11th Hour Spit-Fire

Sometimes being pissed off to the nth degree can be a terrible trap, and then on occasion where pure frustration meets a flamed fight, I have no choice but to tear tongued truths into the air.

Enough enough enough! What compels me to keep following these unworkable routes along the same ridiculous roads?

I have had enough of  the”Holier than Thou”isms. I should do this, I should do that, I’m not doing the “right” thing, clearly. Sorry mom and dad, you and I don’t have the same measuring stick in mind, and I absolutely cannot keep beating myself with yours.

If there were prizes, medals for digging oneself into ditched desperation, well congratulations to me!!! Ding ding dingity dang. I’m a knock out, drag down, well-practiced queen of the jungle. But who says I’m not allowed to muck about in dastardly decisions? And who says I will not come out the other side unless I memorize the steps to someone else’s unworkable dance? I have my own lopsided but lovable and lively jig that I just need to take a chance on, no matter how many twist-tied feet I wrap myself up in along the way.

Sometimes hearing what I fear the most from someone else’s lips, having it ring like a broken church bell in my ears, is the only thing that can snap me to attention.

I will say thank you. Thank you to those who support and to those who go in the exact opposite direction. It is absolutely true that you find out who is there for you in trying times. And, in those moments when someone’s fear of my downward slide turns them sideways or in opposition, it’s important to say “Hell no! Do not deliver buckets full of bull shit to my door and dump it down my steps. This isn’t about you being what I need any more than it is about me doing what you want. This is about me for me.” Like me, lump me. Finger point until your digits fall off. What difference can this make to and for me? What good does it do either of us? As the old cliche rolls through my mind, “Life is too short,” I am not annoyed, I am aware.

Wake up call, taken. It’s one thing to know when garbage is being fed to me and it’s a whole other thing to taste it because I  willingly spoon it into my own mouth.

And it’s a whole other game altogether when I readily regurgitate it out onto other people. The subconscious unconscious rears its ugly head in the mirror. I can really see it now, again, in this moment.

Habits, deeply tick-burrowed into my brain, seem utterly impossible to break. However, there is absolutely no reason to think I can’t make whatever changes I need to make. I have done so before under considerably worse circumstances. I don’t know what baby steps I must take to teeter away from these places, but damn it, I need kick up my heels and begin the awkward sock hop across the fiery bridge, and leave the heavy-duty naysayers in my flamed wake


About nala7299

Greetings Feline and Fellow Earthlings! In the interest in "brevity" I will attempt to summarize via lists. I AM, this is me, here we go, weee: writer, reader, lover of music, dance, theatre, animals, oddities, 2nd hand trolling through alleys and le boutigues of sally ann and value village, and the beautiful outdoorsy nature of my home. Big breath, leap #2: a veggie head, enviro eco freak, chocolateasaurus, transformer more than meets the eye, former ESL teacher, a happy auntie of Nicholas and Sam, my 2 sweetie pie nephews. Leap #3...welcome to me! Enough said, read my blog:)
This entry was posted in All You Need is Love, Love, Pens Uninterrupted: Workshopping Scribbles and Such. Bookmark the permalink.

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