I feel like this should be obvious, but let’s do it anyway.

Last night I received a message from one of my followers expressing concern/distaste for my use of words such as cunt and bitch, which she perceives as being offensive and sexist. (**I get that she’s coming from a good place. She wasn’t nasty about it.  I have no hard feelings against her. I respect her opinion).  I decided I wanted to address this here (instead of privately) because I think it’s important that this concept be understood by anyone who chooses to read this blog. So here we go:

I’m 35 years old. I’m a grown ass woman. I have lived through abuse and neglect. I pulled myself up out of the pits of hell and put myself through college. I graduated from law school and passed the bar. I’ve created a successful law firm from six thousand dollars and raw determination. I’ve been married and divorced. I have a kid. I’ve survived Stage IIb breast cancer. These life experiences have shaped me into the person I am today.  That person doesn’t suffer fools gladly.  She speaks her mind.  She doesn’t tolerate bullshit.  She is passionate and sometimes she rants in her blog because it’s better than starting a bunch of drama by actually saying it aloud (a lesson I learned the hard way). I use profanity. I use it often. If you don’t like it, then you can choose not to read this blog. I keep it real here, and this is me. I’m not all kittens & rainbows. I don’t pretend to be.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.  You may believe that terms like cunt and bitch are sexist terms. You may feel like a real feminist wouldn’t use such terms.  My opinion is that feminists should get good with women making choices we ourselves wouldn’t necessarily make, because we are just happy that women are able to make those choices.

This blog is all about me. What I do. What I like. What I don’t like, and sometimes who I don’t like. I write it for me, and only for me. I don’t care about hearts or even if anyone ever reads any of it. I sit here now with almost 300 registered followers, and while I do enjoy the relationships I’ve made here, that isn’t why I blog.  So if you don’t like it, do me a favor and unfollow me. Please don’t send me a message to tell me about how you are disappointed with my choices. I don’t care.

You know why? Because I’m a fucking bitch.  And I’m good with that.

keeping it real

I’ve noticed I’ve been censoring myself a bit lately. It’s because I have no idea who reads this blog. I mostly don’t care, as I’m a bit of an open book. Always have been. I guess I just worry about potentially hurting someone’s feelings. That said, I’ve got something I feel like writing about, and I’m just going to go for it. Blogging is a big form of stress relief for me, and I’m not giving that up for anyone.

Since my brother’s death, I’ve been trying to get some of my family relationships back on track. I have posted about that here. Unfortunately, I am struggling.  The root of the struggle is that I moved on from all of this family drama a long time ago.  My childhood fucking sucked for a variety of reasons: alcoholic & drug addicted parents, abuse, neglect, constant lies, no money, stealing, broken promises…the list goes on and on.  I always felt like a complete outcast because when I made it clear I wanted more from life than that, I was faced with scorn and ridicule. When it was time to go to college, I escaped, and I didn’t look back.

It’s weird to feel like the black sheep of the family because you aren’t a loser, but that’s exactly how I have always felt.  It was really hard for me to overcome all of that shit, but I did.  Many years of therapy saw to that.  I went out into the world and made a nice life for myself.  I created my own family.  I moved on.  I got over it. It was incredibly freeing to let go of all that anger and toxicity, and I’m never going back to that.

So it’s difficult now to get into this “we are one big happy family” thing. No matter how hard I try, I’m just not feeling it.  I’m not holding a grudge. I don’t hate anybody. I just don’t feel like pretending we have anything in common besides some bloodlines and a very fucked up history.

I feel like even more of a dick because this doesn’t apply to every family member. Just a few.  For example, I adore one of my sisters, but cannot tolerate the other. But am I really a dick because I don’t want to waste my time on a heroin addict who just wants to use me for money? Am I really a bad person because I don’t want my kid around ex-convicts, thieves, alcoholics, and drug addicts?

Fuck no. No. No. No. No. No.

Just because I love you, doesn’t mean I like you, and just because we are family doesn’t mean I have to deal with you.  If you aren’t willing to change for me, why should I change for you?