Stop Taking Advantage Of Me

Stop Taking Advantage Of Me

I'm your friend, not a doormat.

I found a flaw in myself. I take on too many things and too many responsibilities that I overwhelm myself and don't have enough time to recover from one activity and move on to the next. I'm the person that people come to when they need help, and no, that isn't my flaw. I'm the person that people know they can depend on; that isn't it either. I'm the person that can never say no; bingo, that's my problem. Even though I can barely take care of myself, I'm still taking care of the people I love.

When a new opportunity in my life arises, I always take it. I take every single one that comes my way because I never know when or if the next one will come to me. I never viewed this as a bad thing until I started running out of hours in the day. With the fewer hours that I had to myself, the more of myself I lost. I became depressed. I became depressed but I'm still taking on all of these daily challenges that were once opportunities that I can't find it in myself to let go of now that they are more stress than peace.

I just want some help. Lately that's all I've been asking for with my friends and family. I just want someone to come with me to the grocery store. I just want someone to spend the night with me. I just want someone to help with chores, or take my dog for a walk, or cook a dinner with me. I'm not asking for much, but at this point, I just feel desperate. I don't feel like I'm getting what I deserve, nor what I need to continue on with all of these stresses in my life. I don't know why I'm on my hands and knees begging for these things. It hurts me. My heart hurts.

I'm starting to realize that I don't say no to things because I've always had a terrific support system behind me. But where are they now? Why am I always the one to go out of my way to make sure that everyone else is taken care of, but now that I need someone to help me, they're all gone? I'm still saying yes to taking on new things, but the circle of people behind me is minimal. I fear that at one point, I'm going to stop saying yes, and stop being me.

I've never denied anyone help if they asked for it. I have never said no to any of my friends who needed a place to stay, a meal to eat, or someone to spend time with. I have always been there, and everyone has gotten used to it. The more and more lonely I get, the more I feel like these are flaws about me, too.

I love being everything I am. I love doing everything I do. I just don't love when I finally realize that I'm being taken advantage of. Relationships and friendships are supposed to be two sided. You give some. You take some. You work as a team.

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3 Reasons Why Step Dads Are Super Dads


I often hear a lot of people complaining about their step-parents and wondering why they think that they have any authority over them. Although I know that everyone has different situations, I will be the first to admit that I am beyond blessed to have a step dad. Yep, I said it. My life wouldn't be the same that it is not without him in it. Let me tell you why I think step dads are the greatest things since sliced bread.

1. They will do anything for you, literally.

My stepdad has done any and every thing for me. From when I was little until now. He was and still is my go-to. If I was hungry, he would get me food. If something was broken, he would fix it. If I wanted something, he would normally always find a way to get it. He didn't spoil me (just sometimes), but he would make sure that I was always taken care of.

SEE ALSO: The Thank You That Step-Parents Deserve

2. Life lessons.

Yup, the tough one. My stepdad has taught me things that I would have never figured out on my own. He has stood beside me through every mistake. He has been there to pick me up when I am down. My stepdad is like the book of knowledge: crazy hormonal teenage edition. Boy problems? He would probably make me feel better. He just always seemed to know what to say. I think that the most important lesson that I have learned from my stepdad is: to never give up. My stepdad has been through three cycles of leukemia. He is now in remission, yay!! But, I never heard him complain. I never heard him worry and I never saw him feeling sorry for himself. Through you, I found strength.

3. He loved me as his own.

The big one, the one that may seem impossible to some step parents. My stepdad is not actually my stepdad, but rather my dad. I will never have enough words to explain how grateful I am for this man, which is why I am attempting to write this right now. It takes a special kind of human to love another as if they are their own. There had never been times where I didn't think that my dad wouldn't be there for me. It was like I always knew he would be. He introduces me as his daughter, and he is my dad. I wouldn't have it any other way. You were able to show me what family is.

So, dad... thanks. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for being strong. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for loving my mom. Thanks for giving me a wonderful little sister. Thanks for being someone that I can count on. Thanks for being my dad.

I love you!

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Batter Up

Because someone needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat a woman.


I have this memory from when I was younger,

I must have been six, maybe seven? An age

When you can remember, but not quite

Understand. I remember the landline

Ringing sometime in the middle

Of the night in my grandmother's small,

But adequate house. I had been sleeping,

Tucked under a shield of satin covers,

My grandmother next to me, blanketless,

And stiff, on the very edge of the queen mattress

Like she was anticipating some sort of disaster.

It wasn't the phone that pulled me from my sleep,

It was my grandmother's instant jerk, her eyes

Flipping open quicker than a light switch,

The mattress springing back up, adjusting

To the new lightness as she fled the room. My waking

Was soft like a song. Slow and humane.

My eyes adjusting to the dark, my ears absorbing the ringing,

My mind reminding itself that I was at my grandmother's house.

Then, the ringing stopped;

Abrupt, like a disarmed fire alarm.

It was just a drill, I thought.

But, then I heard the mumbling

From behind the door, panicked mumbling.

Rapid, like gunfire. My grandmother's Rs

Rolling down the hallway and under the door crack.

She only spoke Spanish when she was angry.

The call ended, my grandmother returned to the room,

Wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the night.

She buckled me into the backseat of her Toyota and said,

We were going to Auntie Mandy's house because someone

Needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat

A woman.

When we arrived at the house, we found the front door

Wide open, the house lights spilling out onto the porch.

A truck, I had seen once before, was parked a foot away

From the front door, aggressive. The truck had trampled

Over the dandelions and daisies, which lay wounded

In the front yard. A scene that begged for investigation.

My grandmother told me to stay put in my seat.

I watched as she walked to the back of the car, her normally pretty

Face turned straight, looked masculine. I watched as she pulled

Something wooden out of her trunk, then in her feline walk,

Approached the house. She turned to me, and I saw the

Baseball bat, immense in her female hands.

I slouched in my seat, the window above my head.

I never saw her go into the house.

I don't remember how long I sat,

Until the red and blue lights came.

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