free and clear path to success while the "bigger" victims continue being victimized by keeping quiet about the cruelty of others.

Why is someone who loves with their heart, who opens up and is vulnerable a "sucker for punishment"?  Why should being a  loving person make you a sucker?  and what is it about society that we need to PUNISH people who love?  Why are good, loving, kind people looked down upon and people who don't feel deeply are revered?   

Why don't Bad things happen to Bad people?  Why do the good people pay for this? These statements anger me because they imply that this is JUST the way it is... yet we, society, determines how the world works... it doesn't just happen... Bad things happen to everyone, sometimes these bad things happen to INNOCENT people because other people are BAD and they need to hurt others.  Obviously natural disasters, famine, war happen to everyone... good and bad... That said, we all know when we state that bad things happen to good people it is to excuse something MAN MADE (or woman made... never let it be said I am sexist) that is happening to an innocent... a "bigger" person...

The bad things that we refer to that happen to these innocent people are usually things that can be prevented but for the cruelty of others.  A single mother working for a tyrant is "downsized" because she doesn't want to stay late... that's a bad thing happening to a good person... a disgruntled student lies and has a teacher investigated for illegal immoral behavior when they didn't like the grade they were given... again... bad things.. happening to a good person... a victim of social stigma is ostracized for his mental health problems, and left to live on the streets... good person... bad thing happening...  An abusive person derailing the healing of their victim... BAD person causing a BAD thing to happen to a good person.... Bad things don't JUST happen...

I am tired of being a good person... of understanding, of "getting it".  I am sick to death of being the bigger person and walking away while people systematically destroy MY character because I am a sucker for punishment.  I want to finish FIRST....not last... and  I fully intend to live to a ripe old age (I quit smoking didn't I?)

I am a good person and as of today, I am going to make it my mission in life to let the GOOD people know that they are good... because I am tired of watching good people cry silently while bad people are praised.  To all of you bad people... IT'S ON. 

Bullies

I have started this blog so many times, never actually finishing it because I didn't know exactly what I wanted to say.

No, that's not true, I have known what I wanted to say, but there are so many things it was hard to wrap my mind around it all and get it all down at one time, so this is my newest attempt.

The recent media coverage of Amanda Todd's suicide and video has gotten me thinking about what kind of world we live in.  I am pretty sure that everyone has been the victim of bullying at one point or another in their lives, and this has gotten me thinking about what kind of people are the greatest victims.  Which people are driven to committing suicide?  I know how hard it is to be the victim of  bullying, don't you?

When I was a teenager I was bullied.  I was bullied for everything from the color of my skin (no control) the condition of our home (not good) my brother's anger issues, my sister's popularity, my weight, my hair to who I would marry (funny that, I ended up marrying the guy, and having his kids... granted we separated, but they had it right when I was 13 didn't they *grin*)  I was beat up every day for a year for walking down the wrong street.  We were 3 of 7 black kids at our school, we lived on the wrong side of 12th street, in a word, you could pick on me about ANYTHING and have a reason in a peabody teenage mind.

I thought, with adulthood that the bullying would stop, that I was finally grown and I could hold my head up high.  I got married at 19, simply put, because I was sure that no one would ever ask me again.  You see, even my mother bullied me.  When I was 11 she told me that "girls like us" will never find love... I was ELEVEN YEARS OLD!  I carried this knowledge through to adulthood, believing that no one would love me because I was too fat.... In school, the teacher told me if I was like my sister to leave.  My sister's friends picked on me because I was still a virgin and didn't like boys (turns out I'm gay... go fig).  My brother beat me up frequently, my best friend would decide that I wasn't a friend she wanted to spend time with just because....

I look at these kids today and ache to tell them that everything goes away when you are an adult... but I don't want to lie to them.  it may, or may NOT get better when you are an adult.  It's all about how you deal with it, how you take it, and what you do with the bullying.  I know it seems trite to say it, but I can see where the thoughts of "no one can hurt you unless you let them" can be thrown around.  I am not going to bullshit you... that's BULLSHIT.... people can and will hurt you, it's almost in our nature.

I don't believe that people WANT to hurt you necessarily, however, they will and you have a choice of how you deal with that.  It's true, you can listen to every single negative thing that people say and take it and carry it and wear it on your face, in your heart, on your sleeve.  You can choose to hide yourself away and tell yourself the same things that these other people are telling you.  You can cry, you can rail against the evilness that is there.  You can do any manor of things... cut your hair in crazy do's, wear all black and mope around, listen to scream-o angry music or indie pop or depressing country songs.  You can hold on to every negative thing in the world, you can hold it all in tight and convince yourself that for some reason you ARE those things that people say.  You can wake up in the morning and remind yourself that living hurts, that everyone hates you, that you are not good enough.

