Ah, from the mouth of babes. Sweet, innocent, beautiful children. Until they open their yap and out flies a four letter word or something horribly embarrassing or inappropriate. You know the feeling. You often say a four letter word after said incident occurs. From where do they obtain such abilities to make people gasp or blush? Children are sponges. They soak every little detail up and mimic the people they are around on a regular basis. Remember that scene in "Meet the Fockers" when little Jack's first word comes out as "asshole"? That's fairly accurate. Then you kick yourself in the ass because you know where he heard it. Oops! Time to filter swear words.
Even younger children without a full vocabulary surprise people. My two year old, for example. She's very bright and smart, and she watches me like a hawk. It's not until she dropped the F-bomb that I realized I should try to watch my language around her. She did say it in context though, so that's good. It's easier said than done to develop a filter. Those words just pop out. I've been coming up with alternative swears. Like the other day when I tripped over a can of tuna juice I'd left on the floor for the cats, spraying the kitchen floor with the liquid. Almost about to swear, I screamed "William H. Macy!!!!" as I tried to not slip and slide. That just made her laugh. Or when I was cleaning and the vacuum cord pulled out of the outlet while I was in a back bedroom, I yelled "Flinging flapjacks!!" Where'd that come from? I still like to pull out the old classic "mother trucker!" I've noticed Lilli has taken to "what the heck?" or "oh man!" when something goes wrong. The swear words still fly out sometimes.
And what about those kids that suddenly decide to blurt something very personal out in public? Gone are the unnoticed anonymous toots at the store. You will certainly be called out when your little sweetpea announces: Mama tooted!!! Ewwwwww! OH GOD. Who heard that? You walk to a different aisle pretty quickly after that. In one case, I was at the store, looking for Au Jus mix for my French Dip sandwiches. I kept mumbling to myself in the spice aisle, "Hmmm where is the Au Jus? Au Jus...where is the Au Jus?" It was at that moment my darling blue eyed, blond haired, fair skinned child said in a very loud voice, "A JEW, A JEW!!!" within an earshot of a few passerby. Oh dear. Did my Aryan child just blurt out an anti semantic comment? Holy Crap! That one was not my doing, however; I can understand how she could pronounce it that way. Still nonetheless embarrassing. I made my own Au Jus. Children don't care about race until they are exposed to racism. I had a friend once, who as a child, was not exposed to many black people in the suburbs. While her father, a pastor, told her that the man was coming to visit them, he explained that he's the same as you and I, just a different color. Simple explanation, right? To which she promptly observed upon his arrival, and told him he looked like a Tootsie Roll. Glad she was young and innocent, and he had a good sense of humor!
I am also fascinated at the rate children obtain and remember things. Yet, they always seem to come back to bite you in the ass. My days are crammed with fighting with a 2 year old. Ridiculous to have an almost 30 year old fussing with a 2 year old, right? Not really. She knows how to push my buttons, and she's getting pretty damn good at it. In one of our most recent spats, she actually made me laugh because she was so mad at me. She had a baggie of pretzels to snack on while we ventured home from daycare. At a stoplight, I noticed she was about to intentionally dump the bag out all over my backseat. Scandalous! So, I took the baggie away. This resulted in a meltdown. The last 15 minutes of the car ride home went something like this (typing like a toddler speaks): Mama!! Mama!! MY pritsels. I VANT 'em. I VANT 'em. Give'em back. MINE. Bad boy! Bad boy! NO NO Mama! Go avay!!! Go avay!! Her extensive rant reminded me of Charlie Sheen. It made me laugh. She was so angry, she was crying and her little, sweet face was so red that her hair was glowing. Oh my!! Why she called me a "bad boy" is beyond me, but she got her point across. She finally calmed down when we got home. "I sasu, mama. I sasu. I wuv you." And it ended with a hug. Love.
Do you have any good/funny/embarrassing stories of things your child has done/said to make you blush? Share them!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Bad Boys...whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
Bad boys. Bad, bad boys. Not cops. A woman's fantasy and a man's nemesis. And usually, they don't come to women; women are lured to them like a moth to a flame. Do you ever wonder why? (And from this point on, they are MEN. Boys just sounds like you're a cougar and/or a pedophile).
