The photo above is of me and sissy, one of the characters in this story.

Disclaimer:

1. I write this to show you that since my last unfortunate interaction, I have progressed as a human.

2. Some might find the language in this offensive.  I am thinking of you good Christian folk.  I too, am good Christian folk.  I just happen to cuss a little.  I am admittedly 50/50 on whether to share this story for your sake, as I am a little self righteous and like to appear as one without a potty mouth.  But that would be a lie.  I have a slight potty mouth. I am actually okay with this.  Jesus and I have regular conversation about my mouth.  He’s got it, so no need judge.
3. Sometimes, a well placed cuss word is the most effective method to getting the point across.
4. Sorry, mom.

In recent years, I went to a family event.  It was the side of the family and friends of family that I had almost completely lost touch with for nearly 20 years.  The ‘Allison’ they would have remembered was unpredictable, ‘problematic rehab Allison.’  There, to my knowledge, was zero understanding, compassion, or care towards me from a small, certain few.  I was very aware of this entering into the scenario.  Isn’t it ridiculous that only a FEW people’s opinions can sometimes dominate an otherwise beautiful moment?  No? Just me?  Great.

Never-the-less, I was nervous.  Thought swirling in my head.  I wasn’t that girl anymore.  Also, I was never that girl.  I had trauma.  The eating disorder and other wild behaviors were just a symptom of that.  Why was that so hard to understand?!  The days leading up to the event through to the journey to the event, I was chewing on these thoughts like a piece of steak fat.  i couldn’t gather myself.  What was worse, I didn’t have my fall guy with me (Mike).  He was home with the kids.  (Not many people brave babysitting 4 kids).  I will say this about Mike, he may be British, well spoken and polite, but if someone poses any threat to his wife or kids, he morphs into Hulk and well, you just ought to run.  But, I did not have hulk with me.  I had my sister.  Now, she is a force in her own right.  She may look gorgeous like Barbie, but she is on my top 5 of people that I would NOT get into a bar fight with.  My strategy for the weekend was to keep her with me AT ALL TIMES.  This worked.  Until, I realized that this was fallible.  What if she got caught in conversation, or went to the food line, bar, photo-op, dance-floor, raptured, abducted by the bad guys in Mission Impossible, fell into a rabbit hole or went to the bathroom without me?

I woke up the morning of the day, well, panicked.  I didn’t know how to ground myself.  Exercise: didn’t work. Prayer: nope. Coffee: made it worse. Listen to music: nope, nope and nope.  I texted my cousin.  If ever I need something clarifying, I texted her S.O.S.  She too is on my top 5 list of people I would not get into a bar fight with.  She is an O.G.  Phone rings.  It’s her.

Cousin:  ‘What’s going on.’

She knew that I needed to hear her voice, not just a text exchange.  There’s something about her tone which clears fog.

Me:  ‘I’m shitting myself.  I can’t get it together.  What is wrong with me?’

Cousin: ‘You are a grown-ass woman. You are there for one reason, and one reason only.  To support your family.  Do that and come home.’

Me: ‘But I am scared.  What if someone says something mean to me?’

I was literally acting like scared school kid anticipating the mean girls on the play ground.

Cousin: She says in an escalated manner, ‘Allison, if anyone has the nerve to say anything unkind to you, then they are SHIT BAGS.  Get dressed, have fun, and just go be yourself.  You’re good.’

I told you she has a way of clearing the fog.

Me:  ‘Okay.’

I hang up.

Hours went by, we killed time, and lo, it was time to get dressed.  I did.

Sissy and I hopped in to the car and to the festivities we went.  It was beautiful.  Happy tears.  I got to see old faces that I had lovely fond memories with.  No one was mean to me.  It was all good.   All of the people I was scared of in my head were fine with me, or avoided me.  Either way, all good.

Until I encountered a person who to me, was a complete stranger.  Let me be clear,  I did not and do not know this person.

It was clear though, that this stranger knew a version me, or at least HEARD of me.  No idea in what context whether old or recent, and I didn’t give it the air time to figure it out.  This is what happened.

I am walking through the dining area, heading towards my table with my gin and tonic in hand, and this person cuts me off and says,

‘Hello, problem.’

I’m confused. Did that guy just call me a problem? Who is this person?

Me: ’What?’

Stranger: ’You are your parents problem, their nightmare, right?’

Did. He. Just. Say. That?!

Yes, this fool, just did.

This, was an unexpected encounter.  Don’t know this person, don’t have any history with this person.  Mike wasn’t there, sissy wasn’t there.  BUT, If cousin were there, I KNEW what SHE would say.  I had a choice to make.  Internalize this, or not.  Laugh awkwardly, and walk off.  Or be the redneck woman that Gretchen Wilson sings about and own this moment. Gretchen won.

I sipped my drink, put my hand on this person’s shoulder, laughed ever so lightly and leaned in.  I looked them square in the eye and said:

‘You’re a shit bag.’

And I walked on.

I reported back to cousin.  She was damn proud.

Into the night we celebrated the reason for which we all gathered.  I partied with my siblings, danced and laughed like fools.  It was the best.

Take aways from this story:

1. I broke the rules.  Nice girls, nice Christian girls, aren’t SUPPOSED to say those sorts of things.  Nice girls are supposed to smile, and walk away.  Nice christian girls are supposed to say, I forgive you, and walk away.   That’s what nice girls do and those are the rules, lest you be considered crude, unholy and well, not nice.  Remember, turn the other cheek?  *I come from a church background, so for those of you who aren’t and or/don’t follow, hang on two ticks.

Churchies: Yes, I remember ‘turn the other cheek.’  I also remember the same person who said that (Jesus), told a bunch of hypocrites who were bullying a woman to get lost.  We don’t actually know what Jesus said.  But he said something that made the bullies scram.  When I think of what my husband, or brothers might say to a group of guys bullying a woman, it’s not politically correct- just saying. My imagination wanders. I also remember that same man entering the temple of God with a whip, lashing at people’s merchandise tables, only to turn them over because they were selling products in a spiritual sanctuary, making money for themselves in a place that was meant to be for prayer.  Who was Jesus to do those things?  He had no civil authority at that time, no ‘right’ to do that.  He saw something he didn’t like, and took care of it, because it was wrong. From where I sit, seems like Jesus broke some social rules too. Hashtag #metoo.

2. If it’s a question of being bullied and taking it, or ‘breaking the rules’ by speaking up.  Break the socially accepted rules.  Everytime. Women (and men, but I’m talking to us women here because you are predominantly my readers):

Bullying takes places everywhere. I mean everywhere.

In your work spaces

In your place of worship

In your relationships

In your homes

In your classrooms

ON YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA

In the airports, restaurants and train stations.

At family functions from unsuspecting strangers.

Break the rules.  Say no.  No one wins when you stay silent.

3. Scroll back a day on the blog here, and just remember whose opinion of you matters.  It’s probably the amount of names that can fit on a small post it.
4. Get close to people in your life who you wouldn’t get into a bar fight with.  They are very helpful.