Ok. I’m going to give this a go. I am keyboardless and, as well as my fingers fly over an actual keyboard, is how NOT well the touch screen thing works for me. I’m awful at it. Which I think is partly the reason my ‘pay as you go’ cell phone terrifies me. The whole’ touch’ ‘swipe’ thingy combined with auto-correct, back up and do it again thing is like a bizarre millennial hokey pokey.
I didn’t want to open like this, and if I had a keyboard, it would start like this:
I’m scaring my dog.
Then it would go on to say:
She sticks close by, unsure of my current mood. Or, like yesterday, sticks close, positive of it.
I was alone and having one of the worst spells I’ve had in a while. Ms. Agnostic hit her knees and prayed “PLEASE don’t let me die right now. Not today.”
My heart was acting up big time. I could barely walk Butters. I took the three steps down to our yard and though, “oh my god, I can’t do this.”
But I had to do it. She needs me.
It was a quick walk around the yard, and when I came in, I felt like calling an ambulance. My face was flushed, heart pounding, dizzy. Yeah, taking the dog out to pee.
I know the difference between a ‘spell’ and my ever-increasing anxiety attacks. This popped up in my news feed the other day and I thought, “Yes!.”
Used to be I had a few triggers. Now, I have an arsenal. The screaming from the house next door, a weird sound coming from my car, crowds … Any sort of dispute in my ear shot. Now, add changing lanes in traffic, Butters taking off and barking in the yard.
My poor nails try daily to grow, but I hinder them and their quest.
I’m alienating friends, scaring off others. The only time I feel comfortable is at work or with my son.
Even when I DO ‘reach out’ I can’t find the right words and come off as a psycho.
My sleeping pattern is off. I’ve gained weight, which, is a good thing … But, I haven’t been trying.
top all of this off with my Nannie who has been in the hospital for a while.
I feel like I don’t get to say how much she means to me, because someone might be offended.
I also feel like someone may be offended by sharing my current state of, let’s just say it … Depression.
I am still quite capable of seeing ‘good’, I just don’t feel capable of participating in it.
Poor little Christmas tree is barely ever lit. I’m not counting Christmas down in ‘how many sleeps!!’
I’m just here.
And mostly smiling all day and then scaring the dog when I sit on my bed and cry.
But I did just notice my purse looking like a weird octopus, so I still have that.
(Cartoon art credit to Hyberbole and a Half … Please don’t sue me.)
It’s late – I’m outside.
There is a story being told. And “For all intents and purposes” was used correctly.
AND, I heard “Cloud City” (Which, turned out to be ‘Floating City’ Bah!)
Am I in a Grammatically correct Star Wars right now? Am I in HEAVEN?
No, I’m outside listening to my honey playing D & D online.
#1: It’s online
Me: But how do you roll?
(Yeah, I used to play, total nerd, you knew that.)
#2: There’s a whole program for characters now!
#3: Dungeon Master doesn’t have to come up with the whole story anymore.
I’m listening to my guy explaining a whole new world to a group sitting on Skype and they haven’t even started yet!! These are men in their 40’s!!!!!!
I love that my son played. I love that there is still imagination.
I’m not sure if I love that it’s played this way now – the whole point was hovering over your character like you would a book with a flashlight past your bedtime.
I remember that.
Ok, so now game is ON! And apparently ‘Stone Beard’ met up with my guy. LOL!
I’m not laughing out loud at the game – I’m actually laughing from happiness that there are still some people USING their imaginations and I will scurry from ‘Arden Wood’ and ‘Roma Quill’ and let them have their privacy.
But, right now, they’re in a forest – and are encouraged to ignore the Wizard from the coast …
BUT WAIT! My honey mentioned, they have a camp fire showing …
What will happen? It’s a roll of the dice. Do enemies see the fire and approach? Or do they have sanctuary for the night with warmth from the campfire?
We’re seriously only going to know tomorrow, because, this girl is going inside and watching a horror movie. lol.
I love this shite. Freaking love it. GO IMAGINATION!
Someone special put this on my Facebook wall today – and made me feel like I was not ‘less than’.
I don’t think people ‘refuse’ to grow – I think we’re all on our own personal paths and even when it’s not evident that we’re growing – we are. Perhaps it dawns on us later. Much like our parents wisdom and love, we don’t realize it or appreciate it until we’ve become parents – much like the advice they gave us, we can’t understand it until we’ve unfortunately made the mistakes.
