Sometimes it’s not PTSD that inspires my writing. Sometimes people are just assholes, I get tired of the way they treat me and give them the what for.
Those moments? When people get on my very last nerve? Those don’t stick the way trauma does. They don’t repeat themselves in my head a million times. In fact if it weren’t for noting it on my social media and seeing it pop up in my “on this day” memories I would have completely forgotten about it all together.
Two years ago I let my anger explode on to the “pages” here after being followed, yelled at and generally harassed by an old acquaintance of mine. What I wanted to do was tell her off and end the drama, but really yelling at her via blog just made things worse.
I’ve since removed the post from my archives. Not because I regret anything I said, but because I no longer want to be that person who feeds into her drama. Yes, she’ll probably see this and yes she’ll probably use it to cite why I’m a horrible hypocrite and everything else she’s accused me of over the years. No, I don’t think it will necessarily be a public thing this time around.
I don’t have to apologize for calling her out on her bullshit, but I am humble enough to admit my reaction was a mistake. Know better, do better. 🤷🏻♀️