Sunday, May 2, 2010

Kick-Ass and My Week Being Bullied

So when did I become your doormat, huh? No, seriously, at what point in this godforsaken week did you decide, "Geez, Fiona's just been coasting along for awhile; time for me to give 'er the ol' 1-2"? Seriously.

Although I thought it started last Monday (I mean who isn't waiting for an ass-kickin' on a Monday), if I'm really truly honest with myself, it started last Friday. Last Friday. My big trip to the big smoke being a big girl business woman. Big time. I should have known then. Many things were great about that big girl business trip. Fancy shmancy hotel. Two meetings at major-ish bookstores. A good friend for company.

Wait, we were talking about Monday. Right. Well, as not to bore you completely or well, bore you completely, the short of it is: I've spent the past year trying to organize, coordinate, and plan a birthday slash family reunion bash in Mexico for 35 of my multi-aged, multi-interest, highly-dysfunctional extended family members. On Monday, one of those extended (too far, in my opinion, like an LOC) fm's decided to bail out of the plan and take 9 fm's with her, sending my plans and hotel discounts down the toilet.

I emailed. I facebooked. But what about all my plans? What about everyone else? She tried to make me feel bad. It worked. I did. Terribly. For three days. But why?

Oh yeah, last Friday. But wait, I haven't told you about Tuesday yet.

Now, technically, Tuesday was indirect bullying. Bully by proxy if you wish. Nonetheless, I came home to a defeated husband whose Mum had successfully sucked the wind from his sails. She must have used the full force of the past to reduce him to rubble. However horrible he felt, I'm certain I felt even worse. It was as if she had stabbed her forefinger in my chest over and over and...

What day are we on? Shit. Let me cut to the chase.

Last night, I took my teenager to see Kick Ass. I LOVED it. I loved the kids, the costumes, Nicolas Cage, the totally-warped-yet-somehow-true moral of the story. I loved the sweet beginning of empathy and compassion for humanity. The willingness to put your life on the line for what is right. I loved the dawning of reality and pragmatism and still the willingness.

My teenager had tried to turn his responsibilities and his anger around not having met them on me one hour before we sat in that movie theatre. Last Friday, a manipulating bookstore buyer tried to convince me to give him my books for free. That same night, a dear friend implied I was responsible for my husband's lack of eye contact and disengagement with her and that it was an unacceptable situation for her. This morning, while I watched my 5-year old in swimming lessons, a man called me disgusting and swore at me because I was wearing my running shoes approximately 2 inches from the change room doorstep. He yelled something about imaginary dog shit. I cried. Three grown men stood to my left, in their shoes, not speaking.

So I guess it's not my week. For those who know me, I know that you know that I know there are many people out there with far larger, more painful struggles than those in my week of being bullied. And lord knows, I'm far from perfect; I sometimes yell at my kids and am mean to my husband and drink too much wine. But I know injustice, and as soon as I can whip up my costume, I'll knock you out of the bullying game.

Rock it Joan:
Joan Jett - Bad Reputation .mp3
Found at bee mp3 search engine

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