Badass Billy is sitting at the bar. Tatted up wearing raggedy, leather motorcycle gear. He has a bandanna on his head and a toothpick in his mouth. He has unruly hair and a goatee. He's tapping a pack of Lucky's on the bar, and nursing a pint of Bud. It's also what he's not doing that gets the ladies attention. He's giving off the douchebag, asshole vibe. You strategically place yourself next to him at the bar and order your drink. The allure is uncertain, but strong. You order a fruity, girly drink. He looks at you and simply gives the universal head nod. You smile. You take a drink. Then, you tell him you like his tattoos. He gruffly tells you the meaning of each and where he got them. "See this one here? Ya, I got that when I was at a biker rally in Amarillo. It's a picture of Jenna Jameson on a Harley." You are shocked, and know you should walk away, but just can't. You inquire further. You ask what he does for a living. He grumbles and clears his throat. "Construction. I get to work outside and get fresh air all day. Sure beats life in prison." PRISON!? Now you HAVE to know. You ask him why he was in prison. He replies, "Eh, some jackass was trying to steal my Harley, so I broke his leg. No big thing. I only did 16 months." WHAT?! Yet, you still can't walk away. You are fascinated and addicted. Your head is saying NO, NO, NO, but your inner beast is saying HELL YEAH! Why? Because there is something sexy about a man that has a "past". You can't get enough. He is not the one taking the lead, you are. You ask for his number. He gives it to you, written on a bar napkin. You do realize YOU just did all of the work and laid the foundation for this, right? You hear your mother's voice in your head: Kid, this is NOT a smart choice. Yet, you don't care. He has tattoos. He's been in prison. He looks like Thor! Take me now!
Douchebag Jason is sitting on the couch in the VP section of a trendy nightclub. He's wearing skinny jeans, a button up, long sleeved white shirt, and shiny shoes that are probably from Kenneth Cole. His hair is spiky, with more gel than any human should ever use, with highlights. He's pretty. He smacks the ass of the waitress after she takes his drink order. You mutter "what the hell?! That asshole!" Then, you lock eyes across the room. He smiles ever so charmingly and gives you, yet again, the universal head nod. You weave through the crowded room to get a little closer. He decides now is a good time to stand up and move to the dance floor. He brushes by you and clearly goes for a feel. You want to slap him, yet you can't. He smells like expensive cologne, mint gum, and laundry detergent. He brushes by you again. This time, offering you a drink. Your head is saying, "hey, he's a man whore!" but your inner beast is saying, "if he's paying for the drink I'll take it. And wow, look at those eyes!" Yes, he's got you now. He pays for your drink of choice then insists you dance with him. Immediately, you see other women gasping. He's clearly worked his magic on them too. Yet, once again, you can't resist. What is the allure?
I've been sucked into these traps. I'd like to think of myself as intelligent, but somehow, my choice in men has been somewhat questionable. An abusive asshole, a clueless mama's boy, a portly pirate, and a stalker with questionable motives. It is true. Nice guys finish last. Now that I'm older and wiser, I do my very best to see through the attraction to bad guys. I'm slowly learning what a REAL man is. But, it is hard to resist the bad men. While I have enough common sense to avoid the man that does drugs, has stabbed a person, and has stolen a car, there is something about a man with a little hair on his chest (figuratively, not literally. I'm not really a body hair fan. I won't elaborate) and a history of being a badass. Now, if I could only get a nice guy with bad guy tendencies, but has self control and morals, I'll be set.
Badass Billy is sitting at the bar. Tatted up wearing raggedy, leather motorcycle gear. He has a bandanna on his head and a toothpick in his mouth. He has unruly hair and a goatee. He's tapping a pack of Lucky's on the bar, and nursing a pint of Bud. It's also what he's not doing that gets the ladies attention. He's giving off the douchebag, asshole vibe. You strategically place yourself next to him at the bar and order your drink. The allure is uncertain, but strong. You order a fruity, girly drink. He looks at you and simply gives the universal head nod. You smile. You take a drink. Then, you tell him you like his tattoos. He gruffly tells you the meaning of each and where he got them. "See this one here? Ya, I got that when I was at a biker rally in Amarillo. It's a picture of Jenna Jameson on a Harley." You are shocked, and know you should walk away, but just can't. You inquire further. You ask what he does for a living. He grumbles and clears his throat. "Construction. I get to work outside and get fresh air all day. Sure beats life in prison." PRISON!? Now you HAVE to know. You ask him why he was in prison. He replies, "Eh, some jackass was trying to steal my Harley, so I broke his leg. No big thing. I only did 16 months." WHAT?! Yet, you still can't walk away. You are fascinated and addicted. Your head is saying NO, NO, NO, but your inner beast is saying HELL YEAH! Why? Because there is something sexy about a man that has a "past". You can't get enough. He is not the one taking the lead, you are. You ask for his number. He gives it to you, written on a bar napkin. You do realize YOU just did all of the work and laid the foundation for this, right? You hear your mother's voice in your head: Kid, this is NOT a smart choice. Yet, you don't care. He has tattoos. He's been in prison. He looks like Thor! Take me now!
