Resentment Riding Shotgun

Having this week off has brought many blessings into focus that I didn’t have much time to think about while prancing around with my daughter last week. Although, slowly…it was your basic slow prancing. It’s a skill.

I thought about when I feel most confident. And what I need to get back there. The reason was simple. When I’m feeling good, I love my life. And the reason for that is even simpler. I love my life when I can make people happy. And I count as one of those people. Which starts with that confidence…which comes back around knocking on All the Happiness. It’s The Circle of Life, my friends! I could sing it for you but, you get the point. And If you don’t, that’s because it’s highly diluted and merely flipping around on a old timey filmstrip inside my head.

Moving on. So…I tend to think a lot while I’m driving. I replay months worth of bullshit. I laugh at jokes from three days ago. I shout mean things at people I’m mad at even though they’re hundreds of miles away. I recite highly sarcastic speeches to people who walk diagonally across parking lots, or don’t know how to park between the lines. I say rude things to the songs on the radio. I create scenarios aloud of annoying things that haven’t happened to me yet. And yes, I am a fucking blast to ride with. Most of this is what I call Having Fun with Your Resentment. I ignore the guy most of the time but hell hath no fury like Baby in the corner. So we go for a Ridealong together. Partners for a time, even though I can’t stand him. I’d like to think it’s a lot like Tango and Cash. But it’s probably closer to Turner and Hooch.

Sometimes, when I’ve sufficiently appeased Resentment for the time being, what I think about instead are those things that make me smile. And I think about them because I’m already smiling. There’s that circle again. Those things. Making someone laugh, or think, or, God forbid, love. My kids off to their activities healthy and happy. When they’re in bed safe at night. Having new ideas. Things I want to do. Planning my day burden free. Feeling lighthearted. Empty of negative feelings for others. Not giving legs to any hatred towards me. Being able to make someone feel cared for. Hope for successful connection and communication. Understanding. Waking up knowing I’m going to make the day fucking great because I choose to and am able.

Above most things, being able to make someone else smile. That’s when I’m the happiest. That’s when I feel the best. That’s when I love my life. That makes all the difference to me. It’s when I feel whole. I feel warm from sun up to sundown. Purposeful. Light. Happy. Now imagine when that’s all taken away from me.

Well…then My Buddy decides it’s time to go for another ride. Okay, Jackass. Let’s play. Hope you’re not sensitive to ‘swears.

The Only Constant

I’ve still got one hell of a sour taste in my mouth. It always leaves me feeling like I’ve got a lot of negative shit to spit out when it comes down to it. And I will. It will come out eventually. In bits. It has to. Right now it deserves absolutely no notice from me. None. Rest up, Bullshit. You’ve got the day off.

I had a moment last night, in complete silence. Soothed. Calm. Some clarity. Momentarily empty of ghosts. Looking at myself from the outside, I could feel the rest and relief through every part of me. I took that time and chose to ask myself a couple questions.

Where do you put your heart. In these days of uncertainty in all things. Why would anyone else want it. Or need it…And how long could it possibly last. Does it matter?

I wasn’t disheartened that I had few answers.

The reason is this. In the clear forefront of my mind I did not hear, “Nowhere. They don’t. It won’t. It doesn’t”. None of that was there. It disgusts me I ever allowed myself to feel those things. It disgusts me I ever experienced feeling those things. It disgusts me that I ever spread those negative notions around. And it disgusts me that I was pushed so far out of body those thoughts became who I was. And that I can’t take any of it back. There’s just so much I want to take back. To have for only myself again.

We have protectors that don’t fail us for malicious reasons. We are protectors desperate to succeed out of affection. I feel a distinct nastiness and corruption nowadays in the phrases, “we are all human” and “none of us are perfect”, among so many others. So, while I don’t allow them to jump to mind, I will say, in that protection we want to provide and be provided, kindness is key. And without it, heart is useless to be given or received. Completely useless. If kindness is present, put your heart where you must.

