Lessons From the Dark Side - An Unofficial Survival Guide for Chaotic Adults.
- Loretta & David Allseitz
- Dec 3
- 7 min read
Updated: Dec 15
Welcome to the Unofficial Survival Guide for Chaotic Adults —the ones who learned early that being “nice” is how you get stepped on, and being “a little dark” is how you stop getting stepped on.
If you’re here, I’m going to assume a few things:
You trust morally gray characters more than you trust “good guys.”
You get physically ill when someone says “positive vibes only.”
You’ve said “one drink” and then needed electrolytes, tacos, and a spiritual reset.
You’ve seen enough small-town chaos to know the loudest “nice” people usually hide the nastiest secrets.
And you don’t scare easily… unless someone cheerfully says, “I’m a morning person! 😊”
If any of that hits?
Congratulations — you’re not the problem. You’re just not built for the light side.
(They have glitter and delusion. We have sarcasm, eyeliner, problem-solving, and vodka.)
This series is where I break down the real survival lessons I’ve learned from:
writing Texas thrillers full of liars, secrets, and “bless your heart” level hypocrisy
living life with a feral smartass mouth and no tolerance for bullshit
dealing with cheerful people who try to reset your personality like you’re a broken iPhone
running a villain-aesthetic brand from a place where Santa and crime scenes share the same zip code
and surviving more questionable decisions than a golf cart, a Jäger bottle, and a county-wide power outage combined
Think of this series as:
🔪 Self-help for morally gray adults
☕ Therapy for the unhinged but still paying bills
🌑 A psychological deep-dive into the dark side you tried to hide
🎄 A holiday survival guide for anti-cheer personalities
💀 And finally, the permission slip to stop pretending you're soft
Every post is one Lesson — a truth-bomb designed to make you say:
“Damn… she’s right. I never thought of it that way.”
This won’t be gentle.
It won’t be sweet.
And it definitely won’t be “light side approved.”
We don’t sugarcoat reality here.
We roll it in sarcasm, grit, black eyeliner, and a touch of spite —and then we serve it like a shot of whiskey at a questionable Texas bar.
Now let’s begin with Lesson #1 —and trust me…
You’re going to feel seen in ways you didn’t ask for.
LESSON #1 — Your Dark Traits Aren’t Flaws. They’re Survival Adaptations.
AKA: You’re not “too much.” People are just too used to doormats, and you walked in as a damn electric fence.
Let’s start with a truth most people won’t say out loud:
You didn’t become “cold,” “blunt,” “unbothered,” “cynical,” or “emotionally selective” because you’re broken. You became that way because life handed you a parade of clowns, manipulators, users, and disappointments…and your brain said:
“Okay, enough of THAT shit!”
What you call your “dark traits”— the ones “nice” people tell you are bad —are actually the exact adaptations that kept you from being steamrolled by the world.
So let’s break this down, dark-side style...
Suspicion Isn’t Toxic — It’s Pattern Recognition
People love to call cautious people “paranoid.”
No, sweetheart. You’re experienced.
Suspicion isn’t a flaw. It’s what happens when you learned early:
people lie
masks slip
and anyone can act right for 30 days
Suspicion isn’t fear. It’s intel. It’s emotional night vision.
The light side calls it “trust issues.”
The dark side calls it “not getting screwed twice.”
Detachment Isn’t Coldness — It’s Emotional CPR
You didn’t become detached because you don’t feel.
You became detached because you felt TOO MUCH for TOO LONG with the WRONG PEOPLE.
Detachment means:
you don’t chase
you don’t beg
you don’t perform
you don’t force connections
and you sure as hell don’t tolerate nonsense
Detachment protects your peace like razor wire.
And honestly? More people need it.
Pettiness Isn’t Immaturity — It’s Data Storage
Everyone loves to say “just let it go.”
But your brain?
Your brain said:
“Actually, we’re going to file that under ‘Never forget this bullshit.’”
Pettiness isn’t vengeance.
It’s accountability.
It’s remembering exactly who someone showed you they were.
Nice people forget and repeat the same patterns.
Dark-siders take notes and adjust accordingly.
Bluntness Isn’t Rude — It’s Efficiency
Regular people: “I didn’t like how she said it.”
Dark-side people: “Did you hear WHAT she said though??”
Bluntness is clarity.
It eliminates miscommunication.
It cuts through bullshit.
And let’s be honest —half the people who call you rude are just mad they can’t manipulate you anymore.
“Cold” Isn’t Heartless — It’s Boundary Enforcement
You’re not cold.
You just decided that other people’s chaos is not your emergency.
“Cold” is what people call you when you stop doing unpaid emotional labor for free.
Cold is peace.
Cold is clarity.
Cold is the temperature required to stop letting people drain you dry.
Dark Humor Isn’t Immaturity — It’s Resilience
If you can laugh at trauma, inconvenience, disaster, heartbreak, and pure chaos…you’re not insensitive.
You’re a survivor who learned how to metabolize life without imploding.
