…among other things. That’s right I’m back after a month of being MIA.
When the new year started I was a bloody mess and so was my life. If I’d had hackles they would have been raised to attention constantly. Starting out I knew somewhere along the way I’d lost complete and utter control of my life. Of course priding myself in being an intelligent woman I know none of use really have control of our lives. After all control is an illusion, but damn it to hell I need the illusion to stay in place on occasion.
Things have changed for the better as the weeks have passed. For more years than I care to count I’ve lived a double life. That’s right folks it’s time for TRUE CONFESSIONS!
First confession of the day — I’m a liar. Yes, you heard me right–I am a liar. Not a liar in the traditional sense of the word. I don’t lie to my friends about what I think (okay maybe the occasional white lie to keep the peace), but rather who I am and more often than not what I feel. Lies are necessary sometimes. Now don’t look at me like that! You all know it’s true even if you don’t want to admit it. I lie to myself more than I do to anyone else.
See the thing is I never saw my life the way it’s turned out. Oh, I don’t regret anything (well maybe one tiny idiotic thing I did as a teenager–when the hell are they going to invent a time machine?) but I do wonder how I ended up here. As an eighteen year old fresh out of high school with stars in her eyes I had THE PLAN.
1) Meet Mr. Right by Age 21
2) Get Married by Age 25
3) Have First Baby by Age 30
4) LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER…
What in the hell was I thinking. Reality sank in eventually, but I spent my 20’s in a self-induced lie. Life does not come with an instruction manual–no siree it doesn’t! Anyone that tells themselves that deserves the resounding song we used to sing as a children–LIAR, LIAR PANTS ON FIRE! HANGING FROM A TELEPHONE WIRE! Yes, that’s right we’re all liars at one point in our lives and some of us never stop lying and others–well we get hit in the back of the head one day and realize no matter how much we lie to ourselves the truth is still there staring at us every morning in the mirror.
I suppose I really started to think about this subject prior to Christmas this past year. You see I never allowed the true me to show her face for fear the world would hate her. A few years ago I had a boss by the name of Ray when I was working for a florist shop. He was one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He was also one of the few people in the universe who’s ever seen past the mask I superglue in place every fucking morning. When he did my evaluation at work it was standard issue. Afterward though he asked if he could speak to me friend to friend. My gut turned into a giant knot. Nothing good ever starts with that line I thought. He could see I was desperately trying to keep said mask in place so he was blunt and to the point. His words of wisdom you may ask?
“What do you think happens to a house when the foundation rots and collapses?”
He went on to tell me he thought I was one of the kindest, most caring people he’d had the pleasure to know. But (and don’t you know there is always a HUGE ARSED BUT) I cared more about others than I cared about myself. I started tearing up sure if I didn’t escape right then and there I was going to end up curled up under the table; rocking back and forth and playing with my toes. There was no escape of course. Ray was right.
I was a selfish child–I’ll be the first one to admit it. Daddy’s little girl who could wrap Daddy around her little finger when she was cute and adorable. Wandering out into the adult world I realized what a little bitch I’d been as a child to my parents and my siblings. As an adult I decided to try and make up for my behavior as a child the best I could. What I ended up doing was swinging to the totally opposite end of the spectrum. I allowed people to stomp all over me and my feelings because I believed I deserved it. As I grew older I eased up a bit, learned to try and create a balance between being a bitch and being a victim. Ray saw something few did though. He hit me where it hurt. I didn’t feel as if I deserved to be loved. Emotional self-flagellation at its best.
After that conversation I started to try and shift from the left lane to the right lane so to speak. What’s the point of being alive if you don’t live? I’d been hiding for so long I’d forgotten who I was or maybe I’d never really known to begin with. This past year has changed everything for me. What Ray started with that simple comment has slowly been simmering until it boiled over when the clock struck midnight on December 31, 2010 and 2011 rolled in on a cloud of steam.
I left one publisher only to find another a few weeks later. Now if I can only finish that damned manuscript. 😀
My wardrobe has been slowly changing. My hair is cute short enough I got cracks from certain family members about looking like a boy (yeah a 43 year old boy with 42 D boobs *rolls eyes*). Got my first tattoo, something I’ve wanted for nearly 25 years. Started a second job–finally the money isn’t as tight as it was. I welcomed my sweet baby girl Sheba into my home. At last I know what its like to have a loving albeit crazy-assed pet who makes me laugh more than I have in a long time. Now I’m starting to feel like the woman I should have been 15 years ago.
My writing is flowing as it hasn’t in over a year. I’m also more comfortable in my skin than I ever have been.
I’m not saying I had a shitty life before. I didn’t. What I had was a life where I constantly lied to myself and now–well life is better. I can sleep through the night and I don’t bury my woes in a box of Little Debbie snack cakes every time something goes wrong.
What can I say…I’m a late-bloomer. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. ;-D
Until Later…Blessed Be