Thursday, April 25, 2013

Magicians and Exhibitionists

WEGO HAWMC Day 25
Share something you’d like to teach other Health Activists.”
(More like “show-and-tell” than teach…)

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  Good morning! OK, I got something that’s been weighing more than a little on me. So, ya know, being the basically lazy individual I am, I do NOT dig carrying around anything extra.
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   I’ve mentioned a time or two that I write with transparency, meaning I don’t hide shit or candy coat it. What you see is what you get. Only sometimes…I don‘t.
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 In the last month I’ve been called courageous, an inspiration, positive, brave, and a slew of other things I’ve made it a point to forget. Here's the thing...
Pictures are great for slight of hand.
No one need ever post images that
show anger...
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  I’m a first-thing-in-the-morning-writer. The house is quiet, the animals are behaving, and the Sun is still hanging on the other side of the World. It’s just me and my ancient laptop.
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  Right here, right now, with my coffee and morning dose of meds flowing through my system, it’s easy to be optimistic. It’s easier to laugh. It’s no big thang to not be all yell-y and rant-y because there’s no one to yell or rant at.
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  By Noon, the med levels are in between morning and afternoon doses, I’ve been up for seven or eight hours, and the animals and family are in their “energetic” phase. Enter Bitchy-Chris.
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  Bitchy-Chris is a nasty individual who doesn’t like to be spoken to, looked at, or in any way have her existence acknowledged. You want lunch? SCAVENGE! You wanna tell me your plans for the day? DON’T! You wanna have a pleasant chat? Pfft! I am the WRONG woman for that experience, baby!
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  I literally cringe when I see the word brave. There are far too many times that I’m terrified by the reality of everything that’s going on in my corner of the world. And by terrified, I mean the soul-sucking, humor-draining sort that somehow manages to bypass the “Cry-Like-A-Two-Year-Old” exit on the emotional highway and go straight for the one labeled “Scream-O-Saurus Rex.”
...self destructive behavior...
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  Ask me what I did last night while you were at work? You’re going to be answered with some bizarre, scream-fest about any number of reasons I’m on the border of Lose My Shit Land. Not a good place to be or a conversation anyone wants to have.
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  Yes, I am just as “kooky” as I seem when I write. Yep, I can turn anything under the sun into a dirty reference and I still find fart jokes HIL-A-RI-OUS! I also have a mouth that would make a Sailor blush. I can (and do on a daily basis) out-cuss the worst analogy you can come up with. (Restaurant Cooks have the dirtiest mouths on the planet and I can *explicative* all of ‘em under the table.)
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  But…I also live on an eternal Mood Swing. So just like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.
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  I tell folks all the time that I write honestly, only with most of the “bitch” and “crazy” edited out before I hit the “publish” button. I am a Magician, filtering the better from the bitter with editing slight of hand.
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  I’ve been told my offspring are lucky to have me for a Mother. The reality is pretty much the reverse…I’m lucky they love me, understand me, and put up with me as a Mom. They’ve turned out to be some awesome-ass people, despite growing up with me. Or maybe dealing with the Wheel-O-Hijinks that is their parental unit has given them better coping skills? (Hey, a gal can hope.)
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  I didn’t decide to write this post lightly. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve started and deleted it over the last year. It wasn’t written looking for positive validation that I’m basically a good person. I have to hold some sort of belief in that fact to expose so much of my life and self.
...or depression.
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  Regardless of all else, every day when I sit down to compose my half of our morning “chats,” there are only two things I know for certain...Everyone on the planet deals with their own pain, wrestles with their own demons, and figures out what kind of umbrella to use when “into every life a little rain must fall” ranges from pleasant Spring shower to eroding, acid rain.
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  And in the end, I am no more or less courageous or inspirational than anyone else. I’m just an odd form of exhibitionist, using blog as trench coat to flash bits and pieces of this part of my journey in hopes of making some part of yours easier.
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  Thanks for allowing me to share it with you.

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