The Thinking Other Woman

What you should know BEFORE your affair.


I Realized I Am A Very Angry Person

Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on March 8, 2022 at 7:10 PM

So here I am struggling to get my essay book lined up and figure out how to work KDP, which I swore I would never do, because I hate struggling with difficult software so much that I believed it would never be worth it for a book that would never sell. But now I'm banned on Medium, so I have to put out a book if I want anyone to see these essays.

But why am I banned on Medium? For that matter, why can't I quit making snarky comments on RethugliKKKan posts ... even when they're on my brother's Facebook page? Or on articles about What One Must Do To Lose Weight?

Because these posts Make Me Mad. REALLY, REALLY MAD.

I used to sit demurely and not say a word when people were doing or saying things I thought were wrong, because I was afraid to argue with anyone, and believed I really didn't know all that much about all that much anyway. Then, I met my friend Inari, who was never afraid to call anyone out about anything, and could do so very well, too.

I started to think that we will never see anything change if we're "nicey-nice" to people who still think Dump won the election, or that giving huge tax gifts to the rich and lying about covid and screwing over Ukraine to screw over the Bidens were good things. Not to mention all the tacky racist things he said and how fucking ignorant he was and how he licked Putin's and Kim Jong-Un's boots and ... I could go on. Listen to people with a Dump/RethugliKKKan mindset talk and you basically hear the same viewpoint over and over:

"People are supposed to be PERFECT, damn it!! And if you aren't perfect, it's because you are LAZY!!!"

These people have NO empathy for ANYONE. They've been told whatever they've been told and that's what it is, and no matter WHAT your experience is, they don't want to hear it. You are just lazy and a bad person.

Shannon Ashley, who writes on Medium, has an illness called lipedema that results in massive, massive accumulations of fibrosis and fat in the thighs and calves. No matter what the person does, the fat just grows and grows like cancer. These people can end up weighing hundreds of pounds, and while diet and exercise may slim the rest of the body (for a while) the thighs and calves remain huge. The only cure is liposuction.

Shannon is in the middle of three liposuction surgeries to get her legs down to a size that will actually enable her to walk normally. She has been writing about this for some two years now. And STILL there will be a troll popping up to call her an unfit mother because she "just won't diet and exercise," and to say she is lazy and selfish. When she's written extensively about every diet and weight loss regimen she's been on, and her doctor is a specialist who's written extensively that this form of fat is unresponsive to diet and exercise. A person in the late stages of this disease will never have normal-looking legs. Never.

I see stupid idiot RethugliKKKans "mansplaining" to me how people are poor because they are lazy and don't want to work--including me. It does not matter WHAT I say to some of these people. They just KNOW I should have been 100% debt free and have tons of money saved up for retirement, they just KNOW I should be bone thin, and the only reason this isn't true of me is because I am lazy.

It isn't the first time I've been on the receiving end of this kind of garbage. A poster on Medium wrote about the abusive childhood she had, in which the parents did nothing around the house and used their very small children to do all the housework, and I had this to say:

Boy, does THIS bring back memories.


I remember long lists of 20 rules (mostly chores) taped up to the back of my bedroom door. I remember my mother saying she wished my best friend was her daughter because SHE set the table for dinner without being asked.


I remember coming home from school every Friday and having to clean one entire wing of the house. That was: three bedrooms, the hallway, and two bathrooms, pick up, dust, vacuum, and scrub sinks and toilets. I was ... let's see. I was struggling to get done before The Dukes of Hazzard came on, so ... 1979? I was at most 11, possibly 10. I wasn't allowed to do anything else before I was finished except stop for dinner (and, of course, to help do dishes.) Saturday I wasn't allowed to do anything until all my homework was done.


I remember my mother bitching if I didn't clean. I remember her bitching if I did clean. She bitched while I cleaned about the way I cleaned. My grandmother and father would be routinely told that I was banging the vacuum into the furniture (I don't remember banging the vacuum into any furniture), and then it was decided I was doing it on purpose in an attempt to get out of having to vacuum. Since nothing like that had occurred to me, I was routinely angry at the adults in the family who said these things. One time I broke down crying during a conversation of this nature because I had parents who actually thought such mean things about me and were telling me I was this mean kid and there was nothing I could do about it. Then they bitched that I was crying in order to manipulate them, which only made me cry harder.


