Faux Paso Doble (it's clever if you know ballroom dancing)

Hey, remember back in 2009 when a reporter from Wonderland magazine asked Megan Fox to talk about director Michael Bay and after dabbling in a few Napoleon insults, she instead compared the director to Hitler? Remember when the world collectively told her to shut the fuck up and have some goddamn decency and then she wasn't asked back to the Transformers franchise and we all began to slowly but surely not give a rat's ass about her? 

Yeah, well, apparently Dancing with the Stars' Cheryl Burke was off somewhere fucking around when all of that went down. Because some-fucking-how we've got another thoughtless, disrespectful and intolerable celebrity making the same kind of paralyzingly asinine remarks.

Sunday during an interview on the "Allegedly With Theo Von & Matthew Cole" podcast, Cheryl Burke was asked who her least favorite celebrity partner was on DWTS. Now, other more seasoned celebrities (and human beings) wouldn't have fallen for this cheap attempt at gossip journalism. Instead of answering, someone more experienced or simply smarter would've refrained and moved on to a different topic. Someone braver might've even called the interviewer out on the low-rate question that shouldn't be regarded as journalism. 

And here is when a thoughtless and ignorant decision to answer a subpar and adolescent question takes a turn into "are you fucking kidding me with this shit" territory.

Instead of deflecting, not only did Burke answer said question but she went on to say that working with Beverly Hills, 90210 star Ian Ziering made her want to slit her wrists. She said she considered jumping off a balcony to injure herself and did so with any partner she was given over the age of 65 (save for Wayne Newton).

You know, I realize that even though it's the year 2016, we've still got quite a way to go on our journey to understanding mental health. I get that there are still a lot of people who don't "believe" in psychiatry and think that issues of this nature are made up, bogus or even worse. And I realize that taking medication for these types of issues is still fairly high on the universal stigma meter. 

I am pretty sure, however, that we've most definitely reached a time when people tend not to joke about committing suicide all that often anymore. Most people, save from a certain breed of schoolyard bully, are in total agreement that making light of the topic of suicide is pretty much completely abhorrent and fucking inexcusable. 

Now, I'm not sure exactly what Cheryl Burke was doing the day that fucking memo went out. I'm assuming it was something like kicking puppies or stealing delicious candy from tiny, tiny babies. Maybe she was telling Make-A-Wish kids that once when she was their age, she swallowed a piece of gum and thought she was going to die so she knew what they were going through. All of these things seem like viable possibilities. 

Cheryl Burke has since apologized for her comments and admits that she was "out of line" in her remarks. And kudos to her for listening to her publicist when the poor fucker called her thirty seconds after the sound waves carrying her words reached a human being's ears. But I wonder if she's really thought about the greater damage that she's done. She's helping to reinforce to those people who are struggling directly with this issue the idea that no one cares about what they're going through. She's diluting the very meaning of the words themselves -- words that should strike a chord when someone hears them. And then there's the more personal level. Just based on numbers alone, there is an almost certain chance that Cheryl Burke knows someone that is or has struggled with suicide, whether she knows it or not. She's admitted to having friends and family that struggle with depression and yet she somehow thought that making light of this issue, with a goddamn microphone in her face, was a totally okay and not at all completely insensitive and disrespectful thing to do. Does she seriously think that some half-assed apology that rings with the truth of a politician's smile is going to repair the damage caused by her callous and incomprehensibly self-absorbed remarks? Does she really even care? Doubtful.  

Hopefully Cheryl Burke will somehow learn from this, although one has to wonder how prepared her brain is for the learning process. I think reading her words, straight from the horse's ass, really puts into perspective just how adolescent and fucking stereotypically "Heather" this 26 year old perpetual Mean Girl is:

"My least favorite [partner] would be Ian Ziering. The fact that his name is not EE-AN and it's EYE-AN makes me want to throw up."

"By the way, I also don't know anybody, so I would have to Google almost every single partner of mine, other than Ian Ziering because I used to watch 90210," she shared. “My mom, my crazy Asian mother, would let me watch an hour a week, and I would watch 90210, 8 p.m. on Wednesdays. I'm like, 'Why, couldn't you give me Luke Perry or Jason Priestley? Why you give me that guy?' I know he's on 90210, but give me Screech [Saved by the Bell actor Dustin Diamond]."

"I mean, I could try and hurt myself," she said. "I thought about that a couple of times. I've got a balcony and was like, 'Should I jump?'...I wouldn't die. I wouldn't die. No. I wouldn't die. I would just be like, 'Hey guys, I'm injured this season. I won't be able to come back 'til next season.'"

"Anyone over the age of 65 I wanted to jump," she added, although she was quick to note that her season five partner, 74-year-old Wayne Newton, was 'lovely'."

She's a real fucking class act, isn't she?

Now, I'm guessing she'll have more learning opportunities than normal right now. She'll probably have plenty of chances to practice not saying stupid-ass shit with the overwhelming number of pseudo-journalists that are sure to beat down her door in the next couple of weeks, hoping for a new nugget of insensitivity and brainlessness.

No matter what, though, I think Cheryl will be able to take this experience and use it to better her relationships with future dancing partners. After all, she probably sees much clearer now how easy it is to lose your footing, misstep and really stick your foot in it. 

