...That is not what I do. I am not a soft sunset, kissing the mountain peaks. I am not a guiding star high atop the clouds, lighting the way. I am not delicate, desert flower. I am not an easy person to love.
I am hard. Gritty. Sandpaper. If you get too close, I scratch, scrape, bite, draw blood. I am not one who makes a good life partner. I will never be the woman people go to for comfort; I'm not built for it. It isn't what I was given, isn't how I was raised.
In daydreams, I see myself as someone who has a lot to offer; someone who pinches the cheeks of adorable children while dispensing lemon cookies. Someone a young girl, young man, budding professional, or aspiring writer might come to for advice. Alas, I am not that person.
It was brought to my attention very recently (and it came as no surprise) that I am a "judgmental asshole." And "I've always been this way and I am this way with everyone." Well, a judgmental asshole doesn't sound like they have much to offer except unwarranted opinions, hardened glances, scowls, and unsolicited advice—not someone folks flock to. I don't think that’s an unfair criticism, and before I get into why this might be and make it sound as though I have a right to come off this way, let me state this is not shocking news.
I am my own worst critic, hate myself some days, and when I look in the mirror I see the faded version of someone who used to be softer, hopeful, amenable, pretty. And even now, I can soften, but it seems only professionally. My soft spot is for the Deaf, other than that, sorry, I got nothin'; I’m as good as a hardened criminal with no remorse. Is it the world at large that hardens an individual? Substance use? Familial trauma? Inhereited trauma? Religious trauma? Is it circumstantial? Or is it simply...I was born this way—the same way LGBTQIA+ are born the way they are?
It didn't start with Him or any of the Hims before him. It likely won't end with Him either. A few months back a friend confronted me about how my response to a question she'd asked made her shrink back and feel unsafe in my presence. My reply was, “This is how I am. Take it or leave it.” Our friendship hasn't felt the same since, and do I blame her? No. Is it me? Probably. Some who know me, and choose to see me in whatever light they wish, would defend me. My current He might also defend me (when the situation warrants it) because at any particular moment, conveniently, His judgmental asshole would have permission to surface without ridicule.
So, is it that my judgmental asshole is only welcome when it's used in conjunction with yours, or that you just don't want my asshole noticing your flaws? Either way, I'm in a catch-22 and it isn't easy trying to navigate that discomfort in a 100 sq ft. hallway on wheels—when you've nowhere to go but outside for a stroll in a cramped RV park, feigning pleasantries with each passerby. Let me tell you, when you’re forced to see His and your own flaws up close, there is no avoiding them. Add in the aimlessness of your life and how you're just leaving things up to chance—Winnie the Pooh-ing your way through, waiting for that honey pot to fall from the sky—there are major stressors afoot. And if that honey pot just happened to fall? Well, wouldn't I feel like a sweet, delicate flower or inviting puffy, purple cloud then? Softened. Tranquil. But I'm not. I'm in a hardened shell with my home on my back, trying to make sense of myself and new surroundings every few days and/or weeks.
What might be worse is that I've uprooted my life, looking for some major positive change in myself, in my marriage, in all the ways that I do things only to find that I'm no different on the road than I was in my previous home. Is it His fault? Mine? Is that why I pass judgment? Because I'm too sick to even look at myself? When all I want is to be as inviting as a New Mexican skyline, I'm afraid I will always be an untouchable cactus.
Wherever you go, there you fuckin' are. And sometimes, sweetheart, you're just plain ugly.
I am not looking for anything (compliments, reassurance...etc) with this post. Life is very volatile no matter who or where you are, and it is okay to acknowledge and accept that with brutal honesty. Expecting constant positivity is just irresponsible human-ing.
That’s a great fucking post. No apologies needed. And gorgeous writing out the ugly.