I’m going to sleep like a baby for the first time in ages. I haven’t been this mad since I went to the bowling alley, caused a scene, got kicked out, and tried to fist fight a man stone cold sober. (Dustin. If you’re wondering.)
I went riding around apartment complexes looking for somebody’s very specific ass I was gonna verbally tear into, and I realized I must be madder than hell — because I hadn’t done that since I got jacked up on Maker’s Mark at 3 in the morning and went there looking for my “father.”
That was a showdown of epic proportions that only resulted in me staying out of jail because the cops thought I had every right to tear into that no-count son of a bitch.
Then, I ran a mile around the lake. I haven’t ran a mile around that lake since I was young enough to still give a shit.
37 is a lot harder than 27.
When I was that age, I ran around it 5 times a day, did 100 crunches, 16 different sets of 16 rep arm weights, and 100 squats. Religiously. I also didn’t eat carbs.
Now, I had to stop and bend over a few times just to make it a mile.
Every time I bent over, I just saying to myself (yes, out loud): “This is your time!”
I have let caring for my grandmother, living on just a few hours of sleep a night on her couch drive me to the breaking point until I’m so exhausted I can’t even get up and go to the twins birthday party because it’s the only day I actually have help with my grandmother and all I want to do is sleep. I can’t even make it through one football game at home without having to get up and go to Burns because I know she’ll be alone.
And she was — as usual — all alone. And full of lies and excuses for the one supposed to be there taking care of her.
I have to go all Benny Cowan (the aforementioned “father”)
with a baseball bat in my backseat to get anything to change.
I’m so completely over it. I dared anybody to say one word to me, let alone get in my way, because I’ve done it alone too long.
I’ve done everything alone too long. That ends right now.
This is my time. That’s what I kept telling myself as sheer anger drove me around that lake.
Hillary is about to take hold of that tangerine-tinted twat tomorrow night and tear him a new one, and it’s her time. It’s my time. It’s our time. Let’s seize on it, ladies.
I let a man steal 5 years of my life, locked up in wondering why he married some tall, “kind” girl that — no matter how pretty, let’s be real — won’t ever be me. Torturing myself over what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough, when the truth is,God was just doing me a favor.
Because I deserve somebody who would smash a grown man in the mouth for disrespecting me, I don’t deserve to be the man myself in all my relationships. I let that devastating death of a dream and heartbreak overlap into a codependent relationship with a man that got so far in his addiction, he would rather lie when the truth sounds better. Cheating on me with girls that look like the back side of my unwashed ass and outweigh me by a good 150, while I was exercising myself stupid. I let people use me and take advantage of me — from a certain member of my own family to boyfriends — and then when you stand up and demand a little damn respect, they tell you you’re crazy, that it never happened, and throw some verbal abuse your way. I may never physically be able to be in the shape I was when I was 27 because my heart is not so good, but I don’t have to eat my damn feelings and let stress sicken me. I can stop taking it and I can go the f-ck off.
I’ve been an insomniac for two decades and the only time I’ve ever slept good is after I go the f-ck off. I should do it some more.
I’ve wasted enough of my life making other people more important than me,
That ends now. I’m taking my power back. I’m taking my skinny pants back. And I’m taking my sanity back. One “For Sale” sign is all it takes to start over. And if anybody deserves to start over, it’s me.
And I’m keeping the baseball bat in the back seat.
Nobody takes advantage of this me — ever. And I need to stay her.
Ladies, you relate?