Dark humor doesn’t mean you don’t care.
It means you learned to release pressure before you explode like a shaken beer can.
THE SCENARIO — The Holiday Ambush
It’s the holidays.
You show up to the family gathering because you thought:
“It can’t be that bad this year.”
Bless your heart.
Hope is adorable.
You walk in with a pie like an innocent civilian entering a war zone.
Within 14 seconds someone has already announced:
“Ooooh, look who finally decided to show up.”
Great. We’re starting strong.
You get your coat halfway off before the interrogation begins.
Aunt Linda fires the first shot:
“We’ve all just been worried about you.”
Worried? Ma’am, you didn’t even “like” my last birthday post.
Then Cousin Brittany — who’s on her 4th fiancé and 8th “new life chapter” — jumps in with: “You’ve seemed really cold lately.”
Oh, have I? Maybe because the last time I opened up, this family played Emotional Telephone with my trauma.
Uncle Mike chimes in from his La-Z-Boy throne:
“You’re too blunt. Lighten up.”
Sir, you once threw a lawn chair at a barbecue because someone burned the brisket. Sit down.
Then Grandma, clutching her pearls like she’s auditioning for Steel Magnolias, gives the kill shot: “I just don’t understand why you’re so distant lately.”
I do. I understand PERFECTLY.
At this point you realize:
You didn’t walk into a holiday dinner.
You walked into a surprise intervention hosted by people who haven’t texted you in 9 months.
The old you?
Would’ve panicked.
Explained.
People-pleased.
Gone home stress-eating fudge and tequila.
But THIS version of you?
The dark-side version?
She’s already rolling up her sleeves.
Suspicion: Which one of you started this? Show yourself.
Detachment: None of this is my emergency.
Bluntness: If I speak, somebody’s feelings will need CPR.
Coldness: I don’t even live in this room emotionally anymore.
Dark humor: If I laugh, Grandma might faint.
So you set down the pecan pie, look around the room, and say:
“I keep my distance because every time I visit, y’all treat me like a group project I didn’t sign up for.”
Silence.
You could hear a deviled egg drop.
Then you add (calmly, politely, psychotically):
“I’m not here to manage your emotions, justify my boundaries, or be grilled like the Christmas ham. I came for food and peace. If you want a real conversation, cool. If not, drop it.”
Aunt Linda blinks like someone unplugged her.
Uncle Mike sips his beer in fear.
Brittany suddenly remembers she left the oven on.
Grandma whispers a prayer.
They weren’t ready.
But your dark traits?
They were built for this.
And THAT is why your “dark side” isn’t mean —it’s survival.
You’ve seen how the dark side handles family drama.
Now let’s see how you handle a late-night emotional dumpster fire.
SURVIVAL QUIZ
Dark-side pop quiz time!
Let’s see if you choose survival…
or collapse like a $4 Walmart lawn chair the second a guilt-flinging adult child decides your boundaries are “rude.”
THE QUIZ SCENARIO — The “Emergency” That Isn’t Yours
It’s 10:47 PM.
You’re finally settled in — candles lit, comfy clothes on, snacks ready, main character energy activated.
Then your phone explodes with a paragraph-long text from someone who ALWAYS has drama: “I REALLY need to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”
Your heartbeat spikes.
You think someone died.
You grab your phone like you’re about to call 911…
And then you read the follow-up messages:
“He posted a selfie with another girl.”
“I think my boss hates me.”
“My landlord’s being unfair again.”
“Can you call me? I’m freaking out.”
Ah.
So the “emergency” is just their weekly chaos episode disguised as actual danger.
Classic.
You sit there holding your phone, thinking:
Why am I the emergency contact for someone who doesn’t even take my advice?
Why did you drag my nervous system into your drama without permission?
And why are you having a meltdown at 10:47 PM when you had ALL DAY to spiral??
Your dark side wakes up like:
“This is a setup. Choose wisely.”
Because you KNOW:
If you pick up the phone, you’re trapped for 90 minutes.
They’re not going to fix anything.
You’ll lose sleep while they go eat pizza and pass out like nothing happened.
And by tomorrow? They’ll be repeating the same behavior anyway.
Congrats, you’re on the edge of a survival decision.
THE QUESTION:
What’s the actual DARK-SIDE survival move here?
Choose carefully:
A) Call them immediately and absorb the emotional tornado, because you’re “being a good friend.”
(Translation: sacrifice your sanity so they can feel temporarily soothed.)
B) Text back,
“I’m not available to talk tonight. Can you tell me what type of emergency it is?”(Provides boundaries + clarity + no open door.)
C) Respond with,
“Please summarize the situation in one message.”(Forces them to organize their chaos instead of dumping it on you.)
D) Put your phone on Do Not Disturb, finish your snacks, and go to bed like an emotionally stable raccoon.
(Full dark-side mastery.)
COMMENT YOUR PICK — the actual dark-side answer gets revealed at the start of the next lesson. Try not to embarrass yourself.
-Loretta
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