Again, I was not disheartened.

It will go where it goes. We all know. Whether your heart is wanted or needed is subjective, and changes overnight. You will be told both are true. You will be told both are untrue. You are not in control of verifying such things with any degree of certainty. Sound hopeless? It’s anything but. The hope of being loved and cared for is what fuels us forward. The hope of receiving the kindness we give keeps us from giving up. The why’s are unimportant.

It was vague, but not disheartening.

As far as longevity, I’m still working out an answer to that. You may live a hundred lifetimes in one relationship, or it may pass in the night. It may linger off and on in friendship and support. It may die quietly. It may die in a fiery blaze of contempt. There’s no way to know. I’m not one for working with variables. And there’s a mindblowing amount of variables in between one minute, and Forever. It is a true unknown. But the hope of being cared for will keep you hanging on until the end. Bitter or otherwise.

I am seeing myself.  There are many unknowns but my hope is driving me. And I will always answer, Yes…it matters.

I am not disheartened.

28 Steps on Calvary Hill

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The National Shrine of The Cross in the Woods, Indian River

In each small step we take forward, whether with full purpose for another, or self serving, we will find bits of what we truly are. And who we are. We can sort our own unbending reality from that which has been projected onto us.  In that middle ground, somehow finding our strengths and the boundaries we’re able to draw from, as well as faults and long necessary improvements to be made. That is our hope of direction. That’s finding direction. And trying again.

We can find affirmation. We can find forgiveness. We can be reminded to let go of fear. And let in. Regardless of the dangers. We’ll revisit the cliffs we brazenly jumped from, and the places we hid in safety as time passed. Scared of our reflection, or that of another. All in these tiny steps, whether they appear failed ones or not, there are successes. There is building towards something bigger. And no way to ever know what it is. Only a plan. No map. No guarantees.

None of it will come to you before you’re willing. Or before you’re ready. I won’t be disheartened. And I won’t be kept down. The same things that kill me give me life, but suppressing any of it, I’d be doing myself and my future a great disservice. That isn’t an option any longer. Only to be smarter. Only to forgive intentions. Only to keep learning. Only to listen to my own footsteps. Small steps forward. All successes, no matter what they seem.

I’m proud to share this as part of me. A much needed renewal and serenity. A new beginning and aid in closing painful chapters, releasing hurtful relationships and losing my soul in the wrong people and things. Forgiving judgment from others, and forgiving myself what I have allowed. No one person is above another in worship here. There are no High Horses. How easily it’s forgotten that we are all equals…Once you’ve stepped out. Each of us could stand to benefit from our own personal reminders.

I’m reminded that my soul belongs to me. My heart and my life belong to me and my children. I defected in straying from that all to waste. I damaged myself and my family. But, I’m listening. I’m walking forward. And now I know better.

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The Holy Family

Making Up For Lost Time

I did one of my most hated things in crossing the Mackinaw bridge again yesterday. Any bridge, actually. Like…can’t handle it hate. But sometimes we have to do those things to get where we want to go. To that other side. So I did.

And it’s been well worth it. From the top of the campsite in St. Ignace, it’s easy as hell to forget about who’s hurt me. They say don’t waste time thinking of someone who doesn’t give a shit about you…paraphrasing (kind of)…and so it goes.

I choose instead to be grateful for yet another second chance and burying negativity in old relationships. I choose to not be ashamed of my emotions. And I damn sure forgive myself for not trusting. Even though there are things I wish I wasn’t right about.  I choose to keep listening even if I don’t want to. And I choose to remain understanding regardless of what I’ve received.

There are hearts that know us. There are people not full of doubt. There is time and patience. There is a future. There is warmth and true caring. And this is the side I’ll stay on. This is where I’ll be for all my days. And nobody can steal that from me. I don’t care who you think you are, do your best. It isn’t happening.

It all comes back around. Feeling damn good today.

