The Old Me

As pieces of my memory slowly began to emerge, I would have sort of flashback moments remembering my craziness.  Times when I acted out of control or said really hurtful things to people, just to feel better about myself (the very definition of a bully).

I know my full memory will probably never return.

It’s been over ten years and there are still pictures of my kids in our house that I don’t remember taking or being there when they were taken.  D swears we owned two vehicles that I drove on a regular basis that I don’t ever remember even seeing.  Funny stories that start with “remember that time?” are lost to me … met with blank stares and often tears of frustration.

There are a lot of times I do remember that I wish I could forget.  Like the times we would go out to eat and I would treat the waitress like garbage.  The plates and silverware were never clean enough to my liking.  There was always something wrong with the food … something wrong with the service … the temperature of the room … the people next to us.  Eventually, almost always, demanding to see the manager so I could barter for something free in exchange for the slight I received that never really happened.  No wonder D just preferred we just stay home.

There are times though when I can remember my horrific behavior and can compare it to how I react to things now, the real me way.  Not the old, crazy me way.

We went to a Christmas parade.  We didn’t really plan on it.  We just happened to be parked on a main street, went into an antiques store for a little while and walked out to discover a parade going by and our car stuck while it passed.  After watching for a few minutes, D turned to me and said “you know … the old you would have caused a scene about this”.

He was right.  I would have demanded they stop the parade so we could move our car.  It’s sad, but oh so true.  I spent a lot of years demanding things just that crazy … never understanding why people didn’t do as I barked or barking even louder so they would.

The old me would have thrown a screaming fit when the lady at Braum’s was kind of shitty about not giving me ketchup.  She swore she put it in the bag.  It wasn’t in the bag.  I asked nicely.  She didn’t respond nicely.  I just smiled and drove off.

When my friends and I disagree about politics now, we’re able to have a civil adult conversation.  The old me screamed at them about how wrong they were, how their candidate was a non-Christian moron and called them idiots for believing the way they did.  It’s a miracle I still have friends.

So maybe I don’t want to forget the bad times.  Maybe they serve as a reminder of how far I’ve come and how much I don’t miss the old me.  I’m pretty sure nobody does.

This post is why you HAVE to say “no” to the people who act like I used to

Say “NO!” to the Fit Throwers


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2 thoughts on “The Old Me”

    1. I sure have. Sometimes it is hard when the memories come back and I realize how awful I was to people, but then again it makes me grateful I realized what was wrong. I sure don’t take things for granted anymore.

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