THE POSTER GIRL FOR SORRY (not sorry)
By Doris AC Johnson MA of Psy, ABA
If “sorry, not sorry” was a person…that would be me! I have been called a handsome feminist, and I thought it was cute and creative. Not even I could have come up with that one. Actually, that’s downright genius! I have been called a lot of things. Someone called me bitter and jilted. Anger has no place with me. I have been called a lesbian (no judgment here) I have even been told that I have the face of Wendy Williams. (no shade Wendy) I have been accused of hating men…but I have proof that is not true. My father was a man…or so I have been told! And tears have yet to be shed. Why? Because I come from a family of five children…me being the middle child. That means that as a child, I was never the first to accomplish anything. I was never the baby who was excused from mischief. And I followed no one’s lead or anyone’s crowd. I marched to the beat of my own drum and stayed within the rhythm.
After surviving the stigma of being the middle child, surely you must realize that my skin is as thick as the fiber on a football. It doesn’t matter how shy I am. It doesn’t matter how passive I seem. I’m not sorry for choosing to believe what I believe. I don’t apologize for expressing myself. Unlike many people…I stand by what I stand by. And even when I am judged, I’m still standing by it. Because it means that much to me.
You are probably wondering why I am rambling on like an insane old woman, but there is a reason for my madness. About ten years ago, I started a page on Facebook. That page is called Dear Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend. It was encouraged by a friend who saw my humorous post on my primary page. (notice that I said humorous) I truly thought nothing of it. She suggested that I not only create a forum for my post, but she suggested that I write the book…and I did. And when it was in publications, people were ordering by the case. I was not at all angry when I was creating those short scenarios. Some of them were truths dipped in sugar, and others were plain thought-provoking. Over the ten years that the page has been running and available, I have gained over 17,000 members. I was and am just doing it for fun. However, some people have chosen to turn this into a personal battle…like the War of the Roses, or Venus vs Mar, but it’s more like a drink-up those tears before you die of dehydration type of situation. It’s not a cry for help. It’s more like the roadmap to emotional freedom.
Why do I not have the right to make light of what challenges we face in relationships? Why can’t we laugh about the things we have encountered. I truly believe that after you have consulted with your journal, and stop mulling over things with your emotions, cried on the shoulder of your best friend, and wiped the snot from your nose, you have conjured up the strength to laugh out loud about your experience. It’s all in fun. Life is about love, loss, and laughter. And did I say laughter? We are not a support group for people still in their storm. So get in there and sound off. You are expected to make somebody’s day…and you are expected to have your day made. I welcome you to make me laugh, and I need it. I am human too and I can’t bring all the funny alone. I have been lied to and cheated on, ghosted, and mishandled. That’s life…right! And the world is not going to stop because I’m saddened, or angry, or displeased with the lemons love has thrown me. I’m not making lemonade…I am freezing them and throwing them back…and smiling the whole while! We are here to get you laughing under the rainbow! We are not pouty…we are petty. Petty Crocker, Petty Midler, Petty Labelle, Petty Murphy, Petty Rubble, Petty Boop, Petty Wap, Teddy Petty…and the list can go on for as long as I am being petty.
I can’t control what happens to me along my journey. I can’t predict when I will be heartbroken or if I will be heartbroken again. However, I can control the way I respond to them. Tears are good. The water washes out your eyes so you can see better…more clearly. You have to come to know it. You have to believe it. I had to learn it and that is how I got here. Nothing that I say here is born from a place of pain. That part is gone…and although it visits from time to time…there is always laughter in it. And I am determined to always be that way.
Try spending more time laughing and less time dissecting the words and actions of someone else. It could be very enlightening. Does my haughtiness offend you?. (Thank you Maya Angelo) Well, I’m sorry that you feel that way. But, dear heart, I am not sorry for anything else.
