The F Word!

_m66oe5SjTh1qj7piio1_500I’ve dealt with a lot of shit at my job. As you, all might have had at your own jobs. I mean who hasn’t been yelled at by a customer. Even after try to help them, with whatever they need. However, today the shit hit the fan…hard. I don’t want to get into details, because I would be here. All night writing a novel, of said event. Let just say the argument end with a customer or, in my case a patient. Calling me a fag for not giving him/her the correct answer he/she wanted to hear. I’ve been called many things before in my lifetime. At work and out of work, but today was the first time. I’ve had someone call me the F word at work. The first time I was ever called the horrible name. Was by none other than my father. You see, I’ve never really had a good relationship with my dad. I was not he’s favorite kid. The special spot was reserved for my sister. I was more of the punching bag…literally. I was called many names, included fag and other cringe worthy names. That no parent should ever call their son/daughter. Who at a young age. Doesn’t even know who or what he/she is as a person. At a very young age. I don’t really want to get into an Oprah moment here, but let’s just say. My father was the definition of pure evil. Every time I hear that word or any other hurtful and homophobic word. It reminds me of that fat 10-year-old (I’m talking about me). Being yelled at in public, in front of my father’s friends. For not wanting to play football with the other kids. Instead, all I wanted to do; is sitting on the sidelines and eat my feeling, while crying.
I’m 31 years old now. I’m a man who knows; who he is and what I want to be (Even if it’s been a slow road to climb). However, the ten year old me, is still there. Deep down inside, with the physical and emotional scars to prove it. It’s sometimes pretty hard to shake off. However, it gets better day by day.

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