I have had a smidge of an attitude lately. The boys and I go to the park for little walk and talks, and on a particular day last week, we all were a little grumpy. It was humid, and I am rather dramatic about the humidity and heat. I often swear I will not survive it, yet somehow I always do. We moved the walking pad to the upstairs living room because it was driving me nuts (imagine that). On our way up with it, my son had made it to the top, and I was still a few steps down. Chip had been getting underneath me and I kept telling him to stop, albeit through laughter, so he did not take me very seriously, and I paid for it. I had two steps left, and he went under and put his paw in my PJ pant leg. I attempted to lift the walking pad and hurl it onto the landing, and I succeeded-ish. I then face-planted onto the walking pad and put most of my body weight on top of it as my hands were underneath. It has been a long time since I have laughed my way through carpet-burned hands…or knees. Back to the park…we get out of Bossy, walk over to our trail in silence, and as we start to make our way down a red car that was pulling up towards us as we were getting onto the trail just came to a complete stop in the clearing. No stop sign, no speed bump, no people crossing the road, no animals in the way, and not a fucking thing to take a photo of. Just the backsides of me (mine is lacking, flat asses will be in season again) and my sons walking down our little trail, alone. I have had my fair share of fucking weirdos at the park and just about everywhere else, so I have taught my sons to be aware and to pay attention. Basically try not to get lost in mind and in nature like I do. I usually do not bother with the weirdos and just make a brief detailed note of them. I am beyond observant and only need a couple of seconds to take a mental image with pages of information. However, this particular day I was feeling like you know what…fuck this, I don’t need an image, I got them right here, right now.  I turned around, and they were still there. I threw my arms up and shouted “What the fuck” as I walked towards them with their rumbling engine and blacked-out windows. I had no idea who was inside, what they wanted, or if I was about to find out, but I was just over the feeling of accepting shit I no longer wanted to. And it does not hurt that I indeed like to fuck around and find out. The window rolled down and a woman yelled, “What the fuck you throwing your arms up for?!” Well ma’am, you just told me everything I needed to know. You were in fact watching us, but for the record, I would not be caught dead in that car. You’re going to have to go round up your buddies with classier taste if you have plans to transport me elsewhere, dead or alive. I will be here waiting with a shit-eating grin. 

Look, if I don’t want to do something, you will know it. My mom often speaks of my first day at school where I placed my arms and legs in the doorframe and had a death grip with both my hands and feet to ensure no one was going to push me into the classroom. Once you cave, you have to commit. I don’t cave often. And while I am taking a comical approach, I also mean this in a literal sense. I have total commitment issues to almost everything in life. Everything except for my children, animals, and friends. Damnit, sleep too. I can commit to that. Aight so I commit to a lot of things, but the traditional commitment issues are where I find myself pretty damn ordinary. And to tell you the truth, I know exactly where my attitude is coming from. I have not been very happy with certain aspects of my life, and I have waited my whole fucking life for someone else to make those aspects what I want them to be, or for them to accept them for what they are. I have also thought having someone in my life would make those aspects obsolete. Negative ghost rider. A good portion of my life has been spent in survival mode, sometimes because yes, I had to, and other times because I don’t know how not to. I live for the moment and enjoy it, but then nothing ever really beyond the moment ends up lining up with what I envisioned for myself. I am fucking tired of feeling this way. And I have not one person to blame but myself. Besides, I am not looking for anyone to blame, I just want to fix it. I simply have not shown up for my life the way I want(ed) to. I need to make my own shit happen. I distract myself on purpose, and consume myself in things as to not have to face myself all the time. I extend myself to others when I don’t have much to offer to myself. I smile and say I am great when sometimes I am not. Although this is often just with people I am not very close with for a variety of reasons. Shoutout to all of my friends who endure the raw truth, the tears, the insecurities, the Bird that needs hugs and won’t let go and eventually shouts “fuckkkkkk thisssssss” and snaps back into cracking jokes and leaving people questioning if I am the special friend…spoiler alert, I am! I put up with things that I should not because they make me feel comfortable through familiarity. I tone down who I am when I sense I am not making someone feel comfortable. I forget that the ample and endless love and support I have in the form of females can also exist in the form of males, but I am reminded of this goodness by finding the upside in the harshest of words spoken to me because I will always be a survivor. Just not in a red car with blacked-out windows and a rumbling engine because, ew. 

I have spent some remarkable time with even more remarkable women as of late, and of course my phenomenal sons. Dedicating my mental space and physical body to myself. Healing through a heartbreak. Strengthening inside and out with exercise and meditation. Running errands with the boys in our PJs, going for random lunches, and talking with them just to soak up their brains, senses of humor, and beautiful little souls. Running in rain-filled streets in high heels. Letting my girlfriends fiercely defend me against bitches at the bar without even having to say a word just nodding my head “Uh huh, what she said” the whole time. Not giving two fucks that although we ordered for the three of us, I sat and licked all of our plates clean until 4 AM. If you take me to eat, I will eat you under the table (Gross. Stop, Brad.). I feel like we play these roles, rather we become these roles with people and sometimes they really hold you to them. Never giving you space to evolve into something new, never thinking it is possible, never asking or discussing who you have become and what your needs are, and sadly, never accepting when they change. I am a bit of a force of nature, yet, I can be zen and quiet. In my mind, I am both philosophical and a bratty Britt on a sugar high ready to fuck some shit up and laugh. Intimately, I am quiet because alone is when I feel the most comfortable to be that part of me. There are very few people who have ever resided in this space with me. With most people, I get uncomfortable and squirmy, and I laugh when we try to be serious. Lately, I have noticed how important it is to surround myself with people I am comfortable sharing this space with. It is not a choice, it is not something I can decide to do, or not to do. It is, however, healing and necessary, and a sign I feel safe. I am a fucking presence, and I don’t mean this in the most complimentary of ways. But I am very strong and outspoken. As I get older and look more inward, I find myself getting softer, wanting more delicateness, and protection, and not feeling weak or accused of playing the “victim” simply because I am bothered by something or even more so, hurt. If you can think of it, it has been said to me. And I have always said, “I have been called far worse things that were true.” Here is where I am now… I don’t fucking care if I have heard it before, I don’t want to hear it again. I don’t care if I am a survivor, and a strong woman, I don’t want to have to be. I want to be able to blow bubbles and write poetry in my mind while smiling at everyone, and then turn around and trip you in the sand, take my clothes off, and run naked into the water! And while my backside may be lacking, apparently it was good enough for the hoopty to stop, I just refused to get in.