Or you can wake up in the morning and know that I CARE about you!  You can know that your family loves you (even if it seems that they don't), your friends love you.... You WILL find love one day, and though it may hurt, you will enjoy it.  You can wake up and know that YOU ARE A SPECTACULAR HUMAN BEING and the world woudn't be the same without you.

I must admit... some who know me know that I have had kind of a rough go of things in my life, from child abuse to low self esteem, from bullies to abuse, I have had my run ins with suicidal thoughts, been so afraid to be alone that I got my daughter to sleep in my bed for the feeling that i was worth living for... I wrote a blog not that long ago where I wondered aloud if death would stop the pain.... I will tell you, I was CONVINCED that I would feel better.... and then i remembered something that not a lot of people know about me.

My sister committed suicide when I was 21.  My daughter is named after her and my niece bares a striking resemblance in both looks and personality.  One thing that parents I think, don't think to tell their children when they head out the door to school.  Many kids who are bullied end up growing up to be in abusive relationships, the cycle continues.  Tammy's life wasn't advertised on FB or on social media... this was, afterall, almost16 years ago.  Very few people knew of the death of my sister, who was the victim of bullying in school, at home, with family, they didn't know that the man who would abuse her was the one of the ONLY PEOPLE who told her that she was lovable... so when he started hurting her she thought that she had no choice.  She thought that she was ALL THOSE THINGS that all those people said about her.... that she wasn't WORTH MORE.  I remember how much it hurt to find out she had died.  I recall my whole family gathered around.  I see every year, almost 16 years later, how that date stops our family dead, and though it stopped her pain, it damn near destroyed my mother.

We need to stop... we need to put ourselves in other people's shoes and REALLY look at what we are doing to each other.  Put yourself in the shoes of someone who's child just committed suicide.  Don't have kids?  picture your sibling killing themself.... no sibling, you spouse, your partner, your friend.... Think about what it would be like to wake up in the morning and re-awaken withe the knowlege that you will never share a hug/kiss/arguement with that person.  Look at those who DO love you, see the look on their face and think about what it would be like to never see that face again.  Remember when you saw your mom cry, how hard that was for you.... imagine how hard she would cry without you, because you mean so much to her....

We need to remember... remember when people CARED about the rest of humanity.  Remember when people stood up for people who were being downtrodden.  We need to stop being silent.  We need to put our strengths, our supports, our friends in front of the people who are being taunted.  We need to show them that they ARE important.  Because if we don't ALL stop bullying, it will never stop.  By sitting silently, we are condoning the bullying, saying that we DON'T CARE if people are cruel, if people are being destroyed.... and I think THAT is a bigger problem than the bullies themselves.

So, how about today, today we remember that we can be a human shield.... we can walk up to someone and save them and be a hero for a day.  We can take someone "different" under our wings and give them what MAY be their last hope.  You never know if that kid you ignored when he got that wedgie will be at school tomorrow, so lets make sure he is!  Let's make sure that if our friend is being abused that we take a minute to show them more than pain, because it TRULY makes all the difference in the world.

The summer I turned 13

I can’t remember what I did the summer I was 13.  I don’t really remember much about it.  I learned about drugs and lying to my mother, I learned that I really didn’t like to kiss boys.    One day I was at the local public pool and my sister was outside of the pool fence.  I was in the pool, a fat, unattractive girl, heavy already, already the brunt of many cruel jokes.  My sister was with her group of friends… the cool kids.  The cool kids teased me too, but not as much as everyone else, they didn’t tease me because of respect.  Not respect for me, but for my older sister who was as much of a “rocker” as they were, the only difference between us, she smoked and was thin, she had a boyfriend and had smoked pot.  

As I played in the pool, the kids around me were all yelling, calling me a whale and making rude fart noises whenever I walked by.  God, I really loved to go to the pool, the feeling of being weightless was such joy for me…..God I really hated going to that pool, the feeling of being stared at, called names, having derogatory terms thrown at me as though I was just a wall that they could graffiti anything that they wanted on it and it would make no difference.