Douchebag Jason is sitting on the couch in the VP section of a trendy nightclub. He's wearing skinny jeans, a button up, long sleeved white shirt, and shiny shoes that are probably from Kenneth Cole. His hair is spiky, with more gel than any human should ever use, with highlights. He's pretty. He smacks the ass of the waitress after she takes his drink order. You mutter "what the hell?! That asshole!" Then, you lock eyes across the room. He smiles ever so charmingly and gives you, yet again, the universal head nod. You weave through the crowded room to get a little closer. He decides now is a good time to stand up and move to the dance floor. He brushes by you and clearly goes for a feel. You want to slap him, yet you can't. He smells like expensive cologne, mint gum, and laundry detergent. He brushes by you again. This time, offering you a drink. Your head is saying, "hey, he's a man whore!" but your inner beast is saying, "if he's paying for the drink I'll take it. And wow, look at those eyes!" Yes, he's got you now. He pays for your drink of choice then insists you dance with him. Immediately, you see other women gasping. He's clearly worked his magic on them too. Yet, once again, you can't resist. What is the allure?
I've been sucked into these traps. I'd like to think of myself as intelligent, but somehow, my choice in men has been somewhat questionable. An abusive asshole, a clueless mama's boy, a portly pirate, and a stalker with questionable motives. It is true. Nice guys finish last. Now that I'm older and wiser, I do my very best to see through the attraction to bad guys. I'm slowly learning what a REAL man is. But, it is hard to resist the bad men. While I have enough common sense to avoid the man that does drugs, has stabbed a person, and has stolen a car, there is something about a man with a little hair on his chest (figuratively, not literally. I'm not really a body hair fan. I won't elaborate) and a history of being a badass. Now, if I could only get a nice guy with bad guy tendencies, but has self control and morals, I'll be set.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Asshole 101
Every one has their day. A day where they may be considered an asshole, for whatever reason. You cut off that guy in traffic on purpose (even though it is an asshole move, it's usually better received if you give a little wave afterwards), you take the last piece of candy in the bowl, you steal that parking spot you know that little old lady was waiting for, you pay with cash vs. a card (you've seen it happen, just like that Visa commercial. Things are going at a perfect pace, then some a-hole whips out CASH. I did it the other day. Oops!), you walk a little faster at the grocery store to get in line so you don't get stuck behind the soccer mom with 2 carts worth of food, or you just didn't feel like tipping 20% for mediocre service at Applebees. It happens. The difference between a true asshole, and an occasional one, is the pseudo asshole feels bad afterwards, and knows it was a dick thing for them to do. AKA guilt.
Then there are the true, perpetual assholes. The ones with their B.S. in Assholeanomics with a minor in hole of ass. I've heard of degrees: criminology, literature, law, some culture of an obscure country I've never heard of, art/religion of pole dancing (that one is pretty simple. Twist, twirl, climb, and jiggle. Not available online, however. Congrats, Doctor!), theology, or medicine. Maybe it's just me, but I am becoming convinced some people take Asshole 101. I don't even want to know what University offers that course. A course focused on defining and refining assholery/assholing.
Chances are, we've all been called an asshole at SOME point in our life. And we probably deserved it. But, if several people are in agreement and call you out on your assholishness on a regular basis, you're probably an asshole. You're most likely
one if you walk by a group of people, and suddenly, silence. You walk by. No, you are not dreaming...they are talking about you after you pass by. "Did you hear Charlie yelled at his dry cleaner because his pleats weren't pleated enough? That asshole."
