*NOTE: super spotty service, drafts/publishing issues. Will find better service and double check everything**
Where I’m from rain is a good thing. Now, Sarah the Bitch with an H, your comment on For the Hell Friday:What the Hell Am I Doing came at just the right moment. We’ll get to that in a minute though.
For those of you just joining, this isn’t Sarah the Bitch with the H’s first appearance. She commented on the post that changed everything, Time to Live Up to the Name. I was sad. I was hurt. My whole world had been torn apart.
Sarah the Bitch with an H commented I was mentally ill and needed help. Since then she has become a measurement for various things, usually in marking something I don’t care for much.
Who could she be? We were all aghast. Saras I know were quick to point out that their names don’t have an H. Sarah’s with an H needed me to know that it wasn’t them. Many, and I mean many, guessed a particular SWF I used to know. So many people guessed that particular person that I almost felt sorry for her. For that many people to assume you’re that terrible.
What’s important about this is that during my life upheaval, I wasn’t pushing the blog. Only people who knew me knew where to find it. That means, Sarah the Bitch with an H, is probably someone I know. Does it make this bitch insightful on all things Muffy or is she just Hector the Projector?
The first encounter, I could have been better. Still, not too bad off the cuff. Even made my typo witty! It was/should also be pointed out that the very next post was titled ”To Put It In Perspective, I Need Your Help” and it was absolutely published before her comment was made. I guess my troll just isn’t very dedicated. Don’t worry dear readers, I am dedicated to my troll! Let’s explore Sarah the Bitch with an H’s latest comment. Then! Then! I’ll delve into my point and how this is perfect timing!
1. I am not running. I hate running. Noah from Moore On Runners tried and tried. Nope. Not happening. Fun fact, I did run once! Exactly one time. I ran Cincinnati Flying Pig Half Marathon IN A FLASH FLOOD. If you ever go to Cinci and you see all those bridges and hills, I ran across all of them! Double fun fact, if you only run one race your current time is always your own personal best!
Now if I were out here running, I think we can all agree that I am out here running towards something, not from it. What a closed minded perspective.
2. Working hard always gets you what you want. That’s a nice sentiment. Just ignore nepotism, that it’s all in who you know, all those people who bust their tail and still never get there. Of course, The Stones telling you that you don’t always get what you want, you get what you need.
I do work. I work really hard. There was a lot of hard work and sacrifice to get here. Even out here, I’m still working hard. Even harder. I have my “day job” and my own personal hustle. Travel blogger, freelance writer; these things take work. Did I mention I want to write a book one day?!
3. Disney World. Walt Disney World is in Florida. Walt Disney Land is in California. Thanks for the read, but if we are keeping count it wasn’t one of my first posts (they are called “posts” by the way or “blog posts.” The whole website is the blog. It would be exhausting and counterproductive to make a new blog every time I wrote). Depending on which Travel Tip Tuesday you’re referring to it was either post #66 or #64.
4. I own my car, just FYI. It is in storage, but I own that baby! I’ve actually got very little debt. That’s one of the sacrifices I mentioned. Along the way, I sacrificed things and spending to avoid debt. Sometimes it was hard work! (see #3)
5. No, you don’t know my family. I go through various blocking routines every other month so I’m not the person to get you in touch. But who the fuck do you think you are? “Willing to accept me?” Yeah, they have. They do. It is me that chooses not to be involved with them. I may talk about them, I restrain from sharing the screenshots of word nausea. This is my freethinking narrative, I get to talk all about what I want without having to prove my feelings. That’s the beauty of a personal blog!
6. It’s “yourself,” one word.
7. You don’t need a comma before “and.” That’s my opinion though. I’m assuming you were weren’t using it as a coordinating conjunction. It seems like you were stating two descriptions. Who knows though. I don’t know you, just taking a guess based on your writing and typos. Happens to the best of us, that’s why I have an editor for anything outside on the blog!
8. Words written don’t make it true. Nope. But it is my story and I can use whatever words I want!
9. Good luck to me? Is that, hope upon hope, this is the end of you? So long, farewell…
Let’s head for the point, shall we? I had said that this was perfect timing.
Not only did the alert of your comment come right as I finished my work for the day (yep, work! See #3), it also showed up after some self reflection. That’s not that big of a deal, solo travel comes with a lot of self reflection.
Do you know my most hated phrase? “It is what it is.” I hate it and I truly mean hate. We have freewill! Nothing is ever just what it is. There are always options, those options just may not be the ones you want to take.
