Yes. I am a bitch.
I admit it.
I love saying the word, “No.”
I hate the word, “Maybe.”
“Yes” is barely in my vocabulary, unless it’s having to do with food, friends, or food.
I hate being in situations that make me uncomfortable, so I don’t put myself in them.
I love being right, which is why I make it my goal to be as educated as possible.
I have no problem calling people out on certain things.
I think I’m kinda cute.
I’m very apathetic towards others’ self inflicted circumstances (I’m looking at you, the people who say they hate drama but drama follows them everywhere. OR those people who rant about the friend-zone [you know who you are].)
I’m very selfish in the sense that I will openly think about myself first, others second, and my rightful actions third.
I’m not a risk taker because being risky isn’t in my personality.
I can come off as overly confident; cocky even.
I refuse to be guilted into anything I absolutely don’t want to do.
I take zero shit.
Brutal honesty is my favorite policy.
I tell people to be quiet when they are interrupting my shows, BUT if they need to talk, I will pause that shit because I’m also a good friend and super nosy.
I love gossip, BUT I will never spread it, and if I do, I’m sorry. You told me. You should’ve known better. You have got to preface that shit.
I will often tell people I need to be alone, when all I really want to do is lie on the couch and watch my recordings.
I am hardheaded; I am stubborn; I am a firm believer in feminism. I want nothing more than to be the best bitch I can be because that’s who I am. I have found my happy center in being a bitch and that’s what I’m happy to be. I can care about what I want to care about. No one can tell me otherwise. I can also not care about anything, and that’s fine too.
I did not start out this way though. I became a bitch through living a life where people have used, influenced, and jaded me. I used to be the most awkward girl in the world. Never really quite fitting in anywhere and was always good at everything, but never excelling in anything. I took everyone else’s opinions to heart and never followed my own. I would feel guilty if I disappointed someone, and would do everything in my power to work things out. I would wear myself thin because I couldn’t handle people not approving of me. I couldn’t even think about being rejected. I couldn’t stand being a failure.
As time moved on, these standards that I had set for myself became tiring, and when I couldn’t meet them, I crashed. I suffered from severe depression, I started getting anxiety attacks, I couldn’t bring myself to even get out of bed. All I could do was take my medication and eat. Eating was my everything. I couldn’t disappoint food. Food didn’t judge me. It was the best one sided relationship I’ve ever had, and it’s still going on. It just seemed like my whole bubble of assumed perfection was about to burst and I wasn’t ready; but that’s the thing. You are never ready for something you don’t want to experience; and when that bubble burst, I was devastated. I felt like I had nothing and this whole delicate bubble that I had spent my whole life tending to was completely gone. It was traumatizing. I had nothing to fall back on, not even myself.
It wasn’t until I realized that I had one thing left. I had myself. I had never gotten to know myself before then because I never had the chance. I was too busy doing everything else for everyone else anywhere else, that I forgot about myself (that shit is deep. Once you’ve hit rock bottom, you know what I mean). So, I made an attempt and started to learn about me. I went through this period where I said, “FUCK YOU WORLD!” and dedicated my time to understanding me and me alone. I started to learn so much that I knew I could NEVER re-blow the bubble I had before. It took me a long time before I could accept that, but when I did, I was much better for it. I might have been more selfish, more nosy, more knowledge-seeking, more experienced, and more apathetic, but I didn’t care. I was me. I was a bitch. That bubble disappeared and I appeared in its place.
This is something that they don’t teach you growing up. They say it gets better, but they don’t say how. They don’t tell you what to do in order for it to be better. They don’t teach you how to handle things in case they don’t get better. They don’t tell you to focus on yourself and find yourself in order to get better. You just have to bullshit your way through it all until your bubble bursts and then find some way to build yourself back up. Some people have various support systems available, but all of the hard, legitimate work falls on the individual. The learning falls on you. The acceptance, yes, the acceptance, falls on you. And when you learn to accept yourself (or not accept you, I’m not one to judge) and this life that you have been given to live, you can set yourself on the truest path of life.
Now, that being said, just because I’m a bitch doesn’t mean that I’m an asshole. I don’t do harm to others. I don’t wish harm to others. I don’t judge others, unless they themselves are assholes. And, I’m not heartless. I feel empathy for the downtrodden and I try to be as generous as possible. In fact, my husband is the more generous one. I sort of look up to him. I try to follow in his footsteps because I know that I want to reach that level of generosity one day. That’s me, still working on myself. It’s still a learning process.
I always have these negative thoughts in the back of my mind, telling me I’m not doing enough, or I’m not worth it, or I’m not smart enough, or I’ll never be successful. These thoughts never go away. These are my own personal doubts that I have to quieten almost everyday in order to not hit the bottom again. This is my reality. I had to experience this myself. No one could teach me this, and in experiencing the bursting of my bubble, the ultimate rebuilding and getting to know myself, and the constant doubts, I am proud to say, “I’m a bitch.”
If I wasn’t, I don’t know who I’d be; but I wouldn’t be me.