On Being Thrown Under the Bus

There was a day when, after being thrown under a bus (so to speak), I felt it was my place to lay there without too much squirming. My thought was that while I was thrown under a bus to protect someone else, I at least could bear the weight of the bus and so I should just do it and there would be much gratitude and indebtedness. And I would be rewarded for being willing to "take one for the team".

I was stupid.

The fact is, if you are thrown under the bus, you are thrown because they think you are light enough to throw and they think they can get away with it. And if you stay there, you will just die. And when you're dead, no one feels indebted. And you can't be part of any team.

I am no longer stupid.

After many hours of deep breathing I have polished that solid brass tiara of mine and placed it firmly on my head. Fitting, as it does, like a glove, it is there to remind everyone (and myself) that I am of the mind not to be meddled with.

It doesn't matter what the incident was to drive me to this anger and resolve, but suffice it to say that I have rolled out from under the bus, gotten into the driver's seat - and I'm about to take it for a little ride.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!