I could go on for hours, but I feel like I should ease you into this for multiple reasons.
I hope you found some use out of my list of lists. My lists have served me well and are the main reason that I am the mediocre success that I am today. If I spent half as much energy accomplishing goals in lieu of listing them, I could probably be a lot more successful.
Therapy is unavoidable, so you might as well have fun
One of the least talked about benefits, in normal circles anyway, of having children is the ability to be able to make fun of them and humiliate them ever so gently.
You have countless opportunities over the years to embarrass them in many, many ways. Do not let this go to waste. You’re going to be paying for therapy anyway. You might as well make the most of it.
Otherwise known as a public display of affection, this act will mortify for years on end. A good way to do this is to maybe hug your husband or, if you are really feeling spicy, performing a huge make out session right in front of the school.
If you’re a single parent, as I have been often, just grab someone nearby. Sometimes, jail is worth it if you succeed in your goals. Make sure you use tongue.
Try to dance or be cool in any capacity
My kids absolutely hate it when I “dab.” They also hate it when I use their lingo. I will throw in words like fye and lit during our conversations. Especially if their friends are around. That way they know I’m trying to understand and relate to them.
My fourteen year old son loves to call me bro. Once I started beating him to it and calling him bro first, he cut it out.
The kitty game
I don’t like to remember this dark period in my life. For it is when my parents dealt an embarrassing blow so devastating that only now, many decades later, can I laugh about it.
It was the evening of my first date and the day after my sixteenth birthday. The doorbell rang as all gentlemen must come to the door to pick a lady up, according to my mother.
I thought it was odd that my stepfather didn’t want to answer the door and made me do it instead.I answered the door and escorted my date into the living room where my parents were watching television on the couch.
They were not on the couch anymore when I came in to introduce my date to them. I felt all of my blood rush to my face as I realized what they were doing to embarrass me.
Once again, I had underestimated them. They were on all fours. They were playing the kitty game.
The kitty game is much like it sounds. You crawl around and act like a cat. This includes purring, meowing, and rubbing against people’s legs. To date, I have never been more embarrassed.
Take it from me, kids don’t appreciate it when you wear their names on your shirt to celebrate them at a sporting event or even just Applebee’s. They want you to show up to their games. But they don’t want you to cheer for them, make eye contact with them, talk to their friend’s parents, or wear a shirt with their name on it.
Kids also want you to dress your age. Which means they think, at age 41, I should be wearing cat sweaters and elastic band pants. I’ve got the elastic band pants down pat so I’m holding off on the cat sweater.
Have fun with parenting. They are only young once and what doesn’t kill them, or you, will make you stronger. Within reason, of course.
Is gentle scorn or sarcasm really worse than public displays of affection? I don’t think so. Apparently, I am in the minority with this view. I would much rather roast someone than hug them. Sarcasm is how I show my love. In other words, it is my love language.
Am I proud of this? No. It’s just who I am. I am not a very demonstrative person. I get that from my mother. We hugged on holidays and when I gave birth. Because of this, I am the most awkward hugger on the planet.
I have always been the type of person to show my love with gentle scorn, or sarcasm, rather than affection or generic platitudes. You will feel my love by the heat of my sarcasm. Except for my mother, obviously. She doesn’t understand sarcasm and would beat my butt into oblivion.
The people that know me understand that about me. They love me for it. The people that don’t know me well think I’m a huge bitch. They are not wrong, but I’m not the kind of huge bitch they think I am.
A man named Gary Chapman wrote a book entitled The Five Love Languages. In the book, Gary basically says that people show their love and receive love in different ways and it’s all about finding out what you or your partner’s love language is. This book seems to help people find the way to love their partner in the ways they need and understand. You could just ask your partner what they are missing from you in the relationship and save $24.99. Just saying.
My husband is actually the sensitive one that shows his love by holding my hand and doing chores around the house. He thinks he is doing those chores for me since he’s a man and thinks deep down inside chores are a woman’s obligation. He would never say that out loud of course. However, he acts as if he is owed a parade thrown in his honor after he completes them.
Love can be felt and seen in a million different ways. From a text checking up on you to a home cooked meal, love is not always tangible and physical. It is a phone call, flowers when you’re grieving, visits when you’re sick, and tears for you when you’re hurting. I believe that the little things are worth the most. They signify a real, lasting love.
I have always told my children, as they have grown up and experienced falling in love, and then their first heartbreak, if a love starts fast like spontaneous combustion, it will die just as quickly. If a love is built slowly from a solid friendship, it will be more likely to be enduring.
If we focus less on how we receive love and more on the ways we can give it, we might not be such miserable dirtbags sometimes. Despite my snarkiness and sarcasm, I am very thankful for every little act of love and every kindness I am shown.
We can apply this principle to many areas in our lives. It’s the small actions, done consistently, that add up to cause the biggest difference made. Being a giver will always bring more back to you than being a taker will.
Love is not what you say. Love is what you do. Also, romantic love is not always the strongest kind, only the most glorified.
I have failed at being a morning person. It’s one of many things I’ve failed at. But, alas, we only have time for one today.
