I had this long and angry post in mind about a response to somebody saying my life was “easy”, but the more I wrote, and the more I read, I found myself to be so tired of it. Who am I trying to convince, when I’m living it? Who do I need to have on my side, when it will always be ME who is solving my own problems? I don’t ask for anything. I’ll suffer in silence with the last ounce of blood in my body before I call someone for help. I’ll do surveys all night to make twenty bucks before I hit up anyone.
If your life was super hard, and you had to come up through tons of bullshit, then yes congratulations you did it yourself. You did the work, maybe you have some good advice. But don’t come swooping down on my ass, just because my brand of misfortune isn’t the textbook standard of not being easy. I’m here, rent free because my father got tired of living with me. I have a temporary job babysitting, because I’m taking classes online. I’m taking classes online–which are not easy, which are not simple, which are not an “idiot’s courses”, fighting to hold on to a GPA over 3.6 so I can get some money off my tuition, and you know….GRADUATE and finally get a decent job? What’s easy about that? What’s easy about being at home all day? Is that what people think I do? Just sit around and eat bon bons?
I’m at home all day because I don’t have a car. Can’t afford, can’t drive. I’m at home while my aunt is at work, which also means taking care of my grandmother, on top of taking care of a kid. I love them both, but sometimes they collide. What part of that is easy? What part of learning the lesson of living life at my own pace, while being told a million other things about how to live is easy? What part of having family question you and wonder and worry behind your back about failure status is easy? What part of fighting embarrassment is easy? Every single day, no matter what is said or how I feel–I work towards my goals. Every single fucking day, no matter who has their judgment because our work is different–I put in the time, even if it’s only a cent closer.
What is easy about contending with your own emotions and self worth? What is easy about depression? What is easy about opening up yourself to other people, and having it thrown back into your face? What’s easy about any of this?
You will not find me falling on a fainting couch with a silk hanky in my hands. I will hide myself in darkness or somebody’s bathroom to cry, before I face another judgmental human being for help and answers. I am tired of it. People don’t know how to treat you, sometimes. Very rarely will I trust someone with those feelings. You will not see me saying the world owes me anything. It would be NICE to catch a break, but not everyone gets one. I’m here spiraling into madness between keeping positive and having my vibes killed, and then being told to get over that with a dose of reality.
You can pick three things out of 100 fucked up parts of my life to say things are easy. Why do you care about that, if you supposedly like me? Don’t you have a better way of telling somebody that stuff? It seems a lot less like reality, and a lot more like a bitter person who hasn’t fully contended with their own crap, coming at me because I’m in constant attempt to handle mine. AGAIN, I was asleep the day they were handing out the do-right manuals. I’m a late bloomer, winging this shit. You found YOUR way to wing it, so let ME find mine, damn it.
I know I’m behind. For fuck’s sake, I see that every single day on my timeline. Things have a way of getting to you. Last time I checked, I was a human being with a heart. It would be different if I didn’t do anything about it. And I know I won’t please everyone with my thoughts or choices. It’s frustrating, but it’s fine.
So I have decided to nip things in the bud.
I will not explain or convince anymore. The same write offs I have been given will be sent right back. I will protect myself. Perhaps I have revealed and given up too much. The same applies to those feelings of dejection and rejection–old friends, of course. We have been pals since elementary school, when no boy wanted us, and the girls either made fun of us or lowkey friended us.
It’s not as easy as you think.