We Interrupt Our Regular STFU Programming For a Burp

Holy Mother of all that is good, this was by far the crappiest, most horrible and heinous week I’ve had in a long time.

Don’t get me wrong, my life usually blows a big one. And I mean bigger than an elephant’s schlong, or that World’s Biggest Thermometer out in the Mohave Desert. This one really takes the cake.

We’ve all had colds. Our increased rent is breathing down our necks, forcing us into making decisions. I’m still really homesick and want to move back to Chicago and my family so badly I can barely breathe anymore. My husband is still a misogynist. It’s been all tantrums and difficulty on the homeschooling front all week. And then this morning my husband got into a car accident, then proceeded to yell at me as if it was my fault.

Shitty week. So shitty that it’s all I can do to just sit on the couch and eat my Funmallows as I wallow in my own self-pity on the evening of this Shut the Fuck Up Friday.

Despite all this chaos, I had an STFU Fridays in the hopper, all ready to go. It went a little something like this:

My week has been so horrible I cannot even begin to describe how I am feeling right now. I know, I know … you are all thinking that I always have an awful week. Every day is full of bullshit. Well, that’s a little true and a little not true. I do pay a lot of attention to my surroundings, and so I notice more that others don’t always catch. And life is just really hard right now because I’m very unhappy. I’m also married to someone with whom drama swirls around, which causes a little bit of drama on a daily basis for me as well.

In any event, this week has sucked a big one. And what frustrates me the most about it is when I try to say that it’s been a hard week and some dillhole says in response to my complaining “well, just remember, someone has it much harder than you out there.”

Yeah, sure. Someone has it harder. Someone is living on the streets. Someone is starving to death. Someone is suffering from alcohol addiction or a drug problem. Someone has cancer or emphezyma. Someone out there is having their house foreclosed on. 

There are a million possibilities.

But I can’t help but say to the people that say that, the people that always say “just remember, someone has it much harder than you;” the shamers that want you to feel bad for letting out your feelings about whatever you are going through, no matter how trivial it may seem to them – I want to say to them that it’s about time they shut the fuck up. Seriously. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Everyone deals with everything differently. Everyone experiences everything from a different perspective. I’m not saying my piddly shit problems and unhappiness in California compares to someone that just lost a loved one or had any of the other horse shit things happen to them that have not happened to me, and are insurmountably worse than what I am going through. I’m just saying that people need to shut the fuck up and stop shaming me for feeling like shit about a shitty situation.

It’s okay to feel like shit.

It’s okay to be upset.

It is okay to have negative feelings sometimes.

It’s okay to let it out and feel like garbage because something is going wrong for you.

All people that say that bullshit about “just remember someone has it worse off than you” are doing is trying to shame you into feeling guilty for feeling like your life is shitty or you got a bum rap. 

Seriously… shut the fuck – – – – – – – –

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

We interrupt our regular STFU Programming for a Burp.

So at this point, we were out to dinner with my dad tonight and I was starting to bitch and complain about the car accident that my husband got into today, and the fact that he yelled at me as if it was my fault and problem to deal with. Then my dad was starting to do his usual “someone else out there has it worse than you” rap he usually goes into, and I about to tell him to shut the fuck up, when the waitress walked up and my dad opened his mouth to order his Diet Coke and tacos and instead of words, an uproarious belch came shrieking out of his skull cave.

The waitress started to laugh.

We all started to laugh.

I was laughing so hard I started crying.

My dad apologized about eight times.

We aren’t just talking about a little squeaker of a burp. We are talking the foulest and most gutteral sound any human being could utter.

Out of my father’s mouth. With the waitress and all of us right there.

I didn’t really get a chance to complain about the week and my horrible times, and my dad didn’t get an opportunity to tell me that someone in the world has it worse off than me.

And that was my Shut the Fuck Up Friday. Began with bullshit. Ended with a belch.

I think we’ve all learned a number of lessons, here. Now shut the fuck up!

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