I turn into a bitch for a multitude of reasons daily.
I turn into a bitch when people are late. Not like a one-time, having-an-off-day, fifteen minutes late kind of late, but the people I love most who are continually, perpetually late. I know that they don’t think twice about it. I know that it has no upfront, intentional meaning. But I can’t help but read into it, and what I end up reading is: “her time is not very valuable. It doesn’t matter if I am there on time, she will wait for me. She is dependable, but also – more importantly for serving my needs – she’s a doormat.” That’s what you’re telling people when you’re constantly late. What makes me even more a bitch is when those same people, who are always late and who know it makes you crazy, try to find ways around appearing late. They text five minutes after they were supposed to arrive saying that they’re five minutes away, but when twenty more pass you realize they must have been just leaving their home when they did so. That’s when I go from bitch to mega-bitch.
Speaking of which, I turn into a bitch when people lie to me. Even if it’s small, or inconsequential, or even if it was six months ago. People have lied to me enough. I have trust issues.
I turn into a bitch when I don’t get an apology I think I’m owed. It’s taken twenty-some years, but I’ve become really good at apologizing. When I’m in the wrong, when I overreact, or when I make a mistake or show up somewhere late – I just say I’m sorry, and I mean it. It’s the easiest thing. How did I end up surrounding myself with people who can’t seem to mush the words together and just admit they were wrong? That’s all it takes. I turn into a bitch, sure, but I become human again real quick, and the secret code word is simply “sorry.”
I turn into a bitch when people disappoint me. This might be my bitchiest. I guilt-trip and sigh and make my disappointment clear. It’s not fair, sometimes. Sometimes I have to apologize. I’m always trying to learn to expect less of people, in order to be fair to us all, but it’s hard, and sometimes I don’t live up to my own expectations, ironically enough.
I turn into a bitch when I think I’m being taken advantage of, but I can never find the courage to stand up for myself. So I let it simmer, and I let it ruin my day or week or month, and eventually, finally, it dissipates until I remember the unfairness of it a year later, failing to notice that perhaps it’s me being most unfair to myself by denying me any chance to speak my piece.
I am a bitch often, and I am good at it, though it is not good for me. Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting it to hurt the other person, or so the old adage goes, and though I repeat it to myself often, it does nothing to keep the bitch at bay.
After all this, it turns out that maybe I’m just a bitch.