It has come to my attention that some people “one person” finds it insensitive that I write about my wicked “crazy” stepmother on this blog. And when I got this notice, I got pissed. So pissed I kicked my car and probably put a dent into it. Until I realized that it doesn’t matter who is offended at my writing because it is my writing that has…and always will get me through things in life. It is a way to express my emotions in a healthy way. And I have them: sad, happy, pissed, elated, annoyed, excited. You name it, I have them. And if what I write can help even one person a day, then it’s worth it. If I can make someone laugh or cry or feel or think. Worth it.
However, people telling me what to do is a major trigger but people telling me how to feel and what to write, sets that trigger off something fierce.
And if you don’t like what I write, that’s fine and I respect that but DO NOT…ever…and I mean EVER text or IM or call or email me and tell me not to write something because it offends you. That will be the end of any relationship you may have with me if you even have one to begin with. That is not up to you. You deal with things your way. I will deal with things mine. And like I said the saying in our house now is, “I’m in therapy. What are you doing?” And if you want to control what I write, please take a look at this amendment:
Freedom of speech is the right to communicate one’s opinions and ideas without fear of government retaliation or censorship. The term freedom of expression is sometimes used synonymously, but includes any act of seeking, receiving and imparting information or ideas, regardless of the medium used. (even if it is about your crazy relatives – I think that should be added to this)
Now on to today’s saga.
Me: What is going on?
D: Blah, blah blah,…….crazy, crazy crazy
Me: Blah, blah, blah, she is crazy, crazy, crazy
25 minutes later
Me: It would be easier to pull the plug except there isn’t one to pull since she is fine
D: Too bad we don’t live in Oregon