Credit Where Credit is Due...

There are more times than I'd like to admit that I hand my phone to Brent and say, "Read this."

I'm not having him read something for edification on his part, or even amusement. I'm having him read it so I get credit for holding my tongue. Or fingers as the case may be. 

He dumped Facebook a few years ago. It wasn't making him happy. It was doing the opposite. The combination of mean stories that get posted and seeing people he thought he knew actually not be the type of people he wanted to know was adding misery to his life instead of joy so he dumped it. He misses some of the interactions with friends he doesn't get to see in real life, but overall he thinks it was a good choice.

But that means he doesn't see what I'm posting on Facebook either. He sees my Instagram posts, so he knows what the cats and I got up to that day, but he doesn't get the "oh she's going to be in a mood" warnings from my paragraph long posts and interactions with people. Which probably has helped his mood as well...

But sometimes I need someone who knows me well to see those. So I can get credit for keeping Bad Denise on the bench instead of unleashing her on the world. 

I've talked about it before, I like my gold stars. And sometimes Good Denise needs a lot of gold stars. Like thousands of them. To plaster over Bad Denise so you can't hear her "Oh listen here, motherfucker..."

But Brent doesn't need to see her actually come out to see where she is lurking. 

I'm like the Incredible Hulk, the secret is I'm always angry. The secret is she's always there. 

I know, it sounds kind of crazy when I refer to myself as two (or more) different Denises, but it's the best way I have to explain. It's all me, of course, it's all there all the time, of course, it's just a choice on how I face the world. 

When I was younger Bad Denise rode lead. People were shocked when I was nice to them. Like they didn't know I had it in me. People that got to know me as an adult are shocked when they hear stories from my high school years; when they hear someone say that until they actually got to know me they were terrified of me. And I get it I'm 5'5" kind of girl next door, soccer mom, bring a hot dish looking. How could I ever strike fear into anyone? But I'm also mean as a snake when I want to be. And after the one experiment in nonviolence that was not a thing I cared about.

That whole hurt people hurt people stuff? Well, yeah, I was a kid who had been abused growing up, who felt abandoned in a lot of ways, who knew to the core of her that NOBODY was coming to save me so I didn't give anyone the opportunity to hurt me. I sliced them up with my words and also had a pretty strong reputation for fighting. Though I didn't fight that often. But my sister had been a HUGE fighter (see abused kid me) and so her reputation got welded on to mine and suddenly I was a beast. 

Which suited me fine. 

This was who Brent started dating. He was never scared. He always thought I was a lot nicer than people realized having seen me with the underdogs of the world, building them up instead piling on. And now he is the one to recognize when that nicer part of me is wearing a little thin. 

And gives me a gold star for not unleashing. 

And also tells me when it's time to unleash. 

Which is nice as well.

It's good to get credit for when you are following your better angels. 

It's better to have someone in your corner who loves the demons as well. 

Credit where credit is due. He deserves it.