February 18, 2011
Losing My Cool in the Heat of the Moment
"The only way you can legally smoke pot is if you're dying of cancer or something."
"Sam, did your mom get to do that?"
My chest tightened. Did she seriously just ask me that?
"Did she get to smoke marijuana when she was... you know... sick... and dying...?"
That's when she decided to take it upon herself to WebMD my pelvic 'symptoms' and shout throughout the office how I could have tumors growing on my uterus, an inflamed bladder, ovarian cysts, etc. Talk about icing on the cake; I was on a sugar high.
It took everything in me not to cry right there. I was so offended. It wasn't what she said necessarily; it was the way she said it: like bringing up your death out of nowhere nonchalantly was no big deal and wouldn't upset me; like you were just any ol' person; like the fact that you may have been offered a chance to legally smoke was a perk of dying.
I spent parts of the night crying and ranting about how I wasn't going back to work. Both Dad and Tom told me it was time to stick up for myself in order to end the constant bullying and rude comments hurled my way almost daily. I was honest with them and admitted that I didn't think I could do it. In my every day life I am certainly not a pushover-- I speak my mind and wear my heart on my sleeve-- yet when I walk into this building I feel defeated. It's not always this bad, but the difficult days are beginning to outweigh the good ones, and it's taking a toll on me. I was honest with them... I'm not strong enough for this.
When my word vomit finally ceased, she hugged me and said she felt awful because her intention was never to upset me or be disrespectful. I figured that was the case, and I knew she would feel horrible (which in turn made me feel bad for calling her out on it, but I refused to let that show). I made sure we had an understanding, thanked her for the apology, and moved on to another topic.