I have a knack for doing some crazy shit. Nothing major, just some not well thought out stuff that gets impulsively executed.
Often, I amuse myself. For example, last Friday an incident with my son occurred. About 7 years ago we did an ancestry test. My son’s results found that he has a 1% ancestor lineage from Chad, Africa. I thought this was cool. On the school registration cards where it asks your nationality, a practice I am opposed to, I decided to put him down as African American. I didn’t think anyone looked at these things anyway. Well, on Friday they called him in for a mandatory all-black assembly at his high school. I felt horrible for my son—but I also thought it was hysterical.
There are many such examples. It’s how I roll.
The thing is, there is a difference between being laughed at and having someone laugh with you.
I shared this story with my sisters and a few friends on Facebook. It was all chuckles until one of my sister started taking it a bit far. Insults. Well, okay, I can deal with a couple of those, I am not that sensitive. But then some mockery. Now, well it is getting to where my feelings are getting hurt. I decide to ignore her. After the subject was worn out and dead, she kept pecking at it and making sure I know what an idiot I am.
Someone made a comment about her going on and on and her reply was that “She (me) is made of Teflon, everything rolls right off her.”
Wow. Does she have it wrong. I am a sponge. The only thing I can be accused of is taking everything to heart and letting everything offend and break me. I did not realize that my sister didn’t know me.
I don’t think anyone takes insults and put downs in stride. How she figures I can doesn’t even make sense. She knows I am an alcoholic and that there are people in our family I hate because of they abused me. She knows I am rather fragile. I am strong too—but when it comes to being laughed at and mocked in front of the few people I love and trust—well, then I am fragile.
I want her to stop posting about my being a “doofus” and move onto a different subject. There is no way I will not confront her, though. She will just find something to mock me for in my request (maybe). The thing is, I don’t trust that she won’t.
Is this enough for me to run out and drink? Yes.
I don’t think it is so bad I cannot resist though. But it is a trigger. The way it makes me feel when I am laughed at like that—being so low, well. That is a feeling I want to drown.
I am not the most astute person, but I just may be one of the most sensitive. I can do my part and try to not resent her for her words yesterday. I can try to work on not being irrationally sensitive.
But I simply am not made of Teflon.