Z is for Zip

I tend to keep my mouth zipped shut most of the time. I listen way more than I talk. I think that may be why people like me. I am a really good listener, I don't usually interrupt, and I do genuinely care. Well, most of the time.

Zipping it shut hurts me sometimes, though. Like what I wrote last time, about not being able to talk to my therapist. I did some soul-searching and remembered when I was about four and told my mom something my dad did and she said I shouldn't say things like that and made me go apologize to him. For abusing me. This is why I don't talk.
                      
But yeah, keeping my mouth zipped is bad sometimes. There is a person in my life who tends to say really hurtful things, and I say nothing. Just let it slide. Maybe I should have spoken up and told her I didn't appreciate her rude comments, but instead, I choose to distance myself. I mean, I have friends who are nice to me. I don't need to hang around the mean ones.

The scary part is, what she said to me was almost exactly what Ex said to me on the fateful New Year's Day about if I would only try harder, I could get more done. This, when I had three part-time jobs, a foster dog, a cat, and was in my last semester (so super-hard classes) of my chemistry degree. Now, when I have two part-time jobs I'm quitting (so I'm in two-week notice stage), one full-time job, two dogs, a house that needs a ton of work, and three classes at school.
                       
Maybe she's right. I mean, I'm sitting here writing, when I could be working. Although I just got home from one job and am about to leave for therapy and am sitting here holding my little dog while I type. And I worked all weekend. And I worked on a magazine project that is due Tuesday that no one else in my group is contributing toward. And I'm doing laundry.

Damn, I'm lazy.