The Victim
There is a particular brand of women I don’t tend to be friends with in real life. I have no patience for them. I don’t want them around me.
Yet I find it harder to escape this type when I’m online. Social media tends to breed them.
I’m talking about women who are The Victim.
These are women that have a pervasive ‘woe is me’ attitude… about everything. And they’re too busy crying about how life has done them wrong to change anything.
I know everyone goes through their ‘things’. People are entitled to bad days, bad weeks, even bad years. Sometimes shit happens. Even I’ve had my fair share of downer moments on this blog in the past few years.
But it’s when you’d rather sit around feeling sorry for yourself, wallowing in your own self pity, that I tend to tune out.
My friends in my day-to-day world tend to be women of strength. Women who, in some cases, have been dealt a pretty shitty hand lately. And they’ll talk about their frustrations and what’s bothering them. Sometimes they even have a good cry over things. Then they pick themselves up and move forward. Because life does not stop. They are women who choose to focus on what is right in their lives and make the best out of what they can’t always control.
Then you have the other category of women. I sometimes wonder how much of their constant personal drama is locked into a cycle because they feed off the attention of others. They surround themselves with people who will pat them on the head, tell them how life has dealt them a raw deal, and constantly confirm to them how wonderful they are, over and over and over and over,… and over and over and … yeah, well… If you’re that type, I probably stopped reading and commenting on your blog about 5 ‘overs’ ago.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I never expect people to agree with me on everything (just like I don’t expect everyone to agree with this post). My friends regularly have discussions on differing opinions. I love that. I feel it helps me learn, grow, view the world as I might not have thought to.
By surrounding yourself with people that will only agree with you, and attack anyone who says the least little thing outside of the acceptable rote responses, you are locking yourself into victim mode.
What I’ve been considering, lately, is how much I contribute to this by not saying anything. By not commenting that ‘hey, I’m sorry you’re having a rough time, but look at your wonderful healthy kids, your great job, your nice house,’ am I just as bad as those people who smother The Victim with the protective shield that drips with venom for the naysayers?
And I guess that’s why I don’t speak up. I don’t want to become a target for the whiners posse who are posed to attack anyone who doesn’t agree fully with everything The Victim says. I don’t feel like causing huge internet drama through one comment.
And so, the next question becomes, as my hand hovers over the unfollow and delete buttons, why don’t I just eradicate these people from my online life like I would my real life?
Possibly because I have learned that in this day of social media that a simple unfollow, a quick delete, a removal from my blog roll (blog rolls are meant to be dynamic, people. Sheesh. Who I read changes on my mood), can cause just as much drama. Because for The Victim, anything that can cause drama means more attention for them. Booyah!
So either way I’m left feeding the addiction for these people. And I do believe it’s an addiction. To attention. To blog stats.
So what to do?
Cause drama, or sit back and watch it?
The Lowest Priority
Raise your hand if 99% of the doctors appointment you’ve been to since having kids have been for them.
I’m totally guilty of this. I spend at least a portion of each week running to this appointment or that therapy session for Vista. And I would never, ever, ever forget her nightly meds.
But when it comes to doctors appointments for myself, or even remember to take my daily dose of happy, it sort of falls into the ‘I’ll get to that eventually pile’.
I’ve had a doctors visit on my to-do list for the past two-and-a-half years. It just hasn’t been that big a priority. It’s not like I was dying or anything. I simply am getting headaches and migraines more often. It’s been like that since I first got pregnant with Vista. But, in the grand scheme of things, it just wasn’t life altering enough to actually bother with the hassle of organizing a visit to the doctor for myself.
The past few month have been worse, so I finally got my act together and made an appointment.
Sitting in the office today, I felt sort of silly whining about headaches. I mean, really? But he nodded, raised an eyebrow when I mentioned how persistent they were and the occasional dizzy spell. He whipped out the handy-dandy blood pressure cuff and took a reading, and then a second one…. and a third one to confirm the first two. 150 over 90. That? Is not good. And that would probably explain the headaches.
I used to have perfect 120/80 pressure. But once I got pregnant with Vista, my blood pressure started creeping up. The day I finally went into labor it hit 160/115.
But after I had her, I got busy with new baby stuff. And there just didn’t seem to be time for anything else.
I’m realizing now I should have made the time. And I know most parents are guilty of that. We neglect ourselves in favor of our children.
So, I walked out of the doctors today with a prescription for blood pressure meds, two prescriptions for migraine meds, and a lab requisition form with almost every other box checked off. Evidently my doctor thinks draining every last drop of blood from my body will somehow help things.
