Nancy
I am a Heartless Bitch... because you say I am. Isn't that what we're
taught to believe? If you say I'm mean, then I must be. If you say I'm
fat, dumb, or crazy then you must be right because I believe that you
are smarter than me, wiser than me, and in control of me. So that must
make you right. Right? This is the philosophy to which so many have
subscribed, and those same people surrounded me all my life, serving as
my role models, God forbid.
For years, I allowed them to use their definitive parameters to tell me
how wrong I was to be me. I scared them because they couldn't understand
something they couldn't control, so they sought to beat me with the
subjective rules by which they lived. Rules that didn't work for them,
but were supposed to miraculously work for me. They spent their lives in
a box, worshipped the rules and roles with which the truly dysfunctional
define themselves, and then loftily foisted their religion on all who
posed a threat to their diffidence. My mother did it, some of my best
friends did it, and even my husband and children begged me to buy in to
their skewed misconceptions of a "good woman." When I was no longer
willing to pay the asking price, I was deemed a bitch.
Wearing the title of bitch is a small, albeit better part of how I've
chosen to present, protect, and honor myself. I've never defined myself
as anything other than me. I am a fighter and I am strong. I used those
assets to claw my way out of a life that threatened to squash me. When
all the people that I loved turned against me for my choices, I never
looked back or regretted my decisions. I knew I was right and my
happiness is proof. My ex-husband was an abusive, child molesting,
misogynistic miscreant. I stayed with him for thirty years out of sheer
stupidity and because I wanted to be a "good woman." But somehow in that
mind numbing, soul stealing point-in-time I took personal inventory and
realized that I was severely lacking--by my own standards (the only ones
that count). I worked like hell to get smart and healthy, and finally,
even after all those horrible years of brainwashing, I realized that the
world was wrong, and I was right, and started living by my own beliefs.
Oddly enough, when I presented myself as who I really was, I was deemed
the bad guy, the bitch. I was finally brave enough to get my life
together and now I was being called a bitch. It has never made any sense
to me, but if that's how they want to define emotional stability and
strength of character, so be it.
I've worked like a fiend to become what you and others define as a
Heartless Bitch. I simply see myself as ruthlessly honest and as a
person who lacks the capacity to tolerate any type of abuse or
manipulation, be it administered by man, woman, child, or even myself. I
don't listen to the ramblings of the stupid or controlling, which seem
to go hand in hand. They were wrong in the first place. Why should I
give them a chance to prove that their mediocre mental capacity and
inane lifestyle hold any weight? It didn't, it doesn't, and it never
will.
You can define strength of character as Heartless Bitch if you like.
Perhaps that is the best definition currently afforded by contemporary
society to adequately describe a smart, strong woman. I don't scare
easily, I don't back down from confrontation, and I don't tolerate
stupidity or cruelty. I worked too hard to free myself from such ugly
trappings.
So, if it makes you comfortable to define me by your standards, you can
call me a Heartless Bitch. As far as I'm concerned, it's a damn sight
better than being a stupid one. A rose by any other name... oh well, you
know.
Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches
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