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Breatheable Heaven

Still healing up…I’m finding the heat a little hard to bear but this past few days have been amazing. There’s still a wet heaviness in the air, but it’s cool yet, and makes adventuring that much easier for the munchkin and her old pops. When I plan our day, those files of unshaded spots aren’t showing up in my memory search…not yet. Soon! Not yet. She’s dealing. So am I.

And it’s kind of amazing the fun you can have in a shallow riverbed with nothing but a Ziploc bag. Which is fantastic cause I’m not quite up to tag yet or hiding in the weird drainpipe at my all time favorite Metropark, Hudson Mills. She had no memory of playing soccer here when she was little little.  I guess we all have things we’ve forgotten. In her case she was very young at the time, but it was also a difficult period for her family. We’re starting new now so, for whatever our reasons, we’re leaving all of our bullshit in the past. Every person and every last God damn thing.

We dig in rivers together. That’s what’s happening now. 20170622_181031

20170622_134257It’s been a full day to say the least. I’m returning a perfect comment card on myself simply for keeping every last Sea Turtle alive and smiling today, as well as a quiet lunch and dirt filled adventure with The Baby.  That’s saying nothing of squeezing in sundaes at the Dexter DQ. And yes, I will be recommending myself to friends20170622_141255This coming weekend will be just for me. It will be about my choices, my time schedule. Me. Because what I need matters. Because there are people that depend on me. And because I’m tired of being dismissed as unimportant and forgotten. God forbid I return that treatment. Ever.

There’s a place I’ve been needing to revisit since last fall but could never quite make it. I tried but I wasn’t able. I convinced an old friend to trek up to Indian River with me to a place called Cross in the Woods. If awe inspiring was ever fitting, this is the place for it. I need to get back in touch with a lot of things that I am, and that I need. And for once, I’m looking forward to something with absolutely nothing but breath and light. Darkness is for cave dwellers and demons. It’s time to wall all that lingering shit up for good.

Counting My Blessings While Quoting Great Rappers

I got my list for tomorrow and I’ve made a grave mistake. Somehow I’ve confused Dolphins for Sea Turtles…😍😍😍. Turtles, though hearty, cute and full of energy, are roughly the age of three. I may be in over my head…in three feet of water. There will be a lot of tentative small people dunking their heads under a hula hoop. And me getting splashed in the face. All…day.

I’ve already met with a great deal of the staff and dare I say most of them might be normal. While usually wrong about such things, I’ll hope for the best and just be glad for the social interaction with people who aren’t judging the shit out of me. Well…not yet anyway. You know how that goes.

This would be a good illustration of what doesn’t care if it kills you, makes you realize what a fucking idiot you were (You can quote me on that). And it helps put out that candle. The one you intended to hold forever for some strange reason, put it out already you gross jerk, this was never a thing…not yet…DO IT!…NO!…fingers burning…ow. Okay…may be time to rethink this.

While I much prefer candles to chintzy sparklers, I won’t be mentioning my “hopes” to anyone…not again. And while I’m at it, fuck nerdy wishes and quote unquote dreams, too. It’s only trouble. I know what I want. And it’s not my innards on a plate for a stranger to look at. That stuff is all for me. I can’t guarantee it will stay in my head forever, but…I’m restructuring this shit. Now. And I won’t bleed for another human ever again. Not unless I was there when they were born.

I’ve been given several second chances in my life. And I’m grateful, but I always think of something Tupac said in one of his movies that came out after he died…”You ever feel like your luck’s running out? Lately I’ve been feeling like my luck’s running out.” It’s safe to say that I won’t be speaking from beyond the grave, so I tend to say everything I want to, when I want to. But it has to stop. It has to. Before my luck runs completely dry. I have to give a shot at keeping my fucking heart, and mouth, quiet. I have learned! Lawd, I learned! Swearsies!

On this the eve of what marks a new start for me, new responsibilities, new opportunity to rebuild, new chance to put negative energy behind me, new hope (there’s that word again) to care and actually be cared for someday, I wont be holding candles or starting fires of any kind for that matter. Nor will I be jumping into any burning buildings, active volcanos, sinking ships or bad episodes of Real Housewives.