But I will give him points for being thorough. He wants to make sure there’s nothing else I’ve neglected. So I’m getting the full panel – Electrolytes, glucose, cholesterol, vitamin B12, vitamin D, thyroid, protein, and a bunch of others I have no idea what they are for. Oh, and a bonus ECG, just for the fun of it.
I think we need to remind ourselves every once in a while that our own health is just as important as our kids. It doesn’t help them if we leave things too long and end up sick ourselves. So the next time you think ‘Oh…I’ll get to it…eventually…”, just go do it. That’s the voice of personal experience speaking.
Enough Of This Emo Shit. Let’s Talk About Vaginas
- Image by Kuzeytac via Flickr
Latin names always freak me out. Take rosacea for example. Sounds more like a skin condition than the family of flowers known as the rose.
Oh wait… it is a skin condition too. Well nix that.
But you see what I mean. Latin names are confusing.
You don’t tell a woman she has a nice gluteus maximus. No of course not. You complement her on her fabulously toned ass, which she’s obviously spent hours in the gym for, and isn’t it nice that she has that kind of time, while the rest of us sit around eating bon-bons all day in our muumuus. Pass the chocolate please.
Same as you don’t talk about bumping your ulnar nerve. No, you hit your damn funny bone which isn’t so funny when it’s your own elbow, is it? Ha! Who’s laughing now?
And how many of you pick umbilicus lint? Show of hands? Well there you go. Although apparently some people have a fetish for it.
My point is, Latin is the root of many body parts. But the English language has mangled it or ditched it all together in favor of the comfortable, the known, the easy to pronounce.
So….
Why the hell haven’t we done that for our own vaginas? Oh sure we have nicknames for it.
- Vajayjay.
- Hoo-ha.
- Beaver – my personal Canadian favorite
- For those who don’t wax – Bearded Oyster
- Cooter (I’ve always wondered if this was where the word ‘cooties’ came from).
- And for those who are really fru fru and need to get their heads out of their asses (sorry, anal cavity) – Flower
But we haven’t really come up with one solid, specific name to replace the dreaded ‘vagina’.
And things just go downhill when you start talking about the rest of the bits down there.
Clitoris. Sounds like a celestial body, doesn’t it. You know. ‘Clitoris; second star to the right and straight on till morning’.
Then you have ‘mons pubis’ which I’m pretty sure is a mountain on a moon circling around Venus. (If your first thought was ‘Hey, Venus has no moons’ you are a) TOTALLY missing the point here and b) in serious need of a sex life)
And don’t forget about the two constellations Labia Minora and Labia Majora.
No wonder men are clueless about how things down there work, when WE can’t even pronounce them.
The only word down there that is recognizable to them is ‘hood’, but in typical fashion, half of them these days look under a hood and have no idea what to do with what’s there.
So I vote we rename everything. Start with a clean slate. Something maybe men will relate to and want to play with (I was thinking penis, but that’s already been taken).
Or maybe we just need to start renaming things men like. The Heisman Trophy could easily become the Hymen trophy, right?
So lets hear it. What would your naming theme be? Sports? Women’s Magazines? Car parts (since we’re already started down that path anyway)?
Spot the Difference
As I sat on the couch last night and tried to finish up a client ezine, Vista got up from the floor where she was using Bil as a jungle gym, grabbed her ‘laptop’, and climbed up on the couch next to me.
Part of me laughed, but there was a little part of me that was completely horrified. I want her to be two. I want her to play with blocks and barbies. I want her to create with paintbrush not Paint.Net.
So I watched the great interest when Momspotting was launched on BlogHer back in November. I wanted to see how other moms handled technology with their children. I wanted to see how they navigated this digital minefield.
I have to say, I’ve been a bit disappointed so far.
Momspotting has become less about families and technology and more about being in an exclusive group.
It’s easy to find this group of moms. Just do a search on Twitter for the hashtag #momspotting.
Oh, but don’t use it yourself. Oh no. That hash tag is just for this exclusive group. If you use it and they catch you, you will be sent a sternly worded DM or email letting you know that YOU are not a Momspotter and THEY are and YOU can’t use #momspotting because it’s only for THEM.
I wish I was kidding, but I’m not.
I’ve never personally gotten one of these gems myself, but I have several friends who have and have showed me the polite, but stern, ‘you’re not one of us’ notes.
