Amy ain't gonna do it

There’s a page I started following on Facebook recently run by a mom blogger trying her hand at amateur comedy. This chick is killing it, too. Last I checked, she was up to 1.9 million followers.
 
Heather Land does a series of videos on her page, I Aint Doin It that offer commentary on everything from Crossfit to Black Friday, and just exactly why she ain’t doin’ any of ’em. The distorted visual and vocal filter she uses, combined with her heavy Southern accent and down-home colloquialisms, makes the videos all the more entertaining.
 
The last time I watched one, I got to thinking about all the things in my life recently that I have decided that I just ain’t gonna do. It’s quite a list.

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So today I thought I’d embrace my sassy inner Southern girl and share a few. (Plus, I am not averse to stealing a good idea.) Here goes.
 
The emotional void
I tried online dating for a grand total of 30 days last fall, and it is the same bleak wasteland of broken dreams I remember from the last time I swallowed my pride and joined Match.com briefly four years ago. Online dating, in and of itself, is one thing I definitely ain’t gonna do anymore. The catfishing alone is more than I can stomach. No one is who they say they are on the Internet. If I am meant to meet someone, it will be in the real world or not at all. So there.
 
During those weeks of fruitless Tinder/Bumble/OK Cupid messages and disappointing coffee dates, a few things surfaced that elicited a series of knee-jerk, “big fat bag of nope” responses.
 
One guy, a bohemian type who I knew peripherally a decade ago but I hadn’t seen in at least that long, asked me if I would be willing to travel with him if things progressed between us. At first, I thought that sounded wonderful. My son is grown, I finally have a passport and I’m still young(ish), so travel is definitely on my agenda.
 
Come to find out he meant drive all over the country in a cramped passenger van with him and his dog, camping like a patchouli-drenched Deadhead. At one point, he showed me the bucket and accompanying plastic toilet seat he expected me to use as a bathroom.

Um, fuck no. I certainly ain’t doin’ THAT.
 
This same man is a heavy drinker, which was not immediately apparent but became obvious during our third and final date. As I have mentioned in many past blogs, I don’t drink at all, so it was clear to me that we were not going to be compatible.

He, on the other hand, thought we were perfectly matched — I was a de facto designated driver. Because babysitting his drunk ass every time we went out  would be so much fun! NOT. Yeah, ain’t doin’ that either.
 
Another guy, who assured me he had no expectations of a relationship after I said I was only looking for a companion and not a forever mate, decided he would obsessively text me his every move for the entire week following our first date.

“Selfie at the gym.” “Just went to the grocery and bought kale.” “Back from a run.” “Crazy day at work.” “Getting ready for bed.”
 
I don't want this much detail from my own family, let alone a stranger! Just NO.
 
In retrospect, I should have known by the way he leered at me over our first shared basket of fries that he was already planning our wedding. It was unnerving, and needless to say I nipped that in the bud. I am not here to fill your emotional void, dude. I ain’t doin’ it.
 
You scream, I scream
In my professional life, I’ve been in a few situations in recent months where I felt like I was on the defensive. In one situation, I got into an altercation with the caterer for one of my client’s events. He basically accused me of lying, which I cannot abide. I hate liars. Turns out he was the one being dishonest, not me.
 
I can see now that there were definite elements of gaslighting and intimidation in his interaction with me that brought up latent feelings from my past abusive relationships. Add to that I was stressed and hormonal (I’ll get to that in a moment), so I just snapped.
 
Thank God all of the guests had left the building when I finally blew my top, but I am still not proud of my reaction. I went verbally medieval on this guy’s ass. I stopped short of throwing dishes at him. But just barely.

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This experience taught me two things that I just ain’t doin’ anymore. First, I am not going to allow a jackass like that to undermine my confidence, push my buttons or otherwise get under my skin ever again. I spent weeks afterward questioning whether all the awful things he said about me were true. It still pisses me off I let this knuckle-dragging jerk get the better of me.
 
Second, I will never again resort to screaming to get my point across. It had been YEARS since I lost my temper and showed my ass like that. The next time I face any kind of conflict, I will take a breath and walk away before I react. An accusation is not a fact, and I will never try to reason with a bully again.
 
The line not crossed
In a more recent instance, one in which I stood up for myself in a much healthier and kinder way, I was asked by another client to start a project over the holidays. Problem was, I had already planned to take several days off, and I had given this client plenty of notice.
 
I firmly but nicely said no, I ain’t gonna do it. I told them I could pick it up the following week, but not before. As a freelance media consultant, I don’t get to take days off like normal people, unless I leave town. A staycation day or two is a huge luxury, and (as evidenced by my blowup with the caterer) I really needed the break.
 
I felt a little guilty for handing back the project to my client (I knew someone else was going to get saddled with it if I turned it down), but ultimately, I knew that setting this professional boundary was the right thing to do for my mental health. I want to be accessible to my clients, but I am no use to them if I am burned out.
 
Finding a balance
Speaking of burnout, I learned that part of the reason I was feeling like a stressed, exhausted, crazy person was a decline in my estrogen, aka the beginnings of menopause. To all the women who came before me, I am so sorry I made fun of you. It is fucking miserable. Hot flashes are just the beginning. I had no idea.
 
I could write an entire blog on the horrors of my hormonal imbalance, but I won’t put you through that right now. Suffice to say, the insomnia and anxiety had gotten so severe that I finally made an appointment with my doctor. Deep breathing, melatonin and heavy exercise were just not cutting it anymore.
 
I decided I ain’t doing the change of life without some damn medication. Hormone replacement therapy for me is a full-blown Christmas miracle — I feel about a thousand times calmer, and I am sleeping like a rock. My hot flashes are barely warm fuzzies. It is glorious. 
 
Fight for your right
On the subject of doctors and health care (albeit a slight digression), I am at the end of my rope with all the bullshit. I can appreciate that the ACA has allowed a lot of people to get health coverage who otherwise might not have been able to do so. But I can tell you that the average middle-class Joe like me, who makes a decent living but still has student loans, a mortgage and other debt, is getting fucked by the system.
 
I was faced with only one option for an individual health plan for 2018, and it is nearly twice the cost for half the coverage of my policy last year (and it was by no means awesome). Case in point, one of my medications, which I have been taking since 2001, is not covered unless my doctor can demonstrate we have tried everything else. They want me to stop taking what I know works so I can try other stuff that probably doesn’t. What a crock of shit.
 
I realize there is only so much I can do when it comes to the health care system, but there are definitely things I ain’t doin’ anymore. I am not going to agree to any treatment until I know exactly how much it’s going to cost me when it’s all said and done. I recently asked for a breakdown on the cost of lab tests BEFORE I let them stick me so I would know how to budget for the final bill.
 
Also, I am not going to accept a prescription that my insurance won’t pay for. My doctor originally prescribed a brand new gel for my aforementioned hormone replacement, and of course my insurance rejected it. It took almost three days to get something else approved. I will check on the front end and not trust my doctor’s office to be looking out for my pocketbook.  Basically, I ain’t going to be an uninformed sheep health care consumer anymore!!!
 
Well, that escalated quickly, didn’t it? Sheesh.
 
Anyhoo, it’s liberating to take a stand and set boundaries, but that’s enough for now. I’m sure there are many more things I will discover I ain’t doin’ in the future. Stay tuned!

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