Punchy Protagonist

In my younger days, I was not "that" girl--let's be fair I never was. Apparently, when you have the work ethic, the wit, and the grit that will rival those of the male persuasion, it does not leave many gentleman callers knocking down your door, unless they needed help halter training livestock or finishing their homework. I cannot complain much, I suppose--I was lucky enough to find some of the best and most genuine male friends through this time. To be clear, this post does not concern them in any way. Regardless, those times days were unfortunately plagued by an era of making myself be content in the background until I was gifted attention by ones that probably didn't deserve much of mine to begin with. I was too pretty to be the ugly girl but too ugly to be the pretty girl. I was good enough to flirt around with, but not much else. I was much more of a people pleaser, but I was not pleasing enough. I was good enough to hold hands with secretly, but not in public. ...

 Betrayal is a funny thing--and not in the "ha ha" way.  It comes in all kinds of forms--unkind words, stolen items, wavering loyalty, and even a catchy song in the well-known musical The Producers .  I have had betrayals throughout my life, but thankfully they have been fairly "mild" by most standards. I have not been captured by enemies, tied to a chair in some harshly-lit warehouse, only to find out that my best friend gave me away. I have not found out something nefarious about a partner which throws me unwittingly into a life of crime. I have not, to my knowledge, gotten close to someone only to find out their whole identitiy is a lie. No, my betrayals were not that cinematic. Some, even, took time and well-placed epiphanies for me to even discover they were, in fact, betrayals. For those like me that, despite evidence far to the contrary, still want to believe that the people they care about share the same desire to be there for their friends/family as they do...

  When... One word. It plagues. It haunts. It knaws. So much power To make you feel inadequate To make you feel behind Like a damned white rabbit Frantically searching for the "next important date." I'm late...I'm late... The next birthday passes Still no pitter patter. "You aren't getting any younger." "You don't have forever." "You guys need to think about..." And then always the dreaded-- WHEN. Time is such a funny thing. We cannot control it. We cannot harness it. And we only get so much of it. So WHY do we want to depress And oppress others With our opinions on spending it. Why...

Six months came and went Now I am sitting here at eight feeling sad guilty weighted The world kept spinning and I spun with it A whirlwind of distractions I tried to pick a focal point to keep from getting sick But the blurs kept spinning as I begged silently to just get off the ride. Six months came and went Now I am sitting at eight feeling tired emotional overwhelmed If I was not here If I took a cue from the old westerns you loved and rode off into the sunset with the credits rolling behind me How long until they just moved along? Six months came and went Now I am sitting at eight wondering how How the time has gone so fast How the vending machines can still work How much longer I will have to mindlessly trudge until the hurt stops

 Some of this place Is how you left it Drawers full of collections Rooms full of love How dare some call them knick knacks. The collections will go You'd say it's just stuff. The colors will change You'd say you like the blue. We will make it ours It already feels like home Maybe even more than where we are But you will always be here. And if children come However they come They will be overflowing with love Like I was. We will take rides in the pasture Maybe even the cemetery and play in the creek They will know the beauty of the world. And we will make pallets in the floor for beds And eat cheese sandwiches late at night And you will always be here.

 A very dear friend of mine posted on social media once about a family member that had passed away. She listed all the things they taught her, lots of good memories and skills she still uses. She ended the post by expressing that the one thing they didn't teach her was how to  live without them.  Truer words... The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Or that's what "they" say. If you ask me, the five stages of grief are aksdnfa;ohn['aoingalkdn'[oaidngalksdngfa;osidf because honestly grief is just a big ol jumbled mess of emotions that can change from one second to the next. Anything can be a trigger to take you forward a stage or back three.  Maybe this falls under depression. Maybe it does not fall under anything.  But here it is and here I am, feeling it's weight at the most random of times. It began a few days ago when I sewed up some holes in my husband's pants. I did a decent job and even replaced the ne...

I am not sure if I am more hyper-aware of sayings and quotes about grief due to recent events, or maybe social media really has gotten to the point of mind reading, which I've honestly suspected. Either way, consciously or unconsciously, more of them have been popping up lately. "I've been reading that the brain is like a muscle. It's why getting over a death is so hard, because your brain has been trained to feel things for a person, and when they go away, your head is still operating under the impression that it should feel those things for that person, like muscle memory." -Dan Levy, Good Grief "Grief doesn't want attention. Grief is a hand on your chest. A hand no one can see." -- Steven Dietz , This Random World "And why does nothing change? Why does the vending machine keep working? Why do the phones still ring? Shouldn’t something be different?" -Steven Dietz, This Random World "What is grief, if not love persevering." -Vi...