Sticks and stones ....

Someone didn’t like the Full Femme Flirt post. I got several comments saying I was psycho, I was a creep, I wasn’t that great, etc. I mean. I think they all came from the same person, or from friends of the person. The IP addresses were different for a couple of them but I think it’s interesting that all of the ugly comments happened within a day of one another. Or maybe 3 or 4 different people do all think I’m a psycho creep who is full of herself. *shrugs* It’s entirely possible. (If it is who I think it is, by the way, we went to high school together. 27 years ago.)

Let me tell you something, pumpkins. I have been called all kinds of names in my life, so really? A conceited creep, psycho and stuck-up aren’t terribly bad. I’ve been called slut, whore, baby-killer, stupid, bitch, white bitch, squaw (which, for the record, you shouldn’t call an Indian. It’s vulgar.), wannabe, n***er-lover, trailer trash, white trash, worthless, all manner of names that indicated that I was white (or at least white-looking) in a neighborhood where that was an anomaly, all manner of names that are meant to be nasty because I’m a lesbian and the list goes on.

Even at a very young age, I knew better than to take those things on as mine. I’m none of those things. Well … *some* of them I am. I’m a bitch and arguably a slut/whore, depending on your definition of those things. I did grow up in a place where everyone was black, Hispanic or us. I did live in a trailer park for my last two years of high school. We were poor. My sister often says we come from a long line of proud white trash. Or, as I say, moonshine-runnin’ rednecks. I have loved people who were African-American. I did have an abortion. I am a lesbian.

Okay, so actually I am all of those things except a wannabe, stupid and worthless. I’ll brag a little since my detractor already thinks I’m a conceited creep: I have a IQ of 134. One thing I am not is stupid. I do have a learning disability, but no one knew that when I was in school. I was one of the Smart Kids. Anyway.

Even at a very young age I knew that when someone calls you a name, it says more about them than it does about you. I can’t make what someone else thinks about me part of my self-identity. If someone I know, love and respect told me something about myself, I’d listen. I’d examine it and see if it was accurate and something I could change. If it was and I could, I’d change. Someone who isn’t brave enough to sign her real name and use her real email address is not going to change my sense of self.

I wasn’t bully-able in high school (or younger) and I’m certainly not now. If a person doesn’t like my blog, my suggestion is that she or he not read it. I know this person is trying to bully me because she commented that she didn’t care if her nastiness was published, only that I read it. She said that I should NOT like myself – because I’m really not that great. Miss Thing actually told me that self-love is not attractive.

I’m so sad for my former friend, that she thinks loving yourself isn’t attractive. I wish she knew that is so is. Knowing who you are, being okay with it, loving yourself is good. It’s healthy. It’s what I hope for the young people in my life.

As I said in the Full Femme Flirt post, I’m not perfect. (Well, I said I wasn’t beautiful, but I can extrapolate that for this post to not being perfect.) I am aware of my flaws, of what I need to do better, of what I want to change. I am always aware of things that are just always going to be the way they are, no matter what I do. I love myself anyway.

I embrace those things I cannot change because they are a part of me and there’s nothing I can do about them. I can’t change who my family is (and I wouldn’t want to.) I can’t change my past. I could hide those things I don’t like, I could decide they are shameful. If I did that, though, I’d be giving people like my former friend far too much power. Then I’d have to be worried that someone might find out. I can’t worry about someone finding out things that I readily tell people.

What I wish everyone knew is that the only one who gets to decide who you are is YOU. All anyone else can do is give you their opinion. YOU assign the value to it. YOU decide if you take on that negative value and make it part of who you are.

I choose not to.

[And apparently, I choose to end a sentence in a preposition but I can’t seem to write that sentence and make it sound right without the sentence-ending preposition. (And, no, LL, I could NOT just leave it alone.)]

For all of you, my hope is that you have a well-established self-esteem and that you don’t allow anyone to rattle that because they feel hateful or because they don’t like something that you do. Or they don’t like that you’re opinionated and tell them to kiss your ass because they wrote something snotty on your Facebook wall. (As I suspect is truly the case in this particular instance.)

How do you handle bullies?