Last night, I shared something I wrote yesterday, literally just minutes after I publicly did something to horribly embarrass myself and which left me feeling like a worthless waste of human space.
Now, before I go on, I should tell you that I finally slept, and I slept deep, and I slept long. I had very strange dreams, too. My brain took me on all sorts of adventures from innocently popping a pimple on my arm that would not stop spraying ick (seriously, like, firehose-style in my dream) to a dream where I was sitting alone in a hot tub, trying to relax, when suddenly a bus full of children stopped and they all started hanging out of the windows, shooting their nerf guns at me. Hahaha. Someone try and translate those two dreams.
But, yes. I did sleep. And I awoke still sleep-deprived but finally feeling like a much more intact human.
I went to check out all of your comments this morning, wondering if anyone had read last night’s post at all, kind of hoping few people did. To my dismay, nearly a quarter million people had already seen it. Shoot. Well, I guess there was no taking that one back. But… wait. What? Most of you were… kind? And loving, and understanding, and sweet, and sincere? Even when I shared the worst side of this pile of human goo that is me? Gosh. I love you all.
But then I headed over to my email. You know, that place I try not to venture too often because it is the place most people send their more brutal correspondences so that they don’t get ripped apart (by my loyal peeps) in the comments for being jerkoffoviches? Sure enough. There were a few of them. Three different people took the time to write me and tell me that I just write those things for attention and traffic. One person wrote to tell me that I was exactly like her ex-husband and that I wasn’t going to sell her “some fancy-wrapped package of shit like that.” No, really. That’s a direct quote.
But then one person… A far kinder person, sent me this. And I thought it was a valid question.
My answer to this reader is simple-ish.
You are right. That moment was less than ideal. Thank you for using such nice words to describe it. You would have also been accurate to call my moment “hugely ass-hatted,” or “majorly monstrous,” or “ridiculously dastardly.” You also could have used other words in place of “moment” such as “meltdown,” “man-tantrum,” or “complete loss of all sanity.” Thank you for not. You’re helping me feel like I’m just human and that I just had a small and difficult human moment, nothing more.