Just recently, I had a situation that I really needed to get out of that I have put myself in. What no one ever seems to consider is that maybe your “situation” is a result of leaving another situation. Frankly, you are always going to be in some sort of situation or another. I digress.
My arrangements started to form a cage, a pretty cage; a cage nonetheless. Tracker apps, exercise mandates, vitamin regimes, unspoken curfews, and no access to the keys or codes to let me out of the gate. All for my well being? Sure, only it should be of my choosing not by that of a mother hen turned hawk.
As the bars of my cage began to form, my concerns formed right alongside them.
This is where things went sideways.
Mother Hawk told me I was dishonest and deceitful. “Ask anyone who knows you. Everyone knows you bring drama. Everyone,” she says. Yes, it was that dramatic and traumatic, so much so that I remembered it verbatim until I could write it down. Now I have put myself in this situation and I was sure as hell going to get myself out.
Yes, Sarah the Bitch with an H, it is only my side of the story and not even all of it. Let’s just say I know I wasn’t the crazy in the situation because I was not the one peeing in a cup while hiding in the bathroom. For now, my ruling will have to stand.
Words were said, insults lobbed out. I go out of my way to be a better person; to live my life to avoid that type of adjectives. Long ago, someone called me horrible things such as those, hurling off insult after insult.
Insults are like gambling. You have to quit while you are ahead. Except the tormentor enjoys the rush too much and goes all in. They’ll go for a real zinger as their grand finale. Only the insult is too big and you’ll see the cracks in the lie. Long ago, it was that if my own father didn’t love me how could anyone else. Not really a loss for me, but obvious flaws. In the sideways situation, it was that everyone who knows me, you could ask anyone…well, that loses it’s power when your sample size is only 3; all your children by birth or marriage.
Unfounded or not, insults still leave a mark. Every insult gets my attention as I worry over if I’ve been good enough. I tally my flaws, list each time I could have been a better friend, a better human. I like to think I’m quick to own my mistakes and genuine with my apologies. When you’re told you’re no good, you get real good at evaluating. I’ve had tons of therapy where I picked that up. For every death, divorce, move, transfer, or change my family could think of I got sent to the shrink. Sometimes short stints, sometimes long ones.
Every therapist I’ve ever seen has told me two things. First, I should be way more fucked up. God love Dr. Lamb for actually saying “fucked.” I am way more balanced than I should be (go me for adaptation). Second, their original concern was that I created drama my life. After many a sessions, they all tell me they don’t think it is me. Somehow it just finds me. True story.
These situations or times that have gone sideways seem to happen to me more than most. It is something I have given a great deal of thought about and it is me.
You see, I’ve been living by the same instructions I was told on my first day of school, “go make friends!” I just never stopped. How many friends do you have? Maybe a hundred? Maybe two? I have thousands, adding more every day. Not a single one of them do I not think I could call upon right this moment for a chat. Don’t believe me? Look at this adventure. Look at the map with all the names.
My life is bigger than most, my adventure grander. It has always been this way. When it comes to the equation of life mine has more drama because the sample size is larger. But so is the happiness, the moments, the memories, the experiences, the people. I’ve opened myself up to all of these situations, good or bad, and I get myself out when need be.
It all becomes part of my story. My story. Fortunately, I’m a storyteller. All of it folds in. Sad, happy, good, bad, great, ridiculous, funny, outrageous – all of it. Every person. Every place. Every experience. All of it.
This is my story for me to tell. That’s what I am putting into the universe. Sarah, the Bitch with an H, stop and listen to my tales or go on along your way. As before, if you’re someone I know I’d like to not know you anymore. Don’t you worry, I’ve asked the universe to let me know.
On the topic of not knowing anymore: I have no delusions that Mother Hawk and her flock will see this, just as I have no delusions that our friendships would have survived. Families first, little birds. I’ve disrupted your nest, for that we should steer clear of each other. The lose of your 3 friendships saddens me, one of them more than the rest. One of your Mother Hawk touted you as echoing her sentiments. If that is only half of the story then at the very least you didn’t disuade them. I am neither dishonest nor deceitful, I won’t be called them nor will have people in my life who think me capable. I tell you this with a pure heart, I hope you are never shattered to your core, that there never comes a time where you need to take personal stock. If ever a time does come, remember that moment when you ask yourself if there was ever a time I could have been a better friend.
All 3 little birds, I forgive your silence or your words. From here now, let’s have only silence from your nest.
Now out of my pretty cage, I have no desire to return either in person or in words. Your feathers will conceal you as long as you wish. There is no more of your story I need to tell. After all, it is only fair I only tell my story and not yours.