And, literally and figuratively speaking, staying out of the deep end. 

Green Stuff, Revelations and Aladdin

On a day like this one…20170621_160701…I will remember that I won’t be made to feel less than. I’ll know there is someone I was made for. And I will know for a fact that my love is not only a disease to be caught by someone who does not care for me. That I am worth more than I’ve been shown I am. I will know that I am absolutely not any less of a human than another. And to think…all before I’ve even left the house.

Let’s keep this streak going.

After unsuccessfully searching for my most hated Disney movie on DVD, we moved on to find the much balleyhooed Lite Up Fidget Spinner. (“Bennett has one!”). And, score.

We stopped off at our favorite spot for lunchies, and had to battle King Onion of Bageltown. Again. That guy’s not messing around. 20170621_160749

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Botanically Yours

It’s been stifling here lately. In more ways than I can count. But the heat and humidity in particular. When you can’t breathe. Can’t depend on anything in your day. Can’t sleep. Or eat. You stay still. You’re uncomfortable all the time…maybe watching for storms. Maybe you’re a hopeful optimist (or really, really dense) and you think the storm isn’t coming. This time. Either way it will lift. Eventually the weight on your chest will lift. And you’ll be able to move freely without much thought to what’s ahead. Or behind.

I woke up this morning to a cool breeze on my back. The rain pushed it in. The air was damp and smelled clean again. It felt good. That weight had lifted. I laid there for a while. Letting that renewal soak in. Breathing easier. And waiting. Staying still. Not searching for extra covers. Welcoming the change.

It felt like spring. The kind of day you wait for in spring. No matter how out of place in summer.  Just months ago I would have loved a morning like today’s. Only back then, I surely would have missed it. Too consumed. Too preoccupied. My heart made me oblivious to so much. But it was just another storm rolling in.

Most flowers here are still deciding whether it’s time or not. Even though I’ve got no idea what the answer is, there was only one place I wanted to go today. And it was perfect.

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Frogs and Pearls

I never go looking for wisdom in strange places. But one of my greatest joys in life (so what, right?) is when it jumps out at me unexpectedly.

When I started the 6th grade I was headed into a new school and feeling particularly anxious about it. All my old friends knew I had the tendency to touch them when I talked…and that I had a lot to say. The loss of most of my hearing had come to a head and I was riddled with anxiety about having to introduce those things that were me to a whole new group of kids. Not to mention, at a time when kids have a tendency to be huge assholes. Unwelcoming and cruel…I found that doesn’t change much with age. But I’ve learned ways around it. Or at least ways to lessen the blow.

So…when my daughter started kindergarten last year, ahead of the game in a lot of ways, she still had medical eyes on her at most times. And she was worried about what she called “the attention”.  Some of us like it. To some, it makes us feel special. And to some…well, we just want to be left in peace and keep the eyes off of us while we go about our business. Everyone else does so why can’t we. And she and I are a lot alike in that way.More

Summertime Smackdown

She scored the last spot in Moana summer camp in July. And also a week each of Nature Explorers, Music with Art (with her favorite instructor, Hot Damn!), Scrap Camp and a week of Swimming meets Gymnastics at the rec center. 100% not taught by me! So she will be blazing a trail all on her own. Which is a whole new world for her. Plus, it means no lazing around this summer! Busy, busy, busy.

After a successful year in kindergarten she doesn’t seem ready to slow down anyway. Regardless of what the calendar says 👏👏👏. Which is just fine by my standards.

