I’ve recently been told that I am too open; that I should be careful with what I tell people and what pictures of myself that I post online. I’ve been told by both my husband and ex that I’m too nice; I’m too kind; I’m too giving. I’ve been told that I’m too harsh. I’ve been told that I’m too sensitive. I’ve been told that I’m a colossal bitch.

I’m always “too” something. I’m sure the people who told me these things thought they had my best intentions at heart, but honestly, I don’t think they truly did. I think they were more threatened by the listed “flaws” because it’s what they do not have.

Yes, I am an open person - especially now - and I honestly don’t see a problem with that. If you ask me a question, I will answer it. There’s only 3 things I won’t tell you and that’s my social security number, my bank account number and my mother’s maiden name - and the first two are simply because I don’t do numbers well and don’t have them memorized. The pictures I post online? What about them? It’s my face on a dating app. How are people going to recognize me when we meet? We both wear white roses? That’s cliche and kind of dumb. Are you talking about the nudies sent to husbands and boyfriends? What’s wrong with that? I’m not running for political office - which, sending nudes to an SO shouldn’t be a bad thing for election campaigns - and it usually cheers them up from a shitty day. Do I care if they show everyone? No, its my body, not my heart or soul. Are you worried about recognition and safety? Like, someone would recognize my face in a crowd at Walmart and decide to do nefarious things to me - is that what you’re worried about? Really? I’ve spent 47 years on this planet and the only person to do something to me without my consent was a handsy uncle - do you really think I’m worried I might get raped by a complete stranger? I know I’m going to catch flack for this, but I’m going to say it anyway: You can’t rape the willing. I like sex. If someone held a gun to my face and wanted to force themselves on me, I would take all the fun away and probably start talking dirty to them while pawing at their pants to get to the goods. I’m not stupid - I don’t go down dark alleys or “shady” sides of town - and I trust my intuition when it comes to my safety. I spent 45 years being cautious of everyone and everything. I’m tired of doing it. If I’m open with who I am, then that’s less time spent yakking about myself and more time getting to know them. If I’m open with what I think, then that’s less time spent wondering what I meant by what I said - cuz God knows I’ll explain it a thousand times over. I talk most things to death. If I’m open with people, then they know who they’re dealing with - and what they are getting themselves into - and there’s less chance for misunderstandings.

So, for those of you who think I’m too open - bite me.

I’m “too nice,” “too kind,” “too giving” for several reasons. Number one, I’m kind, not nice. “Nice” means I did you a favor, now you do me one - I was nice moving a tenant down here. I expect to be paid back in cash or in favors. “Kind” is when you do that with no expectation of someone returning the gesture, or doing anything to repay your kindness - I was kind when I paid for a stranger to get her tire changed at Walmart so she could get home for Christmas. I didn’t know her name, she didn’t know my address, so there was no way she could pay me back. I will say I am more kind than I am nice because I was raised with the notion of “make them owe you” which, having that mindset led to much disappointment in my young life because rarely was I ever repaid for my good deed - even by my own family. So, when I do something you would consider nice, please know that I have absolutely no expectation of you owing me anything unless it was something we agreed upon in advance of the act. I’m “too kind” primarily because this world is severely lacking kindness and instead of complaining about it, I guess my soul decided to do something about it. Kinda the whole “Pay it Forward” mentality. Well, the world hasn’t gotten kinder, but I’ve been blessed with so many acts of kindness - all of which I certainly don’t deserve - that I’m going to continue doing it. Maybe one day, the world will become more kind. Secondly, I’m “too giving” for a couple of reasons; the primary one has more to do with self-preservation than altruism. I give as much as I can for the simple fact that if something were to happen to a person, and I could have prevented it, I would never forgive myself. So, I will do everything I can, for as long as I can, to help someone - most times to the detriment of my own mental health - but living with guilt is far worse. I continue to do this until I can no longer help them because they are just taking advantage of me. I know this, I see this, and I walk away. Unless you are family. Then I basically have a mental breakdown, give you one last chance to pull your ass up out of the hole you found yourself in and if you don’t, I walk away leaving you swinging by the rope you just hung yourself with. I do this so I can live with my conscious, not because I’m a “giving” person. Oddly enough, the ones who have said that to me were, and are, the recipients of my giving nature - yet, they both complained about it as if it were a flaw.

Well, if my kindness and giving nature are flaws, then they are flaws I don’t want to change in myself. Both are intertwined, both are necessary for my spiritual and emotional well-being. If you don’t like them, feel free to keep walking - neither one of those “flaws” are ever going to change, so eat a bag of dicks.

