I'm Not Surprised You Think I'm A B*tch, But I Truly Am Sorry

by Michaelle LeManne Lamb
file404 / Shutterstock

It’s been brought to my attention recently that I have the tendency to come off “a little bitchy” sometimes. I will bluntly translate that into knowing that some people think I’m a bitch. It’s fair enough, and probably true.

But I’d like to offer an apology to those I’ve offended when I truly am trying to be nice.

I’m sorry I was late — yet again — and you took that as a sign of disrespect. But as I was on my way out the door, I had to change my 8-year-old stepdaughter’s poopy diaper. While we have made some significant strides in potty training, her autism has thus far prevented her from fully understanding her body’s cues. But we remain hopeful.

I’m sorry if I seem flippant while you excitedly talk to me about your new puppy, but my husband lost his job this summer. While he has fantastic and highly employable skills, the economy sucks and I worry.

I’m sorry if I seem irritable for no reason, but I was diagnosed with bipolar type 2, severe depression, and an anxiety disorder during my last very wanted pregnancy. I am constantly battling an internal war to be happy and cheerful, as on the outside it looks like I have all the reasons in the world to be just that.

I’m sorry if I promised I would read this, look at that post, go to that workshop, or take that class with you. But I am trying to put all I can into my business within the pockets of time that remain when all is said and done.

I’m sorry if I haven’t responded to your text for almost a week, but I was mired down in dealing with three sets of exes, parents, and stepparents, trying to sort a Christmas holiday schedule that appeases everyone. Yes, I fully understand it is only September.

I’m sorry, good friend, if I snapped at you for canceling plans for a perfectly good reason, but it was like navigating Anna Karenina in Russian (yup, still occupying space on my “when I have some free time” reading list) coordinating the babysitters for all four kids in the first place — now a wasted effort. Oh, and I was really looking forward to the break.

I’m sorry I seem like I’m in a daze and cannot feign the enthusiasm at all the things I used to. But sometimes, days are about putting one foot in front of the other when each foot feels like it weighs about 500 pounds.

I’m trying to enjoy my 1 1/2-year-old daughter’s fleeting toddler years and cheeky personality, and my 9-year-old’s passion and wonder for all that is hockey. I’m trying to help develop my 8-year-old autistic stepdaughter’s life skills and revel in the awe with which she sees the simple things.

I’m trying to be sensitive to my burgeoning teenage stepson, who at 13 is a great big brother and only wants to help. I’m trying to be the wife that my husband needs, all the while trying to feed my creative soul that is screaming for nourishment. I’m trying to remain optimistic, but some days just plain suck, and I can’t be everything to everyone. Some days I can barely be me.

Frankly, if I were you, I’d think I was a bitch too. And to all those who want to continue to engage in that narrative, it’s okay. I completely understand.

But to all the friends, family, and close group who love the bitch who lives within, thank you. I really am just trying to be nice.