A post by Jeff Brown resonated with me earlier in the week:
“I used to judge people who didn’t want to work on their ‘issues’ and patterns. I questioned their emotional courage, their fortitude, their depth. To be sure, many of us myself included could do a better job of dealing with our stuff head on. But, at the same time, I now recognize that we cannot know how courageous someone else is by looking at their lives from the outside. Perhaps they are carrying around so much unresolved emotional material their own, even that of the collective that they do not have any energy left over for process. Or perhaps they are working in the deep within in ways we cannot begin to imagine healing their unresolved, quietly building the egoic foundation necessary to take on the next level of inner work. It’s so hard to know where courage lives.”
Never the less, the quote made me feel like she got me. That I was compromising myself a little here in order to ‘fit in’.
Let me qualify my feelings.
I have never ‘fit in’.
I moved from England to the US when I was to enter 6th grade. It was not ‘cool’ to be different. I knew nothing about ‘cool’. I did not fit in.
Our community in England was about handmade clothes & no cliques. And … the metric system.
Imagine for a second, seeing for the first time (like I did when tested to figure (no pun intended) what math class I should be integrated into) a number and a line and another number. A fraction? WHAT?
Needless to say, I was ‘integrated’ into a remedial math class.
I also wore skirts and knew nothing about ‘labels’ or ‘designer’ clothing.
I was bullied for my differences – and in an effort to ‘fit in’ I tried to lose my accent.
This was the era of ‘Dallas’. I mimicked the accent and found myself caught between sounding like an English ‘J.R. Ewing’ – then I was in limbo for a while and ended up losing my English accent. (Oh how I wish I had held onto it until High School!)
It still rears its head with words like ‘Been’ (pronounced ‘Bean’) and a few others. I also pronunciate every letter (I pronounce that with every ‘t’ not ‘d’) and so I have not completely lost my origins.
Dork me, cheerleader me, graduating me and college me.
Always has been. Always will be.
I had an imaginary friend in England – her name was Suzie. We rode horses together. My horse was named Ice Diamond.
I sang in an imaginary band (and still do in the car) – it was called “Silver and Gold”. (I was Silver).
‘Gold’ was an imaginary brunette.
Mostly they were Abba songs. I loved Abba growing up.
The point is – I’ve always been into ‘imagination’.
I’ve always written, drawn – created.
Never did I shrink myself.
I was published at 9 in a newspaper – during college I had several poems published in a book (in the library of congress no less) that are cringe worthy now. I was listening too much to ‘The Final Countdown’ by Europe. I went on to write for a local magazine – critiquing restaurants.
The point is – I’ve always written. I needed to.
Still need to.
I’ve shared with you my son growing up, me growing older, my hopes, my fears.
Jobs lost, careers gained.
Life at it’s best and life’s downs.
Aren’t they beautiful?
All the ups and downs.
I feel so blessed to just BE here. To appreciate when things are good – because I’ve felt when things are bad.
I find myself thinking about trying to save my son the effort and pain of the ‘bad’ – but to what end?
How will he know when life is good if he hasn’t seen the under carriage of it?
I remember pork belly dinners with my mum (in the first picture) when money was tight – and now it’s an expensive delicacy? (Laugh Out Loud.)
The point is – I have never been what you would call ‘normal’.
And after reading that quote on my page – I am SO grateful for it.
I almost ended this blog. I will share with you some of that ‘goodbye’:
I considered ending this blog.
Then it occurred to me …
This blog is about me being imperfect.
Saying the things others can’t or won’t.
Throwing confetti some days and shedding tears others, all over the keyboard.
Living life and figuring out who the hell I am.
I realize a lot after these past years – a lot of the seeking I was doing was not to understand ‘evil’ – but to understand myself.
I am the unspectacular human.
Was I looking for forgiveness? Yes. And I STILL am my own worst critic, but finding bigger evils does not help.
I need to stop.
Looking for good … I always will. But I need to BE the good I seek.
Every post is me in some way.
Throwing stones at the dysfunctional neighbors, sharing the wisdom that I only have come to be in possession of by making awful mistakes.
Wishing I could spare someone the pain of going down a wrong path by describing it. Not just in my stories, but others.
This blog – is about me purging all the toxins from my deepest, darkest parts. It’s about me figuring out how to push past the ghosts and fill myself up with light.
I never could just talk about something. Published at 9 for the first time, I have always needed to write.
And after years of secrets, I also have a need for unflinching honesty.
The only way I can see a good path ahead of me, is when it’s illuminated with truth.
