The last post was a cleansing of sorts. Showing you my naughty bits and seeing if you stuck around. Some of you triumphantly commented that you are NOT the things I was admitting to and Yay to you! You get a gold sticker! <– See? A bitch! (Or quite possible Asperger’s – blurting things out without thinking of the consequences.)
I was labelled a bitch back at uni, because of my very dry sense of humour. Well, I call it humour, other people call it being a bitch. After uni I learnt to moderate my humour into the acceptable range and was careful with whom I allowed it to show. Mostly though, my whole life has been about learning to appear subdued and emotionless, because my true self was not acceptable to my family and school friends. The one and only time I was me, was at university. And when I was at home with my ex. Also with my sister. She sees the real me and sometimes I allow my children to see it. I am bitchy, I am funny, I am kooky and self-deprecating.
Being called a bitch at uni hurt. But then I took it on as the thing that made me different. If people expected me to be a bitch, I would be a bitch and they could choose whether they took is as humour or a serious offense. Being a bitch is only part of my personality. It’s mostly something that goes on in my head, or with very close friends. If I let it out on the unsuspecting public it always ends up offending people. Fuck them, I say.
I even wrote a few posts on here as “Snarly Bitch“.
My filters, as you probably know, are mostly non-existent online. I say it as I see it.
It’s very different in real life. My filters and boundaries are made of solid titanium and I don’t lower them for just anyone. There are maybe three people IRL who I let see the real me. Warts and all. And, amazingly, they still like me. Because they realise that we all have a dark side. A shadow self. I, unlike most people, let mine see the light of day. I unleash it online and let it wreak havoc. I realise that I really like that part of me. I want to tell certain people to go fuck themselves.
I love Clementine Ford. I wish I had the guts and the cares to write like her. I don’t, because I need to protect my mental health and I get all the feels when I offend someone, or when someone says mean things about me. I know that I couldn’t cope with the kind of vitriol that she encounters daily from haters. Whenever someone calls me out on my bitchiness, on my disagreeing point of view, I get angry, but I also get hurt. And I can’t handle too much of that. Not yet, anyway. I would love to have the same kind of impact on the world that Clem does, but I’m not ready for the backlash.
So I keep my bitchiness mostly to myself. There is a huge part of me that is more Buddhist, “harm noone”, love everyone, than bitch. It is however much harder to channel. The anger that lies just beneath the surface is much quicker to break through and show itself as Snarly Bitch.
Like everyone, I’m probably a conundrum. A dichotomy of extremes, both of which I try to hide, which results in a middle-ground, boring kind of person. Someone with strong opinions, but afraid to voice them, unless I’m channeling Snarly Bitch. I wish I knew how to do it from a place of love and peace, because I really do want to change the world.