So... uh... how do you recover from a blow up of that proportion?
I definitely can't ignore it, I mean, I haven't been that enraged or hurt in a very long time.
It hit all the usual hot-buttons of mine, but this time, there was religion involved. It fucking devastated me.
But then... I also don't like apologies--giving them or receiving them.
What to do?
I woke up with bruised arms, bruised legs, and a bruised ego.
My legs were sore as fuck, as were my forearms... not to mention my ass.
However, I did make peace with Mom. She once again spoke to me around noon today. We discussed bagels.
How did I win her back? I regressed to our hunter-gatherer origins and picked pistachios in the backyard (it's embarrassing to admit, but I fucking love this task. Pistachios, FRESH pistachios, are a party in my mouth, and I'd climb the sap-covered branches ANYDAY just to get those little nuggets of nutty magic). I returned to the house with sap all over my hair, twigs glued to the sap that was glued to my hair, and various scratches all over my arms and legs (guess I'm not a very good gatherer... or maybe just too adventurous/barbaric. I have a huge gash running long-ways on my wrist... as if I need to look any more suicidal to the rest of the world).
But it worked.
Best of all, there was no sentimental talk over what was screamed last night... it was just... a mutual understanding that Fuck, life stresses us all out sometimes, but the love will always be there... and yes, AnoMALIE, you're sometimes too irascible. Eat a goddamn cookie once in a while.
Bruised ego: ignored.
Bruised legs: painful and unsightly.
Bruised arms: unsightly and suspicious. People stare at me as if I were a battered woman. That shit needs to clear ASAP... but then again, that's what I get for thinking I'm motherfucking Wonder Woman yesterday.
I'll take it.
I definitely can't ignore it, I mean, I haven't been that enraged or hurt in a very long time.
It hit all the usual hot-buttons of mine, but this time, there was religion involved. It fucking devastated me.
But then... I also don't like apologies--giving them or receiving them.
What to do?
I woke up with bruised arms, bruised legs, and a bruised ego.
My legs were sore as fuck, as were my forearms... not to mention my ass.
However, I did make peace with Mom. She once again spoke to me around noon today. We discussed bagels.
How did I win her back? I regressed to our hunter-gatherer origins and picked pistachios in the backyard (it's embarrassing to admit, but I fucking love this task. Pistachios, FRESH pistachios, are a party in my mouth, and I'd climb the sap-covered branches ANYDAY just to get those little nuggets of nutty magic). I returned to the house with sap all over my hair, twigs glued to the sap that was glued to my hair, and various scratches all over my arms and legs (guess I'm not a very good gatherer... or maybe just too adventurous/barbaric. I have a huge gash running long-ways on my wrist... as if I need to look any more suicidal to the rest of the world).
But it worked.
Best of all, there was no sentimental talk over what was screamed last night... it was just... a mutual understanding that Fuck, life stresses us all out sometimes, but the love will always be there... and yes, AnoMALIE, you're sometimes too irascible. Eat a goddamn cookie once in a while.
Bruised ego: ignored.
Bruised legs: painful and unsightly.
Bruised arms: unsightly and suspicious. People stare at me as if I were a battered woman. That shit needs to clear ASAP... but then again, that's what I get for thinking I'm motherfucking Wonder Woman yesterday.
I'll take it.
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