I had a brief unpleasant encounter with an obnoxious drunk person at a social thing recently. He kept punching me in the arm, and he loudly got right up to within inches of my face. Others dealt with him pretty well and seemed able to shrug him off; I could not.
I have tried to let it go. But it won’t go . . .
Because I suffer from BIPOLAR DISORDER and the encounter rattled me and then took hold. It triggered my latest downward spiral and I am having a really hard time pulling out of it.
A few moments of someone’s drunken stupidity messed with my state of well-being and opened up some old “mean-drunk” wounds and memories of abuse. Not to mention the effort and energy it took for me NOT to smack him and tell him to grow the fuck up.
Being exposed to these careless kinds of people really takes a toll on me, and I’m beginning to think I need to stay home and isolated from the rest of the world. And that breaks my heart.
Honestly, I love to party as much as the next gal does, maybe more even, and I understand that not all of us deal with our problems in the same way, but aggressive and intrusive behavior is just not acceptable.
A few weeks ago on Facebook, I witnessed a friend bully someone who she knows has mental health issues. She disagreed with his inappropriate and offensive post so much, that she jumped on him HARD . . . and she became an abuser. Afterwards, I asked if she thought her behavior would affect his mental well-being and she said that she could not be responsible for how someone reacts to what she says.
We are ALL responsible for our words and actions and how we affect those around us. Seriously, do you think your right of free speech entitles you to say anything to anyone, and not be held accountable?
Almost a week later, I finally forced myself to leave the house and decided to deliver three crocheted afghans I had made for some friends. I put each into a white garbage bag, attached a note, and threw them into the car.
I drove to Trenton and stuffed one in the door of a friend, and left. I then crossed the Grosse Ile Bridge to deliver the next one.
Afterwards, while crossing back over, a thought crossed my mind.
“I could drive off of this bridge right now. Today could be the day I drive off of the Grosse Ile Bridge.”
Although the thought was hardly a consideration, and I couldn’t actually drive off of the bridge even if I really wanted to because it has long been reinforced with concrete barriers and high railings, I glanced at the last remaining bag in the front seat.
“I can’t”, I thought, “She would wonder why everyone got their afghan but her.”
The thought seemed silly and I almost grinned.
But I didn’t.
Because the truth was right there . . . teetering on the edge.
No matter your intentions or how your words come wrapped, in spirituality, positivity, in the name of everything love and light, in your own cloak of self-absorption or instability, or even wrapped in the name of God, you had better be careful with them. Because you are responsible for your impact on others.
That’s not my opinion. That is the truth.
Although I won’t go so far as to say that someone else is liable for my action of, say, driving off a bridge, I will take the leap and say that they can certainly be the car behind me, riding my rear bumper and giving me that extra little nudge into nothingness.
We are all responsible for what we do and what we say. We have the potential to cause pain. Everyone affects everyone else.
I completed my goal that day, safely making all three deliveries, and later that evening, I wrote my daily post-it note for my “2013 Kindness Jar”.