The bathrooms were a particular trial. I remember getting screamed at repeatedly week to week. I would keep a running head file of what she screamed about and alter my routine the next week until I finally hit on a routine that didn't get me screamed at. Once I found this routine, I made sure to do everything the exact same way every time. (Example: I got screamed at every week for not cleaning the "back" of the toilet, which I assumed was the top of the tank. At LONG last, my mother, instead of screaming and spanking me, actually took me in the bathroom and showed me what she meant: that crevice behind the toilet lid and the toilet tank.) She would do the same thing over folding clothes. She would scream over how I hung clothes on the line wrong without ever showing me how she wanted them hung (as if it fucking mattered) or scream that pants were to be folded "seam to seam" without ever considering that you CAN fold pants in half and the seams still touch. Then she would complain that HER parents used to treat her that way, and never once notice that she was doing the exact same thing to me.


My brother never, ever, ever, EVER had to do a lick of chores around the house, or ever got spanked over them, or ever got complained about to other family members for being "lazy" because he did not want to do any. There was an awful lot of screaming and spanking around our house all the time, most of it over housework.


Over the years we all became addicted to the serial "Guiding Light." I got off the bus at 3:30 pm, which would have allowed me to actually sit down and catch the last half hour before starting to do whatever chores she was bitching about today. Sad to say, she would be sitting there watching it when I got home, but if I sat down instead of jumping directly to the laundry or whatever, I got yelled at. As anyone can see, it is entirely possible to fold clothes and watch TV at the same time, but nothing doing ... I still got yelled at. Not being able to do a simple thing like sit and watch my favorite program for even half an hour after school made me very angry.


I have spoken to my mother only about three times in the last sixteen years. The last time she brought up how stubborn a child I was and that I picked all the heads off her marigolds when I was eight right after she told me not to. Gee, wonder what I could have been angry about? Between going to school and getting picked on and ostracized by classmates and coming home to this, I have very few happy memories from childhood. I mostly hated her and couldn't wait to leave home. Of course, then it came out how she had been sexually abused and hit by my grandfather, and that was most confusing. I felt sorry for her and her life of suffering at the same time as all this anger about how she treated me.


In short: Yep. Chores can definitely be child abuse.

What's coming to mind here is I actually have a LOT of sympathy for people who are doing all they can humanly do, yet their circumstances are not acknowledged, and millions of people just look at them and believe they are bad, lazy people because they "just know" it's true. I AM SO ANGRY AT THESE PEOPLE. So, I get triggered and write posts that get me banned. So many idiot people do not understand that, even though it's possible to become, say, a plumber, and earn a good living without incurring thousands and thousands in college debt, if you realize that long past the age of eighteen, it might have something to do with your parents and home and school environment, not just you. Also, the "Too bad, YOU were stupid!" approach only helps the ego of the speaker, which clearly shows they don't give a living shit about the other person.

Too many people think the size, shape, and look of the body is all that matters, and not the quality of life for the person living in that body. If subsisting on 800 calories a day for the rest of your life is what you have to do to get and keep a figure that person doesn't mind looking at, well, then one must do it. Never mind that 800 calories is what people starved to death on in Nazi Germany and very unpleasant to subsist on ... oh, for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. If working out three hours a day is what gives you a size they think is acceptable, well, then, one must do it! Never mind that in this economy, with jobs and kids and laundry and cleaning and commuting, when would one sleep? No, no, no, no--YOUR QUALITY OF LIFE DOES NOT MATTER. Only whether these people like how you look.

I am only just discovering the anger toward this mindset I really have. And, yes, part of it is also about people who have affairs. There is ZERO understanding toward these folks, either, and a shit load of ignorance.

I really need to be more cognizant of this and learn to handle it better. I mean, fuck, man. I made $8000 last year writing about infidelity on Medium. (No, that was not a typo.) Now ... I mean, come on. How'm I supposed to get people to buy an ebook??? I can't even sell my late husband's.

Common sense is now required.     




Categories: Current Happenings, Life Lessons