It is now September. I am not quite over it all. I think that is okay. I also think it is entirely okay for me to share my feelings about being trashed. I think it okay that I do not have an interest in hearing the other side of the story. I am not a judge. This is not a legal matter. This is my life and my emotions and my heart that I must protect. It is my children who I also must protect. And if that means not being fair and even, well, so be it. Life isn't fair. Life isn't even.
I think it is also okay for those closest to me to make generic remarks about my nemesis being mean or jealous or whatever, without my pals knowing who the nemesis is exactly.
Yes. It is okay to raise me up by telling me that I am prettier than my worst enemy. I'd do it for anyone I loved. As petty and shallow as it is; I would do it in a heartbeat. So, there, that is my greatest truth:
I am not a saint. I am a shallow. Just like you.
What I've learned through all this, is that no one wants anyone to say anything when something is wrong. No one wants to hear the cry, "hey, hey I am uncomfortable." Because it can be really uncomfortable when someone is uncomfortable and totally uncomfortable listening to it. Everyone likes to complain about complainers. Everyone has an opinion, some helpful and some simply noisy. Many of us like to play devil's advocate and advocate for the misunderstood enemy.
And, truthfully, I think that is awesome. My worst enemies (I hate even writing that I might have enemies!) need someone to tell them that I suck and they are great.
They need a cheerleader too.
This experience and this roller coaster of being the subject of so much discussion has reminded me of what my father told me every time I came home crying from Junior High and High School about the gossip mill and social ladders:
"Tricia, sometimes people just might not like the looks of you. And well, there is nothing you can do about it. Just hold your head up high and be a Carrington. It is all you can do. Even when they slug you across the jaw."