When I was a child I was extremely subservient to everyone. As other children ran through the house with scissors, screaming and shrieking, I sat alone, usually enjoying a book or some sort of craft. Everyone thought I was sweet because I’d go out of my way to give anything to anyone. Really, this was just my upbrining. My mother raised me to be a doormat. It’s not her fault. She was born and bred in the backwoods of Maine where gender politics are still stuck somewhere around 1880 or so. You know men are men, they make all the decisions and have all the status in the community and basically own women who are clearly too stupid to run their own lives or have their own opinions and whatnot. Such a silly thought! I mean you don’t want your brood mares talking now do you? That just ruins it for everyone. But I digress!
Whenever anyone asked anything of me I did it. When the bullies at school asked for some possession of mine I just handed it over, no questions asked, muttering, “Well, if they really need it who am I to keep it?” This continued well into adulthood and it’s how at the age of nineteen I found myself drowning in cats, sixty-five of them running through my house tearing it to pieces, pissing on every inch, and giving each other every disease under the sun. That was not because I was trying to get a jump start on being a crazy cat lady. This was because I got messed up with an animal hoarder, a friend, who at one point came to live with us for six months even though she had a home of her own. She was going through some stuff with her boyfriend of ten years and needed an escape. It was supposed to be two weeks. But two weeks turned into three which turned into a month and as time continued she had to bring her pets over. She bred cats, purebred cats, or at least that’s what she told me. She failed to mention she bred all breeds and many mixes and would spend what seemed every waking minute collecting more because they were “cool” or she could turn a buck on them. She made it sound great. I could earn some money too! So how is it I ended up paying for them and their extrodinairy vet, food, and litter bills as well as the catastrophic damage they did to the house?!
When the cats weren’t enough she dragged over twelve ferrets, twenty-five rabbits, two highly illegal Dormice, and a domestic skunk, also illegal. A string of small puppy mill dogs came after that. Whenever I could sell one I’d tell her and she’d come get them, sell them herself, and I would end up with nothing but a bill. The cats all got liquid-shits somehow and I had to cage them for sanity and was up until 3AM every night keeping them clean. By this time I had enough and I was saying no… but It was too late. She already knew she could walk all over me. I told her if she dropped off any more animals they would die because I wasn’t going to feed them. Two days later she showed up with a litter of kittens, was on my porch shoving them into the house, and promptly left before I could even throw them back at her.
Things got really bad when she managed to piss off her boyfriend enough to leave her. With him went her financial security, the house she lived in, basically her whole life. Guess who got stuck with that whole fucking zoo? At various points I concocted elaborate lies saying they had gotten into plague or poison so I could get rid of them without her demanding money for them which she did.
All of this could have been avoided if I just said no in the very beginning. How do I know this? Because almost two decades on, she’s still in my life. Just yesterday she was trying to get me to babysit her loser boyfriend’s pit bull for a couple days and a request to drive her SIX HOURS to where she needed to go. I had offered to bring her from her apartment to the home she needed to go earlier, which would have taken me maybe an hour, and I was content in doing that but no… she wasn’t at her apartment, she was off in some obscure corner of the state with her boyfriend and she had to go to an opposite corner to get her errand done before being returned and me driving home from there. Six hours. She asks about that damn dog all the time. No. I will not take the dog even for two minutes. I know this will only make drama in my life in one way or another…. maybe it’ll run off, maybe it’ll get into something, maybe it’ll destroy my house, maybe it’ll get her psycho duffer of a boyfriend angry at me for something, or maybe I’d end up keeping the damn thing after they both disappear. I said no to the six hour drive and to the damn dog, again. I said I would take her if she’s at her apartment. She said her boyfriend didn’t want to drive two and a half hours to work in the morning. BOOHOO. He’s the one that should be dragging your ass around in the first place! And he’s the one whose ass you are suctioned so hard to you can’t even stay in YOUR apartment by yourself! You see in the past year I haven’t just learned how to say no I have also learned how to voice my opinion of shitty things loudly and with ample cursing.
I was told if you don’t have something nice to say about someone you shouldn’t say anything at all. This is stupid. Don’t tell children to do this! I now make my opinion of shitty control freak boyfriends VERY CLEAR. “Can’t you just wave or something, he thinks you hate him!” “GOOD. I DO.” I can’t tell you how good this has been for me. I no longer take shit from anyone.
This is all especially important if you have a tedious health condition like I do. I know where my limits are and I also know that first and foremost I have to take care of myself, no one else. Taking care of others can only come AFTER taking care of myself. If I don’t take care of myself I will drive myself into the ground and then no one can use me for anything. It’s like that whole, “Give the oxygen mask to yourself before your child.” scenario. Giving it to the kid first will ensure he lives another few minutes but will probably drop dead after you do. Taking the first breath yourself gives you time to take care of the both of you and make sure you can both survive. Life is no different. I’m not saying you can’t help friends I am saying you must make a distinction between being used and being a good friend and even in the latter you STILL need to make boundaries for yourself. Do not feel bad about sticking up for yourself!
I used to feel bad about turning down anything. I mean I could have said yes and helped and maybe the asswipe asking is asking for a legitimate reason, who am I to say no? Take that voice and wring it’s little neck. It’s not a helpful voice. This is the same voice that will have you nodding quietly as some dipshit is mansplaining something to you that you actually know more about when you should be saying, “Shut the fuck up! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Now now, a mouthy woman is an unwanted woman. Men don’t want a woman who will put them in their place. Here’s the thing, you don’t need that kind of man in your life. That man is a douchebag. You want someone who is worthy of your attention, someone who doesn’t need to be put in their place because they’re already a decent human being.
I fear I have gotten a bit off track but my rant remains true. To all the women reading and to all those with chronic illness as well – learn to say no like a super hero. Learn to own it. You will be a much happier healthier person for it.