I have always been taught: 1. if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all (oh, MY, if you think I'm bad, you should hear what I would say if I am not biting my tongue!), and 2. always give people the benefit of the doubt. I do my very best to uphold both concepts. Some days are easier than others. For the most part, the human species is fairly nice and considerate. They hold doors open for you, they let you sit down when you're 7 months pregnant and no other seats are available, they chase you down after you leave a store to tell you that you've dropped a dollar or have forgotten your case of water, they find your child's wallet in the middle of a busy road, and call the library and school from info found and spend a week trying to track down that kid/parents to give his wallet back (that was me. I got some money in my Karma bank for that. Just saying.), or they anonymously pay for your coffee in the drive-thru.
I think Urban Dictionary sums it up pretty well: Asshole (n): A totally and completely passive-aggressive JERK who believes the world SHOULD and MUST revolve around his own wants and needs and whims and who therefore has a sick stupid disregard for the universal law of "reaping what you sow" cuz he "thinks" it SURELY could not apply to or negatively impact him because he's too much The S_ _ t!!! (Note: I copied and pasted directly from the site. It took me a lot of effort to not correct grammar, punctuation, or the word "cuz", and I would just plain say the word "shit").
The point of this post? A reminder: don't be an asshole! At least not on a regular basis.
P.S. I am quite impressed with the way I could turn the word asshole into a verb,gerund, noun, and adjective.
Then there are the true, perpetual assholes. The ones with their B.S. in Assholeanomics with a minor in hole of ass. I've heard of degrees: criminology, literature, law, some culture of an obscure country I've never heard of, art/religion of pole dancing (that one is pretty simple. Twist, twirl, climb, and jiggle. Not available online, however. Congrats, Doctor!), theology, or medicine. Maybe it's just me, but I am becoming convinced some people take Asshole 101. I don't even want to know what University offers that course. A course focused on defining and refining assholery/assholing.
Chances are, we've all been called an asshole at SOME point in our life. And we probably deserved it. But, if several people are in agreement and call you out on your assholishness on a regular basis, you're probably an asshole. You're most likely
one if you walk by a group of people, and suddenly, silence. You walk by. No, you are not dreaming...they are talking about you after you pass by. "Did you hear Charlie yelled at his dry cleaner because his pleats weren't pleated enough? That asshole."
I have always been taught: 1. if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all (oh, MY, if you think I'm bad, you should hear what I would say if I am not biting my tongue!), and 2. always give people the benefit of the doubt. I do my very best to uphold both concepts. Some days are easier than others. For the most part, the human species is fairly nice and considerate. They hold doors open for you, they let you sit down when you're 7 months pregnant and no other seats are available, they chase you down after you leave a store to tell you that you've dropped a dollar or have forgotten your case of water, they find your child's wallet in the middle of a busy road, and call the library and school from info found and spend a week trying to track down that kid/parents to give his wallet back (that was me. I got some money in my Karma bank for that. Just saying.), or they anonymously pay for your coffee in the drive-thru.
I think Urban Dictionary sums it up pretty well: Asshole (n): A totally and completely passive-aggressive JERK who believes the world SHOULD and MUST revolve around his own wants and needs and whims and who therefore has a sick stupid disregard for the universal law of "reaping what you sow" cuz he "thinks" it SURELY could not apply to or negatively impact him because he's too much The S_ _ t!!! (Note: I copied and pasted directly from the site. It took me a lot of effort to not correct grammar, punctuation, or the word "cuz", and I would just plain say the word "shit").
The point of this post? A reminder: don't be an asshole! At least not on a regular basis.
P.S. I am quite impressed with the way I could turn the word asshole into a verb,gerund, noun, and adjective.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Toxic
Not to say Britney Spears is my favorite, but, one of her songs, Toxic, seemed fitting.
You're toxic
I'm slipping under
With a taste of poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
While she is singing about a guy that puts her under his spell, I am talking about toxic people. I read a blog about toxic people, and it said "Realize that until you stop allowing a toxic person to hurt you and your life, they will continue to do so." This is the truth. We all know those people. We have them in our life. They are the negative naysayers that never seem to be quite content with life unless others are miserable. They feed from negative energy, and give negative energy off. They drain others of happiness. "Remember that toxic people are extremely negative, nasty, miserable, whiny, jealous, inconsiderate, selfish, criminally minded, mentally ill, judgemental, evil, etc. The toxic individual exudes the dark side of human nature all of the time." Yet, we deal with them. We "put up" with their abuse. Why? That's a good question. I have found I have just learned to deal and tolerate the abuse. Sweep it under a rug, so to speak. I made excuses for them. Like, oh, she's just having a bad day, or she's under stress.
