Triggered

It doesn’t take much for me to want to throat punch someone. I know violence is not the best way to start a beautiful Sunday morning but it occurred to me when I woke up angry today just how many triggers i still have about what other people say.

Last night it was: “How about those airbrushed photos of you?”

Now, this person was not trying to hurt me but BLAM right to the heart went that comment referring to a photo shoot i did where my friend the photographer airbrushed me within an inch of my life. If you follow me than you know I don’t exactly cover my wrinkles etc. These photos were quite blown out and while i wasn’t happy with them - i had a few other people depending on me posting them. Could this person have left the word airbrushed out of her statement - sure. Could I have laughed it off? Perhaps. But I’m not gonna lie - laughing it off is not my strong suit. I do not like to be made fun of.

I always say if you want to cut to the core of who you are look no further than your childhood. Mine was an unnurtured shit show where my mom made fun of basically everything i did or anything that was important to me. You want to be an actress? Ha! Cheerleader? Insane. Veterinarian? Come on now that’s just dumb. Nothing was sacred. Everything was silly. To this day, if I’m in the middle of telling a story and you interject something you think is hilarious - I will not find it funny. If it is at my expense - it’s trash. And that’s just how it is. That’s who I am.

People say insane shit to other people all the time. The art of letting it roll off your back is not one I’ve mastered. I’d rather more people keep their words in their head or at least measure them before they blurt them out.

Who I choose to mingle with these days is like a hideous competition show where if you say one wrong thing you die instantly. I kill you off faster than you can say I’m sorry. I don’t have time for people who don’t love me as much as i do. I measure how I choose to spend my time very carefully and if I’m not going to be my best self with you than there is no reason for me to be there. I remember asking a friend once to tell the group we were with how we met and she launched into the most hideous account of how i acted the first time we hung out for more than fifteen minutes. I was stunned. It was hearing how someone truly felt about me though they were trying to make it a joke. I didn’t find it funny. I also found it a total fucking lie.

All of this is hilarious to me because I love making fun of shit. I guess at 64 I finally need to learn how to take what i dish out or at least learn to cook with people who mock me in a way I know is filled with love not jealousy.

Okay bye now.