So instead of Momspotting opening a dialogue about how we protect and direct our children in this age of technology, it’s become a marker to denote a closed group. This has been evidenced by more and more of these tweets having nothing to do with technology (and wasn’t that the point?)
I think this was a noble initiative. And it had (and still does have) huge potential. But it needs to be an inclusive conversation starter.
Rather than having these 20 or so moms ‘owning’ this hashtag, why not make them the leaders instead? Let them prompt, coach, and encourage everyone to share their own experiences, their own tips, their own rules around technology and their families.
But by shutting people down when they try to participate and use the #momspotting tag, they’re nullifying a huge part of the effect they could have. People want to be part of a conversation, not just spoken at.
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Just a quick warning…. If you’re easily offended, or at work, you *may* not want to click on any of the links in this post.
- Image by Alice Harold via Flickr
It used to be that everyone in our family would buy for everyone else and Christmas morning would be filled with hours of present opening and sipping warm apple cider.
As my brothers and I got older, and we moved out on our own, with our own bills to pay, we switched to drawing names. Everyone’s name went into a bowl, you bought for that one person, max $100.
Now with spouses, a few kids, and a high cost of living, new rules have come into play this year. You can buy presents for the two kids. For the adults we’ll do a gift game. Buy a gift, no more than $20, gender neutral, everyone ends up with something.
OK fine. I can go along with most of that.
Except, in this day and age, what do you buy for $20 that’s not absolute crap? And add to the fact it has to be non-gender specific?
Gah!
So I’ve been searching and searching for two of these gifts (one for Bil, one for me) to bring to this exchange.
And I’ve come up empty handed.
And also a little irritated.
I’m at the point, where I’m really tempted just to be a bitch and really do something that would just fuck the whole thing up (well, from my mother’s point of view, anyways).
I mean, can you imagine my very straight laced strict Catholic father unwraping a nice big 17 inch surprise for his gift? In the most technical terms, it is gender neutral. And OK, so it’s a *bit* over the $20 limit, but not by much.
There’s nothing in the rules that say the gifts had to be appropriate.
But then I think… I don’t want to rock the boat too much. So perhaps a nice T-Shirt. You know, something my mom could wear to work on casual days.
Any other suggestions of $20 shit gifts I could bring that aren’t chocolate covered?
That Which Shall Not Be Named
For the past couple of months there has been an elephant in the room. Everywhere I turn, there it is. I try to avoid looking it in the eye. It sees and looks away. I avoid talking to it. It walks to the corner and sits down. But still, there it is.
And I’m tired of it.
I’m tired of skirting the issue. I’m tired of talking in double speak. I’m tired of innuendos, allegations, comments, blah, blah, blah. I’m sick of it.
I’ve been playing along, keeping my distance. But this isn’t who I am. I’m not a sheep to follow a crowd.
Anyone who knows me knows that I will always tell you want I think. I’m blunt to the point of being brutal. But at least you never have to guess where I stand. Yet, for the past few months everyone has been guessing, questioning, wondering what I think of this elephant in the room.
You want it? Well here it is.
Nic.
There I said her name.
Nic.
OMG. I said it again. Are you still reading? Great.
Yes, Nic and I were friends before the drama. Yes, we created and hosted Blog Her @ Home together. Which, by the way, I’ve been asked several times why I haven’t removed her from that site. Why? Because Blog Her @ Home was not my idea. It was not my brain child. It was hers. And you want me to remove her from a site that she conceived? Why? What purpose would that serve?
Everyone wants to know what I know. I know what you know. No more, no less. I don’t have some magical insider information. Nic has not changed her story about what happened, just because she’s talking to me. She has continued to stand by what she says happened to her. That has not changed through any conversation I’ve had with her.
Nic and I have spent hours going round and round about what she believes and what I believe happened. Yes. Those are two different things.
But the reality is I’m faced with a friend. Is she dramatic? Sure. That’s who she is. She’s never apologized or made excuses for that. But she is someone who has been there for me. Who has spent hours on the phone with me while I cried over whatever my latest life crisis was. Who has been there to offer her support when I needed it most.
And in the past few months she’s really needed a friend. And where was I? Not there. Yup, pretty crappy, eh?
I was the one standing in judgment of her. Standing with hands on my hips saying “I don’t believe you. PROVE IT”. Demanding an explanation. A reason. A rationalization for what had occurred. Throwing accusations. Screaming at the top of my lungs “YOU OWE IT TO US”. Owe. Owe for what? Payment for a debt? Because we made the choice to tweet, post, blog, whatever? And we’re embarrassed by what happened and therefore we make it her problem. “I believed you, therefore you owe me.”