I did not want to face the truth: she found ways to bring me down and antagonize me. She made ME feel like I'd done something wrong. She was a little black rain cloud that followed me around, waiting for any opportunity to storm on me. She stressed me out! What would she say? What would she do? She haunted my thoughts and I always feared for expressing myself, as I wasn't sure what sort of mood she might be in that day. She was like a cobra waiting to strike. Facebook is a wonderful way to connect with others and stay in touch, yet, it has been a strong driving force behind distructing relationships. I am guilty of calling others out "publically" on my page. But, it is MY page, my place to say whatever the hell I want, regardless of the nature of my "Status". If you don't like what I have to say....HEY, here's a novel idea: DON'T READ IT! Simple! Yet that simple task isn't always possible to everyone. They can't resist the chance to start the drama. They feed from it; they crave it. In their own way, they want attention just as badly, but simply deflect their attitudes onto others to avoid seeming like they want it.
I have also found these people are really hurting somehow. They have pain for whatever reason, but they do not want to face themselves, so they detach from their feelings and lash out at others. I know I can be negative. We all have our days. More often than not, the feeling passes and we are back on track the next day. Toxic people are on the "I pretend not to give a shit" train, and happily toot their own horns on the way to the City of Miserable 24/7. I've also noticed when they lash out, their venomous comments are really only a reflection of what they are feeling. She calls me fat. Why? Because she was jealous I was skinny, she was fat. She lost a bunch of weight, and suddenly resentment. And now I'm fat (given I could stand to lose a few of these last stubborn baby pounds!), because she's skinny. Does that make sense? Nope. In fact, she would go out of her way to make me feel fat by constantly commenting on how thin she was, and how she cut out meat and carbs, and actually researched my height/weight ratio after I told her my BMI was fine for my size. She didn't believe me. I am fat, of course. And I eat meat and carbs. Sigh, I am just an awful person, aren't I? Meanwhile, her anorexic diet consisted of energy drinks and refined sugars. Healthy.
After 6 years, I had finally had it! She felt the need to inform me that my "constant" posts on Facebook about me being tired, and a single mom, and complaining my child is an asshole (I don't think I ever posted THAT!) are pathetic and boring. Why did she feel the need to do that? It's my page, so how does that affect her? She couldn't resist. She HAD to comment. Why would one's so called best friend say such hurtful, offensive things ON PURPOSE? That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Timid, shy, and scared Julie went bye bye. Out came the strong, I don't need this shit Julie. Why did I deal with it? She had me under her thumb, and I let her do it. I finally let my inner bitch out and nipped it in the bud. I think she was ultimately shocked that I actually stood up for myself. With that, the mean reaction and stinging ensued. Name calling, hurtful comments, false observations. I didn't respond. Until after she blasted me, I pulled out all of the cards and hit her where it hurt. I got down and dirty. She should be proud, she taught me!
I questioned myself. Was this the right decision? Afterall, she'd been my best friend for 6 years and was there for me for some hard times I went through and some milestones in my life. I felt sick. I just pulled the plug on our "relationship." We were really close. But, 100% complete opposites. Every day since then, I've felt better and more certain of the choice I made. There is a grief period, that's normal. But I feel lighter every day now that I don't have to bear the weight of constantly wondering when she would strike again. Did I hurt her? Probably. Do I regret it? A little bit. With time, it will fade. Every person enters and exits your life for a reason. They serve a purpose at some point. So, thanks to her for helping me through my tough times. I need to open a new chapter in my life, and only I can do that.
I will leave you with words from the toxic person blog:
You have the power to walk away from a toxic person and not allow them into your life anymore. Freedom is a wonderful and liberating experience. Realize that toxic people can drain your health, energy, well being and sanity. It helps to move away from toxic people and move towards people who are positive and uplifting. Positive people are a blessing.
Thank you and hugs to my positive people!
Also, if you know a toxic person, this website might be helpful. It made me feel less guilty and more sane. http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art39146.asp
You're toxic
I'm slipping under
With a taste of poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
While she is singing about a guy that puts her under his spell, I am talking about toxic people. I read a blog about toxic people, and it said "Realize that until you stop allowing a toxic person to hurt you and your life, they will continue to do so." This is the truth. We all know those people. We have them in our life. They are the negative naysayers that never seem to be quite content with life unless others are miserable. They feed from negative energy, and give negative energy off. They drain others of happiness. "Remember that toxic people are extremely negative, nasty, miserable, whiny, jealous, inconsiderate, selfish, criminally minded, mentally ill, judgemental, evil, etc. The toxic individual exudes the dark side of human nature all of the time." Yet, we deal with them. We "put up" with their abuse. Why? That's a good question. I have found I have just learned to deal and tolerate the abuse. Sweep it under a rug, so to speak. I made excuses for them. Like, oh, she's just having a bad day, or she's under stress.
