About Me~, art, inspirational, Uncategorized, world affairs, Writing

How Bizarre~

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The beautiful is always bizarre.  ~ Baudelaire 19657041_1349803748431210_6828812241786549423_n

I’ve never BEEN normal.   It was a certainty in my bones , a knowing even. An intrinsic feeling , yet not a difference that I felt was a problem. I didn’t SEE it as being a difficulty. I knew I was not like other people. I don’t say that as a form of braggadocio or as a way to say I was better or somehow on another plane. I came into this world , a wild animal. For most of my early years I refused to wear clothes, driving my mother to insanity. I thought going about skyclad was the best thing in the world.  When she DID manage to keep me clothed, it had to be boy’s clothes of the most ragged variety imaginable. Jeans, cutup, cutoff, dirty, t-shirts the greasier the better. My Dad’s castoff welding hats and goggles. A pair of corduroy Levi knickerbockers. Cowboy boots with the soles worn completely through. A set of leather chaps that a friend of mine had outworn. I spent my days out of doors ;climbing every tree within 10 miles of my house. Skinnydipping in the Little Missouri river until I was sunburnt to the color of red ripe watermelons we gommed from Granny Jo’s garden in the evenings.  I don’t know how my mother kept from killing me in those years; I never shut up, when I WAS home, which was seldom, I despised school work; what was I going to need all THAT useless information for anyhow, I wanted to be any and everywhere besides chained to that drudgery . I brought home any and every creature I could find , that slithered , crawled or flew, and was sure that both my mother and sister would find homes for them, and be just as fascinated as I was. (  I was wrong on both counts many times. ) Come to think of it, I don’t know why my SISTER didn’t kill me in all those years. I’m sure she had just cause. She was all the things I wasn’t . She was clean. She was a whiz at school, quite dedicated to it actually. And she actually kept her clothes ON. She swore on many an occasion, that “For the love of GOD, Nette, you are adopted. I swear. You actually belong to some nudists somewhere!!”  Heh.

I guess , to me, life just all seemed so bright, amazing, full of things to see. It still seems that way. Everywhere I go now, I still wonder why people want to be “normal” . And the funny thing is they struggle so hard to do this thing they call “fitting in”. What IS that, anyway? I had an interesting conversation with my niece, just the other day.  I was asking her , about a certain person , “Why is he dressing that way?” ( Meaning goth, emo, shopping at HotTopic, you know the whole ‘look’) She said , “Well, he’s making a statement I guess. Trying to stand out. ” So I asked her, “But if EVERYONE is doing that now, dying their hair, getting tattoos, going “goth” , and shopping at HotTopic, are you really making a statement? It’s not. It’s the new ‘normal’, isn’t it. ”  She didn’t really know what to say to that.  See, I don’t have a single tattoo. I don’t dye my hair technicolor. I’m not some trendy gender. Been married to the same guy for almost 21 years. I don’t have a nose ring, or some other odd piercing.  I think people ought to be respectful to others , and pretty  much live and let live. Wow.  In this day and age, guess what? I’ve become the new bizarre. And to quote Baudelaire, “It’s beautiful. “

About Me~, chronic illness, inspirational, Uncategorized, Writing

Welcome the Waiting ~

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I had both a saddening and inspiring conversation yesterday on a FaceBook page I follow.   It posts funny and interesting quotes , with the kind of things that people usually can smile at , or find something to perk their day up.  Well, while I was scrolling I saw a quote that said “Everything that’s difficult , you should be able to laugh about. ”  Underneath , a young woman had written, “Well, what about terminal cancer? Chronic depression?  Unending pain?”  And I suddenly felt very sad.  I felt compelled to reply to her , so I wrote, “Well, I can’t speak for terminal cancer, as I haven’t had that particular wellie, but I have had depression , suffer from more chronic health issues than would fit in this paragraph, and pain that would drop a bull-moose, and YES, I have laughed AT and THROUGH all those things, as crazy as it sounds. Once you get to a certain point, it all becomes so ridiculously bizarrely fantastically insane that this should all happen to one person that all you CAN do is laugh.”   She replied that she no longer even had the energy TO laugh. She said, “I have lost my joy, and I don’t know what to do to get it back again. How do you find your joy with all you have going on in your life?”

I didn’t even have to think. I knew exactly what to tell her. I’ve learned so much in my more sick than healthy years.  I said this, “I understand. My way of dealing has been to cut out everything absolutely unnecessary in my life. Toxic people. Toxic situations . Read more of the things that bring me joy. Spend more time outside when I can. Be with the people I truly love. Unplug from all the garbage on television and internet. Eat the food I like, even if it’s not necessarily healthy, lol. Laugh at ridiculous things. Just take stupid good care of my self , even if it seems selfish. Like insanely long baths, if that’s what I feel I need. Stop when I’m tired. Which is often. Tell the doctors what I think. Even if it’s NOT what THEY want to hear. Make it about the things I TRULY NEED. Journal, and write, and go back to the things I loved when I was 10 and 15 and even 20. I blog, I run my lupus support page. I speak my mind about the things that I think are important. Like being kind. I color . I Zentangle. I listen to good meditative music. I listen to trashy 80s metal, lol I sing, and take photographs and write bad poetry  ”  This has been my way of finding myself.  You have to. There will not always BE happiness, or even laughter. But I do believe there IS always JOY.  Sometimes we must find the joy in the waiting, the joy is in the fact that we are making it one more minute in this craziness we are dealing with. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have days where sometimes I wonder where the joy will come from, but it pops up in the funniest , most surprising places , when I least expect it. I refuse to give up on it.  I hope to always, always be able to ……………..

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