And sometimes I am too truthful.
And sometimes I share too much.
But I can’t see that changing.
So I either end the blog – or forgive myself and embrace the girl who thinks too much and puts it out into the internet world.
I’m not ending the blog.
No, no I’m not. But Butters is shedding in Winter – *see above picture
and so I’m reminded – that we can grow and remain our inherent selves, and still share – all over the f%$&ing place – even when it’s not the appropriate time.
I love that you read me – I love that you know me (and if you read this blog, you DO know me)
A special thanks to Austin and Ksbeth for always ‘liking’ my posts. You put a smile on my face. And to Alyce, who became my friend and an ever supporter .. THANK YOU! Even when I couldn’t back myself up, you did.
To all my Facebook friends (who, I can TRULY call friends, thank you for always clickin’)
And Nic, thanks for letting me use your actual name and not cringing when I write about you. 😉 Y’all need to know that I only write about my son because he lets me. And I am also grateful for that.
And shout out to Beck – who put up with me reading this, and helping me with the title – and trying to remember the name of the song below.
Something reminded today me of the short film ‘The Red Balloon’.
I smiled and asked anyone and everyone in the near vicinity if they had seen it. No one had.
I was shocked!
What a classic.
I explained the premise and went on to add that when I was younger – when the helium began to exit my balloons, I’d pretend they were following me.
Why do I share these things?? We’d already established they hadn’t seen the movie, how does ‘I pretended my balloons were following me’ not sound completely insane??
Anyway, this did start a walk down memory lane for myself and a co-worker.
She shared that she was convinced her toys had parties when her eyes were closed.
She would open one eye ever so carefully in hopes of catching them in the act.
That suddenly reminded me of a very similar childhood memory.
I had placed a tooth under my pillow and awoke to not only a coin, but a little note from the tooth fairy!!
Tiny, scratchy letters explained that explained that I was to be granted one wish.
Looking back, I’m thinking that was a really risky experiment on behalf of the letter writer – depending on what I wished for. What if I really wanted an elephant??
I was loosing baby teeth for crying out loud – my head was so far in the atmosphere no balloons, red or otherwise, could reach me – my wishes were pretty out there.
I wrote back to the fairy … my wish?
I wished that my dolls and stuffed animals could come to life.
I walked to school the next day with a friend and excitedly told her that by the time I got home, probably my toys would already be alive!!!
I could not WAIT!
You know – I don’t remember much more than that.
I don’t remember being disappointed that it didn’t happen either …
I reckon I just figured she had something more important come up – or perhaps my mom confessed.
Either way – I was filled for a brief time with a magical feeling and such innocent excitement.
It was that time in my life when I believed with my whole heart such things were possible..
I just called and asked my mom about this. I asked her how she handled my wish … she said she moved my toys around in the night so that when I woke up, they would be in different spots.
I don’t remember that.
I then asked ‘What if I had asked for a pony??’ to which she replied ‘Well, I’d probably have got one for the day and then explained that it couldn’t stay.’
This is where I get my love of magical things from.
This is why I chewed up carrots and spat them out on the porch so my son would believe in reindeer … why I sprinkled glitter around the fireplace then walked through it to leave jolly boot prints.
Probably why I write and certainly why I love to read.
And definitely why I still believe anything is possible.
P.S. I just received an instant message from her as I was about to hit ‘publish’ it reads: “Oh, by the way, I deny writing the letter, the tooth fairy really did do it.”
I sometimes sit and watch people and cock my head in wonder.
Other people confuse me.
I don’t understand you.
Not because I don’t care or because I’m incapable.
But because I am unlike you
and like you …
but mostly, I feel so very unlike you.
But I am empathetic.
I feel you.
If I saw a discarded sweet box in your garbage can, I would buy you caramels.
I just never quite fit in.
Or understand the rules.
I seem always to be the girl who says too much,
feels too much,
thinks too much.
I laugh too loud, emote too publicly.
I cannot hide my exuberance or my sadness.
I have a giant world in my head and heart!
Colorful, fantastic, dark and macabre
Always there – always.
I have conversations with you in my head.
“Do you want to just watch movies and eat cake?”
“Can you bring cake?”
I share some of my world with a few
On my terms
And occasionally I’m pulled from my comfort zone because i want to please you.
My special friends are always there
They don’t expect me to be like them
They embrace the parts of my world I show them
Real people tucked inside my head
Characters in my internal play
Scenarios imagined – scripts written
And we eat my caramels
and share your cake