Post #38
Burning bridges and torching my life
The Incident Report · Classification: Bridges Burning · Mission Status: Zero Fucks Remaining
You’ve heard me talk ENDLESSLY about the DGAF-o-Meter, the trusty arbiter of empathy, the counter of bullshit, the measure of how much utter pointless, narcissistic tosh you can take from pointless narcissists (and others). This gauge has helped me in the most shocking of ways.
It showed me how not to be a doormat taking the crap from colleagues, family, kids, strangers, the endlessly useless medical unprofessionals. I actually grew a backbone, and some self-esteem and worth, thanks to this handy little gadget.
All it fucking took was jacked-up hormones. WHO knew? It was like a genie’s lamp granting wishes (not three either! As many as I could muster), paving the way for the brand-new liberated me. The first time I employed this magical tool, I was blown away by how little I cared. Once I would have worried about being a sociopath or some such, but not now. Not caring was O-KAY. The shocked reaction to the word ‘no.’ It seems I hadn’t uttered it very often during my life, but watching the face of Brenda (from Accounts) as she stuttered, and then grew purple like Violet Beauregarde, was invigorating. And the best bit? She was so taken aback, she actually forgot to berate me or complain! I felt like Bilbo Baggins et al with the ring that ruled them all. POWERFUL, UNFORGIVING and SEEN!
But just like the ring, there was a snag. How far could my not giving a fuck take me? What if I went too far? But who cared, I was on a roll and feeling good about myself for the first time in years. And I lost my head. It didn’t stop with Brenda, there were other scalps to be had. Anytime anyone was rude or nasty, I relied on the DGAF-o-Meter to be my loyal compass. I was not emotional (amazing given my roller coaster of feelings), I was calm and collected. I began to hear myself saying, “I will let you know after I finish blah,” or “that doesn’t suit my calendar,” or “I have another meeting right now,” and so on and so on. I even mastered the ability to shirk the work by effectively giving it back to the person who had dumped it on me. I can’t blame them; they had always had the PRE-PERIMENOPAUSAL me. The “yes, sir, no sir, baaah baaah,” me. These demonstrations were perceived in two ways. 1. I had massive bull-sized balls any male would be proud of and 2. I had lost the plot and was being rude, anti-team and obstructionist. To this I said “I DGAF.” Silently under my breath of course, I’m not stupid!
This newfound culling did not stop at work, it was equally effective on the so-called friends and family and others who tried to take advantage of me. I was leaving heads of corn and ears of wheat lying strewn in the wake of my DGAFing scythe. I was as vocal as the elderly porch-sitter who shouts ‘truth’ at passers-by. I gave pieces of my mind out like there was no tomorrow, I stopped sugar-coating and telling people what they wanted to hear. I was blunt and sharp at the same time. But never cruel (not my style), but as with all things, there are consequences and for me that was losing friendships because I had changed. In fact that was the general consensus, “you’ve changed,” or “you never said that before. I never knew.”
“Well love, you fucking do now and I’m not sorry for saying no at last. For not staying up to 3am listening to you and only when sated do you hang up without as much as a, ‘how are you?’”
No shit I had changed and I must say I don’t really GAF! Only time will tell if this is the right approach, but it’s the right NOW approach for me and I’m good with it. So here's the silver lining of tanking hormones: nurture and care for that which does not deserve it, does not get it!
WELCOME TO THE THUNDER CRONE!