BUT! We ain’t slacking at home either. My hands are still a little shaky and I’m not quite finished but this was our project for the day. After punching out roughly 200 glitter circles, she’s already busied herself cleaning her room (“I feel so proud right now!”) and organizing the cabinets. She’ll earn her allowance IF every space is filled at the end of the week, in addition to .25 for every book she reads to me. (Ended the year on level J! Haaay)More

Butane and the Beast

With world’s best little nurse (and future first grader) by my side today, life goes on. And she decorates for Homecomings too…

Life goes on. Quietly and comfortably. And…analyzing fairly acceptable Disney remakes. I’ll just jump in….Belle and the Beast…what’s really going on there.

So, turns out there’s this guy who’s cursed at some point for being a selfish dick. Why a stranger intervened without prompting is irrelevant but, imagine for a minute if we were all as lucky, and got that chance to see our mistakes in this kind of light. There’d be a lot of fucking beasts walking around. This I know.

And this poor sap, it can’t be just any old love. He needs to find real love. True Love (yeah, right), before all the petals fall from his ‘rose’ (Hey, don’t we all, brother). Good luck to him. 

By pure unfortunate circumstance, he finds an intruder in his *super awesome*, peaceful but lonely, castle (and, by God, don’t touch his collections either). Daughter comes to save the intruder, i.e., her fatherBeast threatens to kill intruder unless daughter falls in “Love” with Beast. Yadda, yadda, yadda?…Can’t we just watch JFK?

But, death threats for forced emotion aside…*clears throat*…

How does he ever expect to coerce someone into loving him? This guy is an asshole. He’s picky, set in his ways. Private about his personal space. Socially awkward. A messy eater and mood swings like a motherfucker. Pretty hard to deal with, on the whole, I’d say. That sorceress was right. Total selfish dick. But, is he really?

Can we blame him? I mean, after all, he’s fine where he is. He has his hobbies (I would assume). He doesn’t bother anyone. He’s got trust issues with the the townspeople, for good reason, because I’m 100% positive he never asked an angry mob of strangers bearing weapons and fire to beat down his door. He wasn’t looking to make trouble. But, let’s be honest, he’s got some major problems, this guy. He’s had some bad luck. Made some mistakes. Maybe one too many indiscretions between him and those female wolves out in the woods that he doesn’t like to bring up (gotcha thinking now though I bet). Sure, it would be nice to not have a black heart anymore…I guess. To be his old self again. Man just needs a girlfriend. One that sticks around this time. And can’t seem to pull it off. He’s as clueless as the rest of us.

But he tries.

He gets a bad rap from the nosy townsfolk who figure that since he’s different and quiet, he just has to be trouble. And hes cranky and withdrawn because he’s misunderstood and afraid to reveal his shortcomings (even though I’ve got great teeth and don’t have to shave my eyelids or forehead, I can still relate). A Catch 22 of Fairy Tale proportions. Moving on.

He’s got this handful of great friends who help him out. They care about him and stay by his side. They advise. They’re loyal. They look out for him. But the time has come and they are all but screaming Gurrrrl, you are NOT leaving this house because we can not babysit this jerk anymore!! We’ve got lives to lead! And, even more urgently, Don’t mess this one up, you big furry crybaby!

So he tries. He’s an argumentative cuss and WAY out of his comfort zone. He attempts to change his ways. Lets the guard down a little. Which I give him credit for, because it’s been a long fucking time since he answered the door for a stranger. He learns. He warms up. Bends, as the song would suggest. 

In other words, he tries. If you can get past the fact that he initially tries for selfish reasons…he still tries. And he does love her. Unreservedly. He does. If he didn’t? That spell wouldn’t have been broken, now would it. Woulda just been getting another smooch from a Townie. 

So, until my particular personal curse is broken, I’ll be minding my business, dusting my collections, being suspicious of villagers, mixing metaphors like a Cuisinart, and shopping online for velvet capes. Luckily there’s a shitload of petals left on the rose. Black heart or not. No fucking rush. I’m good.

#Insecurity

In between guilting the staff to bring me more food, I’ll take a second to mention that this is my favorite tag to read on WordPress. Hands down.