HA! Just kidding! She hasn't learned shit. 

Personally, I think the real kicker -- what Alanis Morisette might call "ironic" -- is that if this happened in the 90s, good old Cheryl would be sitting in front of the TV, Wednesday at 8:00, to watch Steve Sanders and company doing a very special episode of 90210 to address fallout from this whole disgusting event.

Life

Life almost never goes your way. There are people that will tell you that's not true and those people are either naive, stupid or use the word "blessed" too often. Now there isn't anything wrong with people who focus on the positives in life, other than we all want to strangle them most of the time. But for those people who understand that life can be an uphill struggle from start to finish but still be totally worth it and rewarding know differently. 

I don't like to talk too personally about people other than myself on here so just for the sake of this blog, let's just say that some really shitty stuff has happened lately with my family. When something like this happens, something that is polarizing even for a short period of time and will possibly change your life going forward, what do we do to make sure that we don't lose ourselves through the course of events and fallout? How do we not get buried under all of the details and how do we learn to take care of ourselves when we're devoting most of our time and attention to other, necessary, things? 

I pretty much have no answers. Some moments, I feel like I'm lucky to have even thought of the questions. 

I've mentioned before that I struggle with anxiety and depression, so too often my instinct is to hide inside of myself whenever possible. I become a pro at handling information-based communication but breakdown almost entirely if things get too personal, losing the ability to speak frankly about my thoughts and feelings. I find that in order to properly handle all of the important things that need to get done, I have to sacrifice other areas that take too much of my energy. 

I don't know if this is the right thing to do, I just know it's what I need to do in order to get done what needs to get done. My husband says I'm handling things well. He calls me the strongest person he knows (because he's wonderful) but it definitely doesn't feel like it. I'm freaked out most of the time and am only starting to realize that every single day, I feel like a life amateur. 

There's been no stage that I've been prepared for, life-wise. I didn't know what I was doing at all when I was a kid. Being a kid is like running in brand new dress shoes, across freshly Zambonied ice on legs made of those peel-apart Twizzlers. You will literally never be stable or understand a goddamn thing that is happening to you and hopefully you'll laugh and scream and have fun through most of it.  And honestly, not too much has changed for me since. Each stage of my life has been a surprise and almost nothing like I expected. High School was both exactly like and fucking light years away from a John Hughes movie. I was a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a criminal and a princess but I'll tell you that I never once sat in detention gabbing and learning from my peers all day while we played music and danced and snuck around the school only to be indelibly bonded to them for life. That never ever happened. College, for me, was ridiculously more vast and life-changing than I ever thought it would be -- and I went in thinking it was gonna be huge. My twenties were seriously like almost the exact opposite of how I imagined them. Nothing I did felt at all sure-footed and literally no part ended up with any permanence in the long hall, save for getting my dogs and making some truly amazing friends. And my thirties, honest-to-God, ranged from "what the fuck, are you kidding me?" to "how in the fucking hell did I get here?" And that's on both the good and bad side of things. 

I'm starting to think that the moment you really grow up is when you stop trying to convince everyone that you know what you're doing. Not at work, we all have to fake it there, but in general. When we can actually say out loud that all we're doing in trying our best but are really only guessing at the right things to do -- that's when we earn the term "adult". It's not about understanding anything better or achieving some sort of experiential status. It's just about being honest with ourselves, first and foremost, and then with everyone else about the fact that -- for the most part -- we don't know fuck all about like 95% of everything. And most of that 5% that we do know are like Beatles lyrics, Friends quotes and where the best donut place is near our home.

Some days, I do wish I knew a little bit more about what I was doing. Okay, every day I wish I knew more. The lack of confidence during tough times can get scary, especially when people are counting on you. Right now, I'm finding that panic attacks are a part of my daily life but I'm also finding that I get through them every single day. I'm leaving the house knowing full well that I'll probably have to deal with one sooner rather than later and in my parked car instead of in the safety of my home, where no one can see me. But you know what? I'm still leaving the house. I'm still doing what I need to do. I'm still hanlding my shit like a semi-pro (life amateur status still intact) and I'm still muscling through and staring in the face all of the things that make me twitch. 

So, maybe my husband is right. Maybe I am stronger than I think. Maybe it's not about how scared I am or how many days in a row I have a panic attack or how there are some moments that I feel like the smallest, tiniest speck of light in the world and that everything around me is working to snuff me out. Maybe it's just that I keep going. Maybe it's just that I close my eyes and gather my strength and do what needs to be done. I have my go-to's and my rituals and my panic attack evacuation procedures and maybe it's just that I use them everyday and I don't allow myself to give up at life. Maybe it's that I've learned to accept help from people who care about me and, for me, that's almost harder to do than anything. 

So, maybe I will be okay. Maybe I'll even be good. And maybe my dreams will still come true even though it feels like there's no room for them right now. Maybe I won't give up all over again, every single day, and I'll choose the only life for myself that I've ever understood. 

Cause I may not know what I'm doing but I do know that the world needs me. I do know that no one has exactly what I have to offer. And I guess strength, a lot of the time, is just being able to say that and really mean it.