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. 😉

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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