Sunday, November 15, 2015

A Filter for My Mouth? But I'm a Constant Fucking Delight!

I grew up in a household of nine people and one bathroom. If something was happening that you didn't like, you had to speak up or forever hold your peace. So, we spoke our minds.

If someone was taking too long in the bathroom, overextending their stay, you got yourself a knife, picked the lock, and clawed your way into that bathroom because...My turn!

I grew up in the 'burbs of New Jersey. We had Sunday dinner every week. I was the youngest. We were a nice group but we didn't hold back.

"I said pass the fucking butter!" (Did you read that with a New Jersey accent?)

No seriously, sometimes it was like that.

I'm a pretty open person. I'm brutally honest. I'm always raw.

Don't come to me asking my opinion if you can't handle the shit that comes out of my mouth next. I'll kick your ass into next Wednesday. But at the end of the conversation, after I explain it to you (and occasionally lick your tears), you end up with complete understanding and thank me for my brutality.

Recently, I was told that I was fake. It stuck with me. How could that even be possible? How could anyone actually think that when I've always told it like it is? Then it occurred to me...some people just can't handle my personality and they're defensive in order to cope with it.

Then why are you my friend?

Why do you want to be in my life?

You can't want my honesty one minute then ask me to tone it down the next. It doesn't work that way.

I've come to realize that not everyone was brought up to say what their feeling. Some have even been taught not to. They had to keep it to themselves and so today, as an adult, life is pretty fucking hard for them. It's hard to unlearn what you were taught while growing up.

If you follow me on social media you know that I have a twisted sense of humor. Some of what I post may make you cringe. Then you take it in and you nod your head in agreement. You get it. It may take you some time, but you get it. Then you sit back and wish you could hit that share button but you're too concerned about what others will think of you. My own mother follows me. I do not filter.

I get emails every day. Every day. From people thanking me for putting myself out there and for being real. Some of what I say on this site needs to be said because there are so many people huddled in a corner of their house wishing they could say it themselves.

Thank you for making me feel like I'm not alone.

Thank you for putting yourself out there because it makes me feel less paranoid. 

Just...thank you.

Do me a solid, okay? If you see me promoting a post with a hashtag that makes you wonder what state of mind I'm in, click the fucking link. More often than not there's an undisclosed disclosure letting you know to put your ass back in your seat because that's not the point I'm making today. Read the fucking essay. Read because knowledge is power and sometimes when you read from someone else's perspective, you realize that's been your perspective all along. You just didn't know how to put it into a sentence.

#Suicide doesn't mean I'm lacing the noose.

It means that's the topic for today and pull up a chair because you're about to learn about it in a whole new light.

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