I have tried many times in many different ways to restructure my life. I want to be a morning person! I just can’t succeed at this one simple goal. Hell, I’ve been trying for 10 years. Now I’m old and it should just come naturally, but it doesn’t.
I have tried replacing habits. I have tried going to bed earlier. I have tried snoozing my alarm. I have tried getting up on the first alarm. I have tried an alarm clock that makes you do a math equation in order to shut the alarm off. My husband almost divorced me.
Failure is what I’m good at when it comes to mornings. It’s not just waking up that does me in. It’s dressing. It’s eating breakfast. It’s functioning in general. The main issue is just staying awake.
I do think I have narcolepsy, but my doctor won’t let me diagnose myself. He seems to disagree, although I’ve never been tested to my knowledge.
I have been an unintentional clusterfuck my whole life. Drama, tragedy, and stuff straight from a B movie will find its way to me even if I don’t leave my house. Even so, I can fix all that. Usually. Or time will fix it eventually.
My schedule is as follows. My first alarm goes off at 6:30 am. I hit snooze. I repeat this five or more times despite my intentions. At 7:05, my husband’s alarm goes off. I sit up and yell, “F**k!”
I rush around the room and trip multiple times while dressing. I run out the door 15 minutes late and make it to work five minutes late everyday without makeup. All my kids are late to school.
How do you fix a bad habit when it’s ingrained in you? This is not one of those articles where I tell you how I fixed my life at the end.
I genuinely can’t fix this about myself. Any tips or ideas would be appreciated even if I’ve probably already tried them all.
Many people, specifically my children, do not know the difference between being aggressive and being passive aggressive. So, I am here to educate the masses, but primarily them. You’re welcome. I will start with the definition of both aggressive and passive aggressive. Then, I’ll provide some examples to clarify. Or, some actionable suggestions. However you want to take it.
According to the dictionary, aggressive means ready or likely to attack or confront; characterized by or resulting from aggression.
To put it in simpler terms, I describe it as not putting up with one second of anyone’s bullshit. There is a difference, in my eyes, in being aggressive in response to a trigger versus for little to no reason. Such as the aggression causing syndrome, Little Man Syndrome. This is not a dig against anyone’s height or stature. I am talking only about Chihuahua’s and my ex-husband.
Passive Aggressive Behaviors
Again, according to the dictionary, passive aggressive means having the personality or characteristics of indirect resisting in response to the demands of others and an avoidance of direct confrontation.
In summary, Aggressive = bitch and Passive Aggressive = Little Bitch
Examples of both
One good example is when you do something extremely helpful for someone unappreciative and they don’t say thank you or show any sort of gratitude. The aggressive way to handle this is to punch them in the face or push them down while yelling, “Get some manners, Dillrod!”
The passive aggressive way to handle this is to whisper or speak very softly and say, “You’re welcome.” Even though they didn’t say thank you.
2. Another example is one my boss shows me constantly. He will get an e-mail with a request he considers to be beneath him. He will respond passive aggressively by typing, “This ain’t Christmas and I ain’t Santa Claus.” He also says this directly to people and via text.
The aggressive way to handle this same scenario would be to e-mail a violent threat over in response.
Please note: e-mails and text messages are admissible in court and as evidence.
3. Being from Georgia, a commonly used passive aggressive statement is saying, “Bless your heart.”
The aggressive version is saying, “F**k you.”
So, obviously, there are benefits to both. Pick which one you use wisely. There are also downsides to both.
I don’t have Tourette’s but I still shout things out when I’m nervous
I’m a fish out of water in a church environment. Actually, anywhere groups of strangers form. I get in a crowded situation and my mind just goes to mush. Then, my mouth opens and verbal diarrhea spills out.
If I was a real doctor, instead of just pretending to be one, I would probably diagnose me with Social Anxiety Disorder. So, obviously, I try and avoid big groups of people.
Nothing can be avoided forever. My friend’s mother passed away recently from COVID. I could not make the service because, I knew what would happen if I went, and I had to work. I didn’t want to look callous because I did care and wanted to show my support. So, I decided to go to the after service memorial, which was located at my friend’s house.
I took extra care at work to not over frazzle myself. I am out in the field a good majority of my day, which means I look like a hot sweaty mess by the time the end of the day comes. I made myself look presentable and raced as fast as I could to make it across town before the party started.
I don’t like making an entrance. I always prefer to be first so I can be the one staring at the newbies walking in. I got there, but I was not first. Or even fiftieth. People were everywhere.
I slunk behind people and entered the house. People were milling about all through the downstairs and the kitchen. I looked for my friend, her family, or anyone familiar.
I finally spotted someone I knew across the room. It was my friend Pete. I got excited to finally see a familiar face. I tried waving but he didn’t see me. He was immersed in a conversation with a grandmotherly figure. So I decided to slightly whisper his name.
“Penis!” I shouted.
You could hear a pin drop. The next few seconds were only comprised of silence, sweat, and the blood rushing to redden my face.
Obviously, I left immediately after stammering, “I meant Pete.”
The next time you do or say something mortifying, just remember me. This is the kind of social ineptitude that I am known for in my circle. But at least I can make you feel better about yourself.