Of all the things I’m most familiar with, that I relate to, that I’ve been through, going through, or am…that’s where I find the most interesting thoughts. Insecurity of subjective looks or about being “loved” isn’t what I mean. Scrap it. I mean insecurity about being different. Doubting ourselves. What we’re embarrassed of. Those less than perfect attributes that make us precisely who we are. The most interesting people and the most interesting thoughts. They’re there. With that tag. And I know exactly why that is.

When my hearing started going, around the age of 7, I started getting pushed aside by my friends. When they thought I wasn’t cooperating, I was thinking. And planning. And imagining. Alone. Fine, but alone. I had my own ideas that I knew didn’t fit with what they were doing. And because I’d had that time “alone” without outside influence, my interests fell away from sports and typical little dude role play. I liked to ride my bike and draw. It’s when I started writing. I liked animals, and playing the piano. And I loved school. I felt at peace there. As the chaos and noise of 400 other kids slowly started to die out over time. And I suppose that I still love school. I always feel like the opportunity there is endless. But people still think, at times, I’m just not cooperating.

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Calypso Songs Philosophical

I promise, this IS going somewhere! All evidence may say otherwise but, stay with me on this one!!

I’ve joked before about being a fan of Harry Belafonte (It’s no joke. He’s amazing). I like to read through lyrics of his songs, because just as often as they are silly or fun, they’re beautiful and poetic. I’m aware he didn’t write any of these but he makes them sound damn good…

As morning breaks, the heaven on high
I lift my heavy load to the sky
Sun comes down with a burning glow
Mingles my sweat with the earth below

I see woman on bended knee
Cutting cane for her family
I see man at the waterside
Casting nets at the surging tide

Oh, island in the sun
Willed to me by my father’s hand
All my days I will sing in praise
Of your forest, waters, your shining sand

I mean…if that isn’t a lovely picture, dammit.

He has a goofy song called “Man Piaba”. Which is basically about a small boy asking about ‘the bird and bee’. Now…I had to do some checking, but apparently there is a Jamaican herb that’s nicknamed Woman Piaba. (Stay with me here…)

“Woman Piaba” or Hyptis Pectinata is prepared as a tea for stomach-ache, colds and headaches, as a drink for a woman in labor. The herb is used in Jamaica for pain in the bowels and colic and as a drink for a woman in early menopause.

So..the little boy in this songs wonders, “if the woman piaba, then why not man, and what happens when they are together”. And, apparently he travels through time and space by himself to ask the world’s great thinkers to explain it to him. Einstein and Freud put upon him theories of sublimation and relativity…etcetera, etcetera.More

Regeneration

The time has come to finally start making some plans. To what extent, I’m not sure, cause it’s not something I’m used to. But I know I’m out of lives on Candy Crush and TV here sucks. And I’ve got my notebooks. The ones that only I care about. Two, in particular, I’ve worn down an entire pen on alone. For me. Cause that’s what I need to think about.

As far as plans go, I’ve got a lot of things I want to accomplish this year and kick this old ass dust off my shoes for the very last time. A few things I’ve already missed out on due to emotional obstacles out of my hands, no support, and focus poorly spent in the wrong places. But I know now. Rebuild.

I’ve got different job obligations this year. New groups of kids I’ve committed to in three places. But if I can work around that appropriately and responsibly, I intend to have a few things marked off this fucking list by December. Which will be the third December in a row that I hoped would be better than the last.

First thing to get headed in that right direction…Peace. Come here, you elusive goddess, you. It’s time. I’m done. Peace please. More

Adaptation, More Fucking Dirty Laundry & The Very Definition of A Good Listener

I’ve been told, ad nauseam, that I’m too sensitive…and you’re God damn right. But it’s not just an opinion. It’s a fact. To everything around me, and everyone. Every noise and every feeling. It’s not a surprise. And now, with the ‘help’ of some…we’ll call them interested counselors and psychiatrists, I’m at least partially wise to the term HSP, much to my extreme aggravation and embarrassment. But it’s become comforting the more I consider it being a thing. And not just tripe. Two and two together as it were.

