Torn Up Tuesday

Bitch. Rude. Obnoxious. Annoying. Self-obsessed. Bossy. Jerk. Not pretty. Jealous. Irritating. Picky. Snobby. Know-it-all. Weird.

Any of these terms sound familiar? They’re all things people have said about me either to my face or behind my back that I’ve heard. As if I don’t know. As if I’m oblivious to the fact that I come across as rude or annoying or picky. I know. Believe me, I know. But do you?

While you call me that, whether to my face, to my “friends”, or to someone else, and I know about it, do you know why I’m like that? Do you know that I’m so terrified of screwing something up that I have to ask fifty questions about something you might see as simple? Do you know that I nearly threw up on my way here because I was so scared? Even though, logically, I know there is zero reason for me to be afraid. Do you know that I studied this for hours to make sure I understood it completely? Do you know that I have more experience with this than your instructor? Do you know that I had to brush you off because there are fifty other people waiting for me? Do you know that five other people have asked me that exact same question even though I spelled it out word for word in the presentation? Do you know that I spent hours and hours making sure that this was as flawless as I could get it? Do you know that my brothers said the same thing? Do you know that I’ve already thought through your critique twice? Do you know that I’ve been up three hours longer than you and went to sleep long after you did as well? Do you know that I’ve had to be an adult for too long and I have neither the time nor the energy to be a stupid teenager with you? Do you know I’ve had more “friends” betray me than you’ve Do you know?

No, I really don’t think you do. But still, you call me a bitch. You think I’m lazy and snobby and a picky know-it-all. You think I’m creepy or weird for maintaining eye contact when you’re speaking. You think I don’t know how you perceive me. But I do. It doesn’t mean I need to hear it.

I’m not trying to be a bitch, I just physically do not have time to re-explain to you what I just re-explained twice. I’m not picky, I just have allergies and sensitivities to a lot of things. I’m not staring, I’m trying to pay attention because I think you have valuable information. I promise, I don’t mean to be bossy or a know-it-all or anything like that. I’ve just spent a ton of time learning things and if I know you’re doing something incorrectly, I want to help you do it right. I don’t mean to be rude, I just want to help. I also know I’m not the prettiest or the thinnest or the nicest. I don’t do much to my hair and I generally don’t wear make up. I don’t want to spend the time to do it all up and, frankly, I don’t see the point.

But your words, you descriptions of me, do you know what those do to me? Do you know that I’ll eventually go home and cry? Or that I’ll allow tears to fall silently while I’m driving home? Do you know how much it hurts to know that I’m trying my best and it still isn’t good enough? Do you know? Do you know that I considered you my friend until I heard all of that? Do you know how lonely I feel? Do you know?

You say it’s no wonder that I’m still single. Do you know how much that hurts? I spend my far more time than I would like reminding myself that I don’t need a guy, a boyfriend, a husband to be complete. That doesn’t mean I don’t want someone to hold me at the end of the day. That doesn’t mean I don’t long to have a partner in life. But between my values and your comments, that’s not going to happen easily.

So do me a favor. Actually, no. Do yourself a favor. Hold you comments, Don’t tell everyone what you think of someone else. We all think rude comments. Don’t let them make it passed your lops. Some thoughts should just be kept to yourself. Because while you may just think I’m weird and bossy, I’m fighting as hard as I can. I’m doing my best. Those comments just make it that much harder; they tear us up that much more. If you’re going to leave eventually anyway, don’t make it hurt more. Just be kind to lonely souls.

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