I've read that opinions are like assholes ... everybody's got one. Here's mine. ( Ahem, my Opinions! Not booty!)

Duck Off

Let me preface this entry by saying two things:

A) It sucks.

B) It’s true. 

Here’s the statement: People can only hurt you when you allow them to.

Ixnay on the physical stuff. Obviously we don’t have badass force fields protecting us from the loons who want to cause bodily injury. I’d also like to clarify that there are times when no matter what – your feelings are going to, and will get hurt. Heartbreak, rejection, betrayal … those sorts of feelings hurt. But after the initial blow – that’s when your hall pass to heartbreak ends, and the destiny of emotions falls back into your control.

Let me get a little more specific.

I know a person. Let’s call this person “duck”. {Why duck? Because duck is pretty darn anonymous sounding – and I’m not trying to rat anybody out here. I also think that imagining this situation with a duck involved is funny and makes me look like a total quack! <-- Mom jokes!} So! Duck was a person that was my friend. We had a complicated friendship, sometimes very close – sometimes very unhealthy. The bottom line is that our friendship broke. Things happened that hurt me. I am quite sure that I did things that hurt the duck too. But – ultimately I allowed myself to stay vulnerable, and naive, and unprotected. I continued to throw myself at the friendship – continued to exhaust every effort I could to make it better – continued to try when it was clear that all hope was gone. So when duck continued to hurt me – who’s fault was the pain?

My very best friend, Teague, (who is SO wonderful that he deserves to be named, noted, and revered!)  is a huge fan of Oprah. I never really tuned into Oprah, and while I know this sentiment comes from her – I’m giving Teague the credit because he's where I’ve heard this from. “When somebody shows you who they are, believe them.” Pretty astute – pretty obvious – but pretty FREAKING hard sometimes.

If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it is a duck. For me, “duck” could be replaced with a number of unfriendly pseudonyms: asshole, douchebag, asshat, jerk, worst human on the face of the planet, etc …

My duck continued to show me that it could fly, quack, and waddle – but some ridiculous part of me wanted to imagine that this sucker of a duck, was gonna morph into a beautiful swan. I chose to put blinders on. I chose to be stupid. Recently I went out with duck. It had been a long time since we’d spent any time together. I foolishly chose to believe that duck would not act like a duck, even though the duck has always consistently showed me who they were/are. You know what happened? Feelings got hurt, because the duck acted like a duck. But – instead of funneling my disappointment at the duck – I focused it back on me. I was mad at myself this time – hurt me once, shame on you – hurt me twice, and shame on me. (Let’s be real though. Hurt me 6543213165468313 times, and SHAME, SHAME, SHAME on me!) This shame is from me being dumb. The disappointment I felt was entirely of my own doing.

So you know what time it is? It’s time to SHUT.THE.DUCK.UP. <--Momma’s on a roll. #punsonpuns

This is me – taking a stand. From this moment forward I choose not to let some stupid, feathered, waddling beast have any input on how I feel. I know that the duck is and will always be, a duck. And from now on, I don’t give a flying duck.



Buddha Knows.