Ever taken a walk, or a bike ride with earbuds crammed deep in your ears…before any music or speaking comes on. All other sound is deadened. Muffled. You’re woken up to the sound of your heartbeat. Your own breathing. The pattern of your walking. The vibration and feel of the earth under your feet or tires. You feel the movement through your whole body. From the ground up. You’re heightened to oncoming cars or any other dangers you might be missing while your ears are blocked. You’re aware of everything around you. New blooms. Animals. How the wind is blowing the trees. The temperature. If the clouds are moving. How fast. Something crushed on the ground. You wonder how long its been there. Who dropped it. If they ever realized they’d lost it or tried to look for it. You notice the layers of the earth. You consider the seasons and passing of time. Maybe? Maybe you think about something you forgot to do that day. Maybe you think about something funny that happened earlier. Maybe you smile. Because you’re the only one there. That’s you. There’s the cord that keeps you inside that peace and separation. There’s your hands and arms beside you. Your red T-shirt. One of two red shirts you own. Not the UA one. The other one. It’s nice to not have to wear a coat today. It’s sunny. Finally. Remember when you ran in the snow in January and got soaked. The passage of time. Seasons. How far can I go today. Wonder what I’m up for. You feel wind shifts and weather changes on your face and skin. Rumbles in the ground. You’re aware of your own blinking and swallowing. Any minor sensation of pain or pleasure, any feeling of joy or sadness is magnified while your focus shifts in between your body and your own thoughts…and all this happens in those few seconds your music or show takes to start up. It all happens while you’ve had a few seconds of silence to notice everything else…everything.

…Now imagine living in those few seconds every minute of your life. It might be nice not to be distracted by all the outside ‘noise’ though. Only trouble is, in the absence of that ol’ noise, your mind has to go elsewhere. And it will. It does. Luckily you have a choice to take your earbuds out. Not to overthink things. And to reconnect with all your senses at their full capacity. But isn’t that what you were just doing.

…Now imagine taking those earbuds out and there being no change in your perception or connection with the world. And no improvement in your hearing. Nothing returns. No change. Would you feel like you were doomed and panic, or would you feel blessed to have had the ability to sense and feel things differently than most for that short while. I can’t tell you my own answer because I don’t know any different. And I’ve adapted. I’ve adapted to feeling, seeing, knowing, watching and analyzing, rather than hearing anything but that deadened muffled noise in one ear, and nothing in the other.

It’s something I grew into as it changed. It’s something I’m used to. It’s something that’s taught me where my interests and true strengths are. And it isn’t anything I need to be teased for, taunted about or challenged on going forward. EVER again. I communicate the ways I’ve learned to be comfortable doing so. The ways that I might best learn about someone and them about me. It is a social insecurity with new people that I’ve learned to work around. Not always successfully or to my benefit. But I adjust and time moves on.

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A last swim with my buddies before they tinker with my ticker. Be well, y’all. See you on the other side.

Pinckney, MI…exact coordinates available on request…

Not Fade Away

You know, this morning I took my car in to get fixed. Something I’ve been putting off for weeks because I couldn’t physically do it. And I waited. I waited about three hours give or take. I recorded about 17 different voice messages while I waited. Listened back. Thought I’d go ahead and do it. And I think the true hesitation was that I’ve learned there’s no place left for any of it to be heard. That that was it. I’m not able to withstand if it happened to fall on deaf ears. I’m not. It’s no secret. I’m not.

I found a place outside to sit. 73 today. Breezy. Beautiful. Been a while since any sunlight has touched me. And I started noticing a lot of things. Things I’d missed. Started thinking about a lot of things.

I noticed the dragonflies were out again. Like they felt it was finally time. After the nice weather…then more rain and cold. Then nice again. Back and forth. That confusion. They’re out now. Until their time is up. And I noticed our roses finally bloomed. And I’d missed it. I had no idea. Again, they figured it was time.

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