But what happens when she believes herself?
Trust me when I say we’ve talked about it from every angle.
Truth, lies, reality, fiction, sane, mentally ill, this disorder, that disorder. And still, we’re no closer to being on the same page. And we never will be. Ever.
And there it is.
So the decisions I have to make is this: How important is this to me? Is it worth the cost of a friendship? And do I have a right to stand in judgment.
That last one what the big one. And something I only just realized. And what prompted me to write this.
Who am I to stand here and judge her?
Even if I thought she was completely lying and made the whole thing up (no, that’s not what I think), have I never, ever embellished a story? Never lied about anything? Ever? I wish I could say I hadn’t but the truth is, of course I have in my life time. No, none of the stories on this blog are fabrication or embellishment. Unfortunately I have enough drama in my life, I can write fact and that’s enough.
In our last conversation, Nic asked me what I wanted. She can’t change how I view the events. That’s my reality. I wasn’t there, so I can only go by what I think happened. But what do I want. If I say I want the truth? Well she has given me what she believes to be the truth. But I don’t like that truth. So whose problem is that? Hers or mine?
Most of us have been trying to make that her problem. I don’t like what you’re telling me, so give me a different story. But she won’t because she can’t. And so it goes.
Let me lay bare what I do believe. I believe that Nic believes what happened to her. She has owned it. That is not going to change. If you don’t like that truth then I can’t help you.
I need to start owning what I believe. And if that costs me friends / followers / influence so be it.
I don’t blog to make money. I don’t blog because I’m trying to be the latest up-and-comer.
The fact is, I blog because I enjoy the people I’ve met and the connections I’ve made.
As flamboyant, outrageous, and in-your-face as she is, Nic is one of those people.
There are lots of things her and I don’t see eye-to-eye on. This isn’t the first and won’t be the last.
But I’ve decided to stop imposing my expectations, insecurities, and judgments on her, and just be a friend again.
So You’re Not In The Popular Crowd
Quite frankly, get over it. Really.
I just read a post lamenting the fact some big name blogger doesn’t respond to her and wont mentor her.
I am hearing and seeing this attitude more and more.
An expectation of ‘I read your blog and comment and I tweeted you so now you must pay attention to me dammit!’
Um, no. Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how life works.
I don’t follow everyone who follows me. Not because I’m a bitch (I am, but that’s not why). Not because I think I’m bigger / better / more important. I don’t. I comes down to two very simple things.
- Interest. Are you saying something that interests me? If you’re not, then you’re just noise in my twitter stream and blog reader and I don’t bother. This directly feeds into my second point.
- Time. There are only so many hours in a day. I would LOVE to spend all day reading blogs and responding on twitter, but I don’t have the time. I have a 2yr old that needs to be paid attention to, fed, loved, taken places. I have animals that need to be cared for. I have a house that needs to be looked after. I have a husband that I like to spend time with once in a blue moon. I have business deadlines. So, all that stuff needs to be balanced.
I do love getting comments on my blogs and on twitter. The day I stop loving it is the day I will stop blogging. And when I have the time, I try to go through and respond to every single one to let people know how much I appreciate them. But there are days where that’s just not possible. I run out of hours and steam and have to sleep at some point (why do I feel like I should apologize for that??)
And that’s just me. When you look at bloggers and tweeters who have thousands and hundreds of thousands of followers, it’s not realistic to expect them to possibly have the time to respond to each and everyone. When your time is finite you’re going to respond to those people you have established relationships first. That’s just natural.
And yes, there are blogging cliques and twitter cliques. I’m guilty of this. I have a group of people I gravitate to, because we share common interests and personalities. Cliques exist in real life. In a perfect world they wouldn’t, but this isn’t a perfect world. It’s reality.
So rather than going on about how ‘so and so’ won’t talk to me, focus on people who will. Build relationships with them. Those people will recommend you to their friends. Those friends will recommend you to their friends. And eventually you may find yourself having dinner with that one person who was at one time out of reach.
Never underestimate the power of word-of-mouth. I’ve made amazing friends and connections from people who were recommended to me. I’ve also been able to network with some great people after being recommended by a mutual friend.
But if you’re only focused on climbing the popularity ladder, being an attention whore, and using people for what they can do for you, you’re going to find a lot of doors closed to you. People talk. Remember that.
