Even a badass needs a flower…

I figured I’d write this on a Saturday when people are out and about, living and loving and skip-to-their-loo-ing…

Just a few musings on the coming’s and going’s on of a woman fighting wars within herself on a Saturday morn’….

Follow along…I promise it’ll be boring, flecked with a couple of cusses and one really eloquent rant.

I’m badass like that. ¬†Diversify. ūüėČ

1. ¬†< rant > If someone you love/know/care about expresses the difficulties of participating in a particular activity, please do not assume that they are giving you “excuses.” ¬†Just because they don’t conform to your personalized standard of living does that qualify you to judge and compare¬†their life experiences with your own. ¬†Please also do not believe that you have all official knowledge of their experience and/or situation. ¬†My own family isn’t even in on the “down-lo”…the hell makes you think you are? ¬†You stand out as a pompous, ignorant individual and are likely to be thought of as such. ¬†That’s more thinking than I really should have to do. ¬†Just don’t do it. < /rant >

2.  If someone you love/know/care about expresses feelings of angst, woe or general suck-assery, please do not assume that they do not want to know of your own.

{this is very important, please pay attention}

By disallowing me knowledge of your own personal strife/ struggles/ worries/ ailments, you are invalidating MY ability to do those things of which I am damned fucking good at….LISTENING. ¬†Hell, I’ll even give you a suggestion or few, if you’re willing and wanting.

I am telling you loud and proud…STOP invalidating YOUR own living existence by the “excuses” of , “You’re already going through enough…”, or my personal favourite, “Oh, listen to me talk about my kid, when you have five…”.

If you’ve a reason to not tell me something, so be it. ¬†But neglecting me in ANY part of your life, both¬†the good AND the not-so-very…well, that’s just not cool. ¬†At all.

It makes me feel guilty for ever having told you about what I’m going through.

Listen, I’m already struggling with enough shit I cannot do (temporarily, of course)…do NOT deny me the very things that I AM very much capable of doing. ¬†By that same token, you’ve just revoked the¬†privilege¬†of me even being given the chance to TRY. ¬†This serves to make me sad, thus enabling me to hibernate within my own wall of soul. ¬†Don’t enable me.

3. ¬†I have esteem issues so low, that I have, admittedly, wondered what exactly would be missed if I were to go….to…uh…Timbuktu…and take up residence with the local loonies. ¬†Between the esteem and the pain…who the hell LIVES like this?!?!

So, I continue to wage a war not only against my inner failings, but against the shadows of my mind. ¬†Imagine having intimacy “nullified” unless spoken for because of the fear by that person of causing more pain.

How do you manage that on a personal esteem scale? ¬†I don’t. ¬†I assume there’s something wrong with me thus preventing the initiation of all things giggity-giggity. ¬†I freakin’ LOVE snoo-snoo. ¬†THAT is clearly NOT the problem. ¬†Now I’ve just had added, indirect as it may be, MORE to my plate of things to remember to do.

“Honey, snoo-snoo. ¬†Now.”

Seems easy enough…but…what if I forget? ¬†Dude, the list’o’shit of pharmaceutical poisons I take daily makes it ever-so-hard (no pun intended) to remember which backpack is whose…did I even make their lunch?!?

The list goes on.

So now it’s time to start yapping about “comfort zones” and “happy places” and all that “purple painted ponies pooping butterflies” shit. ¬†(Ha ha. I made an ironic funny.)

I thought a session of my hubby taking some portrait photo would help.  Not really.  *shrug* I look either old, tired, sick, or Photoshopped.  But the flower!

That purple flower on the mantle that has the bird in the lantern…

THAT brought me to a happy place. ¬†Nothing epically awe-inspiring, really. ¬†Just smelling it. ¬†Laugh lines don’t matter. ¬†Dark shadows don’t matter. ¬†Just the lingering scent of “fresh” and “alive”…

Huh. ¬†Maybe it all IS in the little things…

Baby steps, then.

Onward and upward.

Adjust and compensate.

Compromise.

Daily.

Pardon my exclusion as I manage my war, a household and a wedding ceremony with pills, a Lysol container and a glue gun…

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