“I ain’t sorry.” Except… Fine. Actually I am. I’m actually really sorry. 2

Alternate titles for this post include:

  • Self-examination can be a real bitch.
  • But I don’t waaaaaannna be a better person!
  • An open letter to a lot of people who have had it about up to *here* with me.


Sometimes I sit down to write and am relieved about finally getting everything rolling around in my brain downloaded and out of my constant thoughts. Other times I sit down to write and don’t really know what I have to say but trust that once the keys start clacking, it’ll flow. But occasionally I sit down to write and hope that I’ll feel better once I say what I have to say, but dread with every ounce of life in me what I know I need to write.

Here goes nothing…

I’m sorry. 

For those of you who have no idea why I would write that, you’re probably not friends with me on Facebook and probably haven’t tried to discuss politics with me.

–> Pause: When the election results came in, I basically didn’t get out of bed for two days because I was so upset. Not because I like really wanted Hillary to win, but because I’m genuinely afraid of what Trump will do to this country. I’m not actually looking to debate that, because this is driven mostly by gut instinct and feelings and those aren’t really debatable. Play–>

I have committed all of my least favorite sins:


  • Making broad, uninformed, inaccurate statements.
  • Lettings emotions control my word choice and therefore giving the wrong impression of what I really want to say.
  • Defending being an asshole when I should just recognize that I’m being an asshole, even it was on accident. Even if I still mean the heart of what I’m trying to say and believe that what’s at the bottom of my argument isn’t divisive or hurtful or ignorant. None of that matters if I’ve been an asshole.
  • Trying to solve all the world’s ills. Assuming I even understand all the world’s ills. This is maybe the most dangerous one- the intersection of delusion of hope and delusion of grandeur can make me a real dick.

Even as I type this I have this nagging fear that I’m saying something wrong again. And I say the following not as a disclaimer to my apology, but because in my mind a real apology comes with some sort of uncomfortable introspection as to why you slammed the door/ stole the crayons/ ate the cookies without permission/ acted like a judgmental, self-righteous prick on social media.

These past 3 weeks have been hard for me. (I’m sure you’re shocked.) They’ve been a different kind of hard that the 8 weeks before that or the 3 months before that or the 31 years before that. It’s a familiar but not in a good way kind of hard. It’s near drowning in inadequacy and fighting off crippling doubt that I’ll be revealed as a fraud because spoiler alert: I don’t feel brave or strong or any of the qualities that have been attributed to me in the aftermath of David/Romeo. I am scared every single day. I was a real bitch to him before we split and struggle with the “you deserved it/no one deserves this” debate in my head. I am angry and lonely. I am one Lifetime movie away from full on bitter. I am completely wingin’ it and charging onward with life because it’s literally the only option I have. Plain and simple.

And everything your mom told you about the loudmouthed kid on the playground being the one who really just is trying to convince themselves that they’re enough? Well, it’s true. And it’s been me. I have this unavoidable, overcompensating big ass mouth that always seems to pop up and pop off when I feel aaaaaaalll of the feelings and they are cranked aaaaaaalll the way up.

Two days ago I read my November horoscope and it told me that for this month I should really be cautious about thinking before speaking. THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN USEFUL INFORMATION 25 DAYS AGO.

But real talk: I’m trying to be better. And I’ve been trying to be better at a lot of areas that I’ve been juggling, but this one slipped. I’m sorry.

Now I need to go drink like 32 beers because while I’m trying to rise above, I’m still a stubborn Sagittarius at heart, and damn a public apology is a hard pill to swallow.


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