If I can give people starting out any advice it would be the words of my very brilliant friend Colleen: “Instead of trying so hard, just be yourself.”
So, instead of sending emails, requests, comments, tweets to the biggest name bloggers, find people that you can build relationships with. People you have things in common with. People who like you for you. The rest? Will come… all in good time.
The Truth About Ownership
The new brand of quasi-celebrities. Bloggers. We put our lives out there. Share our thoughts, our spouses, our children. Share our highs, our lows, our successes, our failures. Share who we went out with, who we saw, who we talked to, who we talked about. Share where we went, where we want to be, who we want to be.
We put it all out there for complete strangers to read. And these strangers slowly become a name recognized out of the comments, an acquaintance, a friend.
We invite these people into our lives, saying look at me, this is who I am. Look and see what I stand for, what I stand against, what I won’t take sitting down.
But there is a price we ask in return. We want love and adoration. We need support and comfort.
And the more we crave, the more people we invite, allow, entice with our writing, into our inner circle. And as this inner circle grows and flourishes so does our power.
We become mentors, leaders, masters of our domains.
But, so it is said, with great power comes great responsibility.
With but a few words we can whip our zombie hoards into a frenzy and unleash them on some unsuspecting target. They will do our dirty work and destroy and demolish. Those who stand in our paths will be silenced.
Except…except…what happens when it’s not mindless zombies we unleash, but emotional beings. Capable of rational thought. And what happens when these people stop, amidst the chaos they help caused, and turn to look over their shoulder at the person who directed the rampage. And what happens, when as one, they turn and bring the chaos back to our own doorstep.
As bloggers we not only need to own what we say, what we think, what we do personally, but accept the power we hold and wield. Accept ownership, accept responsibility for those people who look to us and are willing to stand up for us. Accept that we have the power to use this for good AND for evil and that the two are sometimes not so black and white, as much as shades of gray. Accept that when people do things at our behest, on our behalf, we wholly own part of the responsibility for those actions.
IF we are not willing to accept and own this responsibility, then we cannot be surprised when people turn on us in anger and disappointment at our failed leadership.
My Opinion. I Own It
UPDATE: I’ve closed comments on this post. I don’t feel anything more can be said that hasn’t already been said, and rehashing events we have no control over serves no purpose at this point.
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I spent most of the day attached to my computer and Blackberry, fielding the same question over and over and over and over. Email, DM, chat, phone calls. But I couldn’t answer it. Because it was the same one I was asking myself.
Why?
I still don’t know the answer.
It’s so hard when you want so badly to believe something and you can’t.
I am disappointed. I am hurt. I am wondering why someone who called herself my friend reached out to everyone but me, despite my attempts to reach her by email and phone.
I would have backed her up, if there was something to back up. And perhaps that is the crux of the matter. She knows me well enough to know I don’t follow blindly, friend or not. I question everything. Just part of my nature.
Why would the TSA spend that much time and effort digitally altering a video? (Those of you who think you can take video, with the quality of CCTV, magically alter it have been watching too much CSI)
If the video was somehow altered, where are the tears? The hysterics? The sobbing? Can they magically change faces to show a calm person instead?
How someone who has completely destroyed their knee and is taking Vicodin for the pain can walk without a limp, and stand with a baby on your hip and all the weight on that leg.
These are questions I need answers to before I’ll be able to change my opinion.
And this is exactly that. My opinion. I own it. And I stand by it.
It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, though. It doesn’t mean I have to like it. It doesn’t mean I don’t desperately wish there was something that could make me believe otherwise.
**If you have no idea what this post is about, trust me when I say you don’t want to. Just walk away and forget you ever read it**
Find Me
Insert Something Witty Here
I’m seeing this more and more.
The feeling of ‘I wanted to say something, but couldn’t come up with anything witty to say, so I didn’t say anything at all’.
I’m guilty of this.
I’ve typed many a tweet and blog comment and then just before hitting that post button, I’ve deleted it because I didn’t feel it added anything to the conversation.
And I find myself doing that more and more. This self-censoring.
But why do we put such pressure on ourselves? Why does everything we write have to be just perfect, better than the other persons comment, tweet, whatever ?
Honestly, I’m happy to have any blog comment. Even if it’s just one that says ‘hey I was here and I liked this post’.
I don’t ever read my comments or tweets and think ‘Wow…why did they even bother writing that?’.
To me it doesn’t matter if what someone has written is witty, smart, funny, profound.
What matters more is that they felt it was worth taking the time to comment or reply at all. And that means a lot.