I heard Dena before I saw her; she was yelling, cursing and laughing.  Once she saw that she had my attention she called me over to the fence where she waited for me, surrounded by her “gang” of friends.  I suppose, looking back on it, that she was trying to be cool by corrupting someone younger than she.  I arrived at the fence as Dena lit a cigarette, it was Export A blue I think….   She asked me if I wanted a drag of her smoke and trying to be cook, I said yes.  I took a puff off the cigarette and lit it out right away, not inhaling at all but still thinking that I had the look of someone cool.  Dena’s friends all burst out laughing at my pitiful attempt at smoking, yelling and jeering, saying that I was a “goody goody” because I couldn’t smoke.  “You get the same effect by sticking your head in a fireplace,” they yelled.  Determined, I tried again.   This time I succeeded in inhaling the smoke into my lungs.  The burning in my lungs was the only thing I was conscious of; I need so badly, to get a drink of water.  The tightness in my chest was scary, so I did the first thing that came to mind, I jumped into the pool….. Definitely not one of the smartest things I have ever done, I must admit, but I did it anyway.  I was in the deep end of the pool, gasping for breath, breathing only water deep into my lungs which made me cough more.  I couldn’t breathe, I was panicking, I felt like I was going to die and couldn’t figure out which way was up.  

Being a heavy girl, I float; luckily it doesn’t take long so I floated to the surface where I managed to breathe in great gulps of air, coughing between each inhalation.  My head started to hurt, the pounding of my heartbeat reverberated through my head as with having the music too high right next to my ears.  The life guards, not having seen what had transpired beforehand, jumped into the pool to rescue me.  I felt so powerful and so protected.  The smoking was stupid, it hurt and I should have learned my lesson, I didn’t but that is a storey for another time.

The summer before grade eight, I learned the lengths I would go to please someone else, to get their approval.  I went to these lengths for many years, pleasing others were such a priority.  That summer was full of firsts for me.  The first time I kissed a boy, smoked a cigarette, smoked a joint and drank alcohol.  My 13^th summer, I learned to lie to my mother when I stayed out past curfew, where to hide when one of my sisters friends spotted my mother and who was my friend and who wasn’t.  I spent the summer trying to fit into a group of peers who frightened me, hoping that when I entered high school I would no longer carry the burden of being different.  I went to camp in August of that year.  It was the end of my innocence and the beginning of a spiral into self-punishment, hatred and conspiracy.  That year, we went to Alice Lake and I finally fit it.  I fit in with the cool kids!  They asked me to sit on the beach and smoke cigarettes and pot, drink with the guys and keep watch while they had sex.

That summer I got a bug stuck in my hair for 3 hours and no one could find it.  It walked, creeping, tickling, and teasing my conscious mind back and forth across my head like a thought that doesn’t quite form…. Niggling, you know it is there, just not what it is….  At camp that year I hung out with the man I would eventually marry, at far too young an age, for all too many wrong reasons, who would father my children and who struggled as hard to fit in as I did. 

We signed each other’s shirts, went midnight swimming against camp rules and sang rock songs at the top of our lungs… 

The year I turned 13 was the first and last year that I was cool and it was a mind blowing year!

I hate you facebook

So... I have decided that I can't stand FACEBOOK... I know, everyone says that all the time, but I am TOTALLY serious.

I hate that I use it... I hate that I have connections, I hate that it is great for keeping in touch, or feeling like I exist.  I hate that I know people on it and I hate that I don't.  I hate that it feels like a friend and yet an enemy... I hate that facebook welcomes me to post, to talk, to chat, to invite people who don't say hello to me in every day life to parties that they probably ahve no interest in attending... I hate that when I am feeling good I brag on facebook and when I feel down I post cryptic messages hoping for a notice from someone to say that I am real.

I hate the phone, and the internet... though I use both so much.  I hate that I can't process my feelings or figure anything out without the help of Google and Facebook, Twitter and myspace... basically I hate technology.

I hate that I want to go back to simpler times when though the world was behind, if you were feeling down, you sought out a friend who you saw often and sat down with them and cried, or you sent out those little paper things... ya know... invitations to things... with RSVP cards and an extra envelope... I hate that I want those days back...

I hate that once I put something out there, even if only for a second, just for a feeling that I matter but it is there, it is out, it is open for scrutiny or pity, empathy or sympathy, judgment or criticism....that it can't be taken back.

I hate that I feel so out of touch, so incapable of processing life in my head.... people used to do that... use their minds, not ask the 300 "friends" whom they don't talk to and who don't even know their cats names...  I hate this need I have for approval... for confirmation...

and I hate that I can't take that hate back...