The Pain of Being Me

Some times I am not honest enough with myself; other times I am so honest I hurt my own feelings. I mean WTF? Imagine if I just let myself live in peace?!?!? Once again I find myself in a space I created, and an unsafe one at that. I am sure you have all heard the phrase ‘to paint oneself into a corner’.
beetlebailey Well, I am really good at doing that. Lately I have been getting to the end of my work day feeling exhausted, drained, and spent. I took a hiatus from trying to be healthy right around this time last year and well, just as you might think, I am fluffy. I am getting way to old to keep fighting with myself. The fight is over. No winner, just a draw. No rematch planned. I just can’t do this bugsbunny gif  to myself anymore.

I own all that is me. The things I have built into the legend that is me and the things that are just my sad truths. No more hiding, no more trying to conform. People will either  like me or not, their choice, not mine. Choose wisely. What is next for me? I really don’t know. I will continue to share things to my blog. I will continue to be a hot mess but from now on I am going to try my hardest to be less of a hot mess. I am picking up the pieces of my puzzle. I will keep trying to arrange them into some version of myself I can live comfortably with. I need to worry about my health before I find myself chasing after what I once took for granted.

I am watching old TV specials of Barbra Streisand as I free write (putting down what ever pops into my grey matter) this blog post. Somehow in the course of living I forgot how much I really love her voice. Perhaps there is still time in my life to SING because it makes me happy. Do you think that some people are just born with the talent to sing? I mean really sing without any voice lessons? Streisand helped me survive my teenage years. I would come home from school feeling friendless, angry, and ugly. I would turn up the volume on my mother’s Emerson stereo and sing every album I owned of hers. I would sing away all the hurt, disappointment, and uncertainty of school day. Her music would take me to a place of hope. Every note, every change in key, every breath carefully taken between key notes in the music or phrasing. My brain knows and can still reproduce every song even after all these years.  I still don’t need a pitch pipe.pitch pipe