I’m not writing (still). But I need to express. Currently, I have an offline (handwritten) journal, in which I really haven’t written either. But I have done some rather manic, horror movie-worthy sketches. That’s okay, right? To get the hate and despair out. That’s all Mike Myers really wanted, I suppose.
I have anxiety. It makes me struggle with depression. Both cause me to behave in ways that are not me. Not the core of me.
There’s a tribe in Africa that doesn’t punish people who do bad things. They gather around the person who caused trouble or harm, and they sing to that person. They sing a song that person’s mother began singing to him or her when they were just a baby. Before they were here on Earth, outside their mother’s womb, their mother sang them this song. It is their Song. The name of their Soul.
I have been lost, and wandering, for a very long time. Three years to be exact. I have met friends who are enemies and enemies who are friends. I have battled dragons and wizards, befriended wily foxes, soothed sorrowful fairies and hobbits. I have unleashed storms from my hands, and I have wielded a mighty sword against powerful foes. I am tired. I am sad. I no longer want to write…I have a friend who says my tweet threads are my writing. My emails. My long texts. I am writer. Words are song. My soul song. (Also Somewhere Over the Rainbow. My true self’s song was, is, and will always be Somewhere Over the Rainbow–my soul recognized it at 6 years old, and it has lived inside of me no matter where I am at in life or what I am battling. My soul lives somewhere over the rainbow, where happy little blue birds fly.)
Anyway. So the tribe sings the Soul’s Song, until the person is on their knees, in tears, exhausted, weak from fighting. And then the tribe gathers the person to each of them, and they hug their person. They forgive their person, until their person forgives themselves. And remembers Who They Are.
I need a hug.
So I’m going to start here. (Again. Cannot count how many times I have stopped then started in the last 3-4 years.) I am going to start here by answering some questions from a meme about Anxiety/Depression, two things I know so much about.
I’ll start at the top and work my way down. If I can remember to come back and do this, I’ll actually finish the entire process (for once). About 2 months ago on Facebook I started sharing pictures of book covers from books that have impacted me significantly. I shared 2 books, then completely forgot about it. I hardly ever post on Facebook nowadays. I just don’t have a lot to say.
So to begin (again):
20 Things that Make Me Smile (Part 1)
1-My Ms. M. She started as Little Miss M. Then became Miss M. Now that she’s entering Official Pre-Teen Status ™ and turning 10, I feel like she is a Ms. M. A Divine Ms. M. Full of character, opinion, anger, and delight. Never boring, and only quiet when sleep takes over her.
2-Kids laughing. Babies, specifically. If you can sit in the presence of a baby laughing and not at least smile, something is very wrong with you.
3- Sleeping cats. I love when I catch my cat very very asleep somewhere. Sleeping cats are so peaceful. And cute. And dainty. I can’t think of anything better about life than laughing babies and sleeping cats.
4-The start of a vacation. Even if it’s just a 3 day weekend. Everything feels free and the possibilities of What To Do are endless. It’s the exact opposite of the end of a vacation.
5-When a boy tells me I’m pretty. My inner rage-filled feminist is SUPER angry at me for writing this. And Divine Ms. M just looked over my shoulder and said: “Mom, you should put that you smile when a HOT boy tells you you’re pretty. It’s better when a HOT boy says it.” But that is what makes Ms. M smile, not me. I like it when any boy says I’m pretty. I so often don’t feel pretty. Even though my inner rage-filled feminist is reminding me I am not my looks; looks are a patriarchal construct designed to keep me subservient at all times.
6-Pay Day. Like the beginning of any vacation, everything feels free and fresh and the possibilities are endless. My budget makes sense, and this time…THIS TIME…I am sure I will make it to the following paycheck with a surplus in the bank.
7-Cleaning my entire home. I feel organized and together. Like I’ve finally figured out how Life works. Like an actual grown up. Like a great mom. (Except for the part when I was cleaning and losing my shit over the ants crawling over a piece of bagel under Ms. M’s bed and now I have to call the apartment office….AGAIN….to ask them to come spray our apartment.)
8-A night out with friends who make me laugh. The best nights are when you get home and your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. You’ve been reassured YOU aren’t the asshole. You’ve been picked up, dusted off, and set right again. And maybe there’s a slight hangover the next morning, but that’s okay. It’s the Good Hangover. Because your cheeks hurt.
9-The beach. I am at my most centered, my most peaceful, when I am on a beach. I am rarely on a beach – the last time I was on a beach was over a year ago. If that gives you any idea how often that works out for me.
10-Clean bed sheets. I am about to log off this computer and go to bed. In a bed with clean sheets. Because I’m doing proactive lice prevention (long story). But my kitchen is clean and my bed has clean sheets. It’s not making my face smile, but it’s making my world feel like I’m keeping up with my life issues. And that’s a good thing. After the last several months plus the last 3 years? That’s a really really really good thing.
(I was going to do all 20 things tonight, but it’s late. I’ve had a long day and a long work week and all I could pull out of me were these 10 things. You could say that’s half-assed, and you’d probably be right. But some days? Half-assed is enough.)