I did not want to face the truth: she found ways to bring me down and antagonize me. She made ME feel like I'd done something wrong. She was a little black rain cloud that followed me around, waiting for any opportunity to storm on me. She stressed me out! What would she say? What would she do? She haunted my thoughts and I always feared for expressing myself, as I wasn't sure what sort of mood she might be in that day. She was like a cobra waiting to strike. Facebook is a wonderful way to connect with others and stay in touch, yet, it has been a strong driving force behind distructing relationships. I am guilty of calling others out "publically" on my page. But, it is MY page, my place to say whatever the hell I want, regardless of the nature of my "Status". If you don't like what I have to say....HEY, here's a novel idea: DON'T READ IT! Simple! Yet that simple task isn't always possible to everyone. They can't resist the chance to start the drama. They feed from it; they crave it. In their own way, they want attention just as badly, but simply deflect their attitudes onto others to avoid seeming like they want it.
I have also found these people are really hurting somehow. They have pain for whatever reason, but they do not want to face themselves, so they detach from their feelings and lash out at others. I know I can be negative. We all have our days. More often than not, the feeling passes and we are back on track the next day. Toxic people are on the "I pretend not to give a shit" train, and happily toot their own horns on the way to the City of Miserable 24/7. I've also noticed when they lash out, their venomous comments are really only a reflection of what they are feeling. She calls me fat. Why? Because she was jealous I was skinny, she was fat. She lost a bunch of weight, and suddenly resentment. And now I'm fat (given I could stand to lose a few of these last stubborn baby pounds!), because she's skinny. Does that make sense? Nope. In fact, she would go out of her way to make me feel fat by constantly commenting on how thin she was, and how she cut out meat and carbs, and actually researched my height/weight ratio after I told her my BMI was fine for my size. She didn't believe me. I am fat, of course. And I eat meat and carbs. Sigh, I am just an awful person, aren't I? Meanwhile, her anorexic diet consisted of energy drinks and refined sugars. Healthy.
After 6 years, I had finally had it! She felt the need to inform me that my "constant" posts on Facebook about me being tired, and a single mom, and complaining my child is an asshole (I don't think I ever posted THAT!) are pathetic and boring. Why did she feel the need to do that? It's my page, so how does that affect her? She couldn't resist. She HAD to comment. Why would one's so called best friend say such hurtful, offensive things ON PURPOSE? That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Timid, shy, and scared Julie went bye bye. Out came the strong, I don't need this shit Julie. Why did I deal with it? She had me under her thumb, and I let her do it. I finally let my inner bitch out and nipped it in the bud. I think she was ultimately shocked that I actually stood up for myself. With that, the mean reaction and stinging ensued. Name calling, hurtful comments, false observations. I didn't respond. Until after she blasted me, I pulled out all of the cards and hit her where it hurt. I got down and dirty. She should be proud, she taught me!
I questioned myself. Was this the right decision? Afterall, she'd been my best friend for 6 years and was there for me for some hard times I went through and some milestones in my life. I felt sick. I just pulled the plug on our "relationship." We were really close. But, 100% complete opposites. Every day since then, I've felt better and more certain of the choice I made. There is a grief period, that's normal. But I feel lighter every day now that I don't have to bear the weight of constantly wondering when she would strike again. Did I hurt her? Probably. Do I regret it? A little bit. With time, it will fade. Every person enters and exits your life for a reason. They serve a purpose at some point. So, thanks to her for helping me through my tough times. I need to open a new chapter in my life, and only I can do that.
I will leave you with words from the toxic person blog:
You have the power to walk away from a toxic person and not allow them into your life anymore. Freedom is a wonderful and liberating experience. Realize that toxic people can drain your health, energy, well being and sanity. It helps to move away from toxic people and move towards people who are positive and uplifting. Positive people are a blessing.
Thank you and hugs to my positive people!
Also, if you know a toxic person, this website might be helpful. It made me feel less guilty and more sane. http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art39146.asp
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