Why Do I Justify A Damn Thing?

I don’t know if it’s partly a GenX thing, but I’ve recently become aware how often I automatically justify myself to others.

Even if they didn’t ask for it or expect me to justify anything.

To give you some background if you’re new here:

2019 was a year of financial ruin after a big client screwed me out of many thousands of dollars. My brain broke while we were in the middle of a lawsuit. I agreed to settle for not even close to what I’d have won if we went to court. I was too sick to go on with it.

Early 2020, a long-awaited MRI confirmed that my brain and spinal cord had been gleefully and extensively damaged by multiple sclerosis.

Then within a week or two, the pandemic was declared and I work in the event space. Not only was I physically unable to work, there were no events that I could even send others out to work while I tried to figure life out.

For two years, my husband worked 96 hour weeks to support us and pay for the benefits that helped cover the medications I needed. Physiotherapy, walking aids, etc. aren’t cheap. A GoFundMe campaign raised a lot of money from former patients and clients to help pay for an intensive recovery program, and I love them for that.

My husband, I’m sure, had an exhausting couple years. Not only was he working the equivalent of two full time jobs, but any time off was spent driving me to the city for appointments and procedures, plus taking over the bulk of errands and household tasks. Not that he ever said a word, but how could it not have been brutal?

About a year and a half ago, he got a full-time job that pays better with less hours, a job he’s wanted for years and one he likes a lot.

I was able to start tiptoeing back to work last year as the world reopened to large events. This year we’re already fully booked from June to September and we don’t even have our Stampede events yet. I can finally go back to work by myself for smaller, short-term contracts after I solved my problem of being unable to carry 75lbs of paramedic equipment. (You can check out that story here, I highly recommend everyone gets one regardless of physical abilities!)

So here comes the part that makes me really uncomfortable:

My husband and I are doing well financially, for now. (We’ve certainly learned that things can change in an instant and nothing is forever.) Despite the insane inflation, (corporate gouging) we have the money for all our necessities and some extras. I’m able to buy anything I want off Amazon or at the grocery store, and I don’t have to worry if my debit card is going to be declined. I have no worries I’m going to run out of money before I run out of month. We aren’t struggling as many others are thanks to lucky circumstances and perfect timing in my life falling apart how and when it did.

I feel the need to justify that.

Rational me doesn’t need to justify it because my husband and I are in our mid-forties and he’s always worked a lot his entire adult life. I was a workaholic until my brain broke. We worked, we hustled, we were always grinding as the kids say. Why shouldn’t we enjoy the fruits of our labours for however long it lasts?

But the fact remains, I have a knee-jerk reaction of wanting to justify myself or my life.

Maybe it’s partly being Gen X raised by Baby Boomer parents, one of whom is an immigrant. It seems that in itself is a whole thing, according to my friends also raised by immigrant parents. Where they immigrated from doesn’t seems to make much difference.

We shouldn’t talk about good things happening in our lives, that’s boastful. The harder things in your life are, the more worth you have as a person. If you worked hard for something, you don’t take time to relax and enjoy it and be grateful. You work harder. Don’t be uppity, nobody likes that. Well, someone thinks they’re something special. Don’t be such a princess. Suck it up, you think you’ve got it rough?

Must be nice.

I can’t think of a phrase that I hate more than, “must be nice.” To me, it is the snidest, most passive aggressive, and mean-spirited phrase you could use.

And you know what, Snarkypotomous? It IS nice, so die mad about it.

I mentioned in conversation to someone a little while ago that I couldn’t make plans for this Monday because the housekeepers were coming, but next Monday was completely open. They might have raised an eyebrow a scant millimetre or maybe they had no response at all. I went on to justify myself anyway.

“Two ladies come every other week for a couple hours to do chores I can’t safely do anymore. It really helps me out.”

And I have a limited amount of energy. I don’t particularly feel like spending it all on scrubbing a shower, truth be told.

Why was I making it anyone else’s business? How come I felt so ashamed about having a housekeeper? Why did I feel like I didn’t deserve to have a housekeeper, or have the means to hire help?

I also tried to justify the fact that in the past month, we paid a company to clean up 6 months of dog feces left by 4 dogs in our yard and now we pay about ten bucks once a week for them to clean up after our one remaining dog, who happens to be 80 lbs.

My husband did the usual, “Babe, I was going to do it. I’ll take care of it.”

But I was having none of it. The yard and dog run hadn’t been cleaned in nearly 6 months, the dog was out of places to go to the bathroom, so at some point he was going to start tracking nastiness into the house. I’d have a difficult time cleaning it and…gross.

I didn’t feel a need to justify it to him because he never judges me.

You work 48hours a week plus commute two hours each day. We’re middle-aged, I’m disabled, and we have enough money right now to pay people to do the things we don’t want to do, so let’s do that.”

But I felt I had to justify how I’m spending ten bucks a week to a random person who commented on how nice our yard looked already, given that until recently we had a house full of dogs.

If we can afford to pay someone to do the bulk of the housework, why wouldn’t we? It’s not like we didn’t work our asses off for it, and I’m grateful we have the means to do it. If I can relax instead of scrubbing toilets or trying to pick up dog crap, why shouldn’t I? I wish everyone could spend more time relaxing instead of doing mundane chores

The urge to justify things is related to shame, even though I only realized recently that’s what I felt fairly often. It took me a long time to figure out what its name was. Did I feel shame because I’d done something wrong, or I was a bad person, or I’d maliciously hurt someone? Nope.

I felt shame because I’m a spoiled rotten princess incapable of doing things for myself. Too good to scrub my own toilets or pick up waste from my own dog.

Of course, with some help I was able to figure out where that was coming from, and it’s just something else I picked up that I need to unlearn because it’s dumb AF.

Or as my counsellor would say, “It doesn’t serve you any longer.”

Tomato, tomahhhto.

Dumb AF or doesn’t serve me any longer, the wording doesn’t matter. What matters is I don’t need to justify anything to anybody, and I’m going to break myself of the habit.

I have the time, since I’m able to pay people to do the housework for me. I’m grateful I can do that, and it doesn’t make me less of a good person that I do. If the fact that I don’t scrub my toilets anymore is the worst thing about me as a human being, I’m completely okay with it.