I’m too “harsh”… I am generally a laid back person. However, there are two things I have a hard time swallowing: stupidity and hypocrisy. Y’all see why I despise the American government and religion, now doncha? Hypocrisy is something I have lived with for 45 years of my life and I cannot abide by it - I WILL call you out on it, and I won’t be nice about it. It was a MAJOR source of contention between my father and I, then between my late husband and I. The whole, “do as I say, but not as I do” thing - yeah… Right now, remembering things is making my blood boil. I don’t ask anything of anyone that I myself am not willing to do, and if I see that I am, I correct my actions and apologize - my apologies are never just words; I actually become more mindful of my actions so that I don’t do it again. And nine times out of ten, I don’t. But when I’m confronted with someone else’s hypocrisy, I become exceedingly harsh and usually combative. My late husband faced that whenever he complained about how much time my son was on the computer. My husband was rarely off of his computer - the only time he wasn’t playing his video games was when he worked his job or I whined about spending time with him. Again, not what he wanted to hear.

Stupidity gets a harshness because stupid is you didn’t think about it, or you knew better, but didn’t care. For instance, me climbing a tree at 47 years old. Did I honestly think I wasn’t going to pull something? I didn’t think about it, nor did I care. I fucked around and found out - I wrenched my shoulder. Usually, if it’s something stupid that was done, and it’s something I had done myself in the past, a person usually gets a pass or a chuckled, “Dumbass.” How could I give someone the business if I did the same thing at their age? Usually the harshness is saved for political and religious tripe that most people don’t stop to think about before they engage their mouths. That’s when I get kind of shitty.

I can’t say I’ll change that flaw, but I know it’s been curbed greatly. I’ve learned that Forrest Gump’s momma was right - Stupid is as stupid does. I’ve accepted that stupidity is a part of the human experience and only give grief when someone asks if they were being stupid. Then all bets are off and it’s open season ;)

My being too sensitive…well, yeah. Duh. I’ve always been an emotional person. I’ve always felt things deeply. Words hurt me just as bad as actions do, except actions leave bad ass scars. Words leave festering wounds. The thing is, because I’m sensitive, I can usually read your mood before you even know what you’re feeling. I know when people are annoyed with me; I know when people are angry with me; I know when someone is fixin’ to pop me in the face. These are things I learned as survival techniques - its a by-product of growing up around domestic violence. You learn to read a person really quick to know if they’re safe or not. My “sensitivity” has also played more in my ability to trust situations and people more than anything else (except Buddy - if he barks excitedly at you, he likes you and that means you are a good person and worthy of me at least giving you a chance). Being sensitive isn’t a flaw - it’s a gift; and one I don’t intend on squandering.

If you think I’m too sensitive, then find a glory hole in a cactus and fuck it, cuz I ain’t changing that one.

The “bitch” usually happens when I not only draw the line in the sand, I fucking carve it in the concrete below and it gets violated. It’s told to me when I feel the boundaries I’ve set have been violated by a person. For example, a significant other letting me know where they are at when they aren’t home at the time I was expecting them to arrive or be. It has nothing to do with “keeping tabs” on them - they are full grown adults and can come and go as they please. Its so I don’t worry about them and it causes emotional stress (being a worrier is a flaw I would like to fix in myself because worry denotes a lack of faith); should I make enough dinner for them, or should I just make enough for me and worry about them being angry with me because I didn’t make any for them; or, should I lock the door when I go to bed hoping they remembered their house key, or leave it unlocked and sleep with one eye open in case someone other than them walks in (that’s happened before and scared the fuck out of me). When I brought this up to my husband, I was accused of acting like a bitch - I was being controlling and clingy. No, I explained to him why the boundary was there - besides, its just common decency to let your spouse know if you’re coming home or not; especially when you demand she do the same thing. That wasn’t the thing he wanted to hear, apparently. When I had my stroke, the bitch was locked up; for which I’m sure most people were grateful for, especially my late husband. Except…I wasn’t the same person. In situations I would have lost my shit in, I didn’t - he never realized I was looking at the situation from an objective viewpoint and from that vantage point, I could see how BOTH my husband and son were wrong and I calmly pointed it out to them. Oh, I still expounded on my opinions - but only on topics I was passionate about. My late husband wasn’t really crazy about me after the stroke because I “was not the strong, independent woman I married.” My father wasn’t all that crazy about me either because I would call him out on his bullshit - he had a plethora of narcissistic tendencies and I would point them out to him (mainly because I saw the same traits in myself pre-stroke and didn’t want my dad to go through what I went through). So, as to the “bitch” I am damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I think I’m gonna say she’s a flaw that I should only use when it’s necessary to show the individual that they are about 30 seconds from a beat down by a crazy woman.

So, if you think I’m a bitch, also know “I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother; I’m a sinner, I’m a saint; I do not feel ashamed.” - Meredith Brooks. Best song EVER.