I’m letting people who hurt me in the past live rent free in my mind.
One episode involves a former landlord that tried to run me over in an intersection with no traffic cameras.
Another one involves a manager that fired me for informing that one of his favorites yelled during night shift and ignored alarms to talk. He fired me the next day, used the exit interview to tell me everything I didn’t do right (but kept quiet about his favorites, even though I did the job like them), still had the utmost confidence on his favorites, accused me of being lazy and instead of simply firing me and keeping neutral he chose to take it personal, proceeded to try to scare me insinuating I wouldn’t work for his system again, when that failed, tried to humiliate me and then fired me. This was in an non union hospital.
When I think about it I get angry. Id like not to be so thin skinned, but here I am.
I rarely get angry at anyone, which, sadly, means I didn’t gain the skills to deal with it very well. Thus, if someone DOES make me angry, it can linger for YEARS. The record so far is some 50 years with my parents’ abuse, followed by a few friends’ betrayal as a teen (separate incidents). I have about half a dozen incidents where I have been seriously fucked over by people I trusted, and hate my continued anger over it more than I hate the event itself.
I found, however, patience has its own reward. If you’re the type of person who really fucks me over, and it’s definitely not my fault, eventually your behavior will fuck yourself in other ways. I don’t “get revenge” like some cartoon, but years later, I’ll find out, “Yeah, that asshole? After her did that thing to you that took you years to get over, his super-special kid went to jail, his wife left him, his business tanked, and last anyone heard, he’s living with him mom (whom he despised) in his 50s with zero prospects for his future.” If you fucked me over, but it’s partially or wholly my fault, then, well, I deserved it. Sometimes I make mistakes, like screw someone’s lie over by revealing a secret I didn’t know was a secret. I try super super super hard not to do that, even if I hate their guts, or the lie needs to be told for some esoteric moral bullshit (like cheating on his wife I didn’t know he had). But I try to keep my nose clean. I try not to gossip when I can help it. This also helps to know “I did my best, given what I knew.”
Dude. If someone needs you to keep track of their lies so they don’t get caught out, they’re no friend. They’re putting you in a terrible spot for no reason.
If you need to lie, then tell me the lie. Even if you’re a bad liar, never ever tell me any story different so at best I can suspect you’re a dick not not know it. And I’ll never know a different story to tell. And if you need like an alibi and I already know differently, then get someone else to alibi you.
Lying TO me is a dick move, sure; but making me carry your lie for you is worse.
Agreed. For me in most cases it’s a relationship-ending offense.
In my rare cases, it’s been one of those issues where I didn’t know they were keeping it from someone BUT it’s something that should be obvious if you thought about it for a second, OR, they claim they told me it was a secret, but it was not obvious. And I have to say, “At no point did you tell me this was a secret.” Which, you know, makes them look WORSE because now it looks like it was not only a secret, but they were intentionally covering it up as well. And then somehow that’s my fault. It becomes a game of “he said, she said,” and I lost some friends over that over the decades. Was I right? Yeah, but that’s not the point.
The problem is people lie all the time. I do my best, but sometimes I don’t get those clues. And sometimes? I have had people lie FOR ME when there was no need to begin with. Like someone tried to “cover up” where I was some evening from my wife, when my wife knew where I was (a goth club). But then he claimed I was with him, and I wasn’t. So that started a whole mess. I had to explain, “I was still at the goth club, he thinks I was with him, because he thought you weren’t supposed to know I was at the goth club, and ‘was doing me a solid’ for no reason.” It got to the point I told everyone, “Never lie for me. Either I can stand on my own actions, or I deserve to get caught for being stupid. I am not someone who can keep track of things that actually happened, much less lies.” Lies make me panicky because, well, like I said earlier, I have accidentally exposed people.
I try not to. But I make mistakes.