I’m full of words today.
All my young life I wanted to be either a veterinarian or a horse trainer. I had a love for animals back then that has never gone away, but remains largely unfulfilled now that I live in a city, and can’t have that pygmy goat I want. I have to settle for the 2 German Shepherds we have, and pray to win the lottery so we can move somewhere that allows goats.
When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a poet, or at least a well-known fiction author. I was Emo before Emo was cool, and I have the notebooks full of bad poetry to prove it. I tried a stint at being a Cheerleader in junior high (no joke, it was for boys, I cheered for boys basketball, you get to watch them run around in shorts)– we even won the Spirit Award one year, much to the dismay of every other surrounding town. (My school was notorious for being full of juvenile delinquents and bad sports, I don’t know how we did it.) But I decided that I was too much of a snark to be that perky, and I turned in my letter sweater and burned my pom-poms in effigy. Down with motivation! Up with sarcasm! I wanted to dye my hair black and wear safety pins in my ears, like the cool punk kids I saw in pictures. Instead, my safety pins were used to peg my jeans tightly at the ankle, so they could be rolled. It was the 80’s, after all. And my mom vetoed ANY hair color. I had to stick with mouse-brown, and like it. I am now a red-head by temperament and inclination, and will never go back to my original haircolor. Thanks.
When I got into my high school years, I was pretty much the smart-ass mouse in the corner. I wasn’t the loud-mouth, I was the one whispering the one-liners to her best friend, causing her and the people in the immediate hearing vicinity to snort and laugh out loud, getting them into trouble. All while keeping my goody-two shoes, “who, me?” *blink blink * innocent eyes reputation intact. Teachers loved me. I was straight A’s and kept my head down. Mostly – I just didn’t get caught. Sneaky-ninja-me. I wanted to be an actress in a comedy. I knew I had the chops, played the lead in my senior year play. The acidic burn of my vinegar-mouth kept my friends in stitches, and earned me the title of “Queen of the One-Liners”. Loved it. LOVED. IT.
When I finally became a young adult, and a parent, I wanted to go back to college (I quit after a year and a half, and yeah, I still smack myself for that) and become a high school counselor, or an English teacher. I love the written word, I hoard it at home, snuggle up to it most nights like a favorite blankie, and read, and re-read, and re-re-read my most favorite books till they fall apart, and I have to buy another copy. I also went through a lot of painful emotional things in junior high and high school (don’t we all) and I knew I could help. However, it was not to be. Being a single parent was a lot of work, with very little money, and I took what jobs I could, just to make ends meet. But I was back to being the cheerleader, to my friends. Cheering from the sidelines, watching other people make the points, and honestly wanting them to succeed.
I had one bad marriage stuck in there, when EldestDaughter was little. He filled my heart with vinegar, and I pretty much swore off men forever. He was abusive and he started my anxiety problems when I kicked him out. He became a stalker, and frightened me so badly that at one point I was willing to move 2 states, or feign my own death to get away from him. Luckily, I didn’t have to do either.
As my daughters grew, I was lucky enough to meet Xxxxx, and we fell in love, got married, and had OnlySon. I pinned my happiness, hopes and dreams together with his. I didn’t regret this decision.
And now? Well, I like to think that I’m back to being a Cheerleader – for the right reasons, this time. I would love to go back to college and get a degree in counseling, but I fear that I’m getting a little long in the tooth for all that studying. My CRS (can’t remember sh!t)can’t handle it. I have done clerical counseling in the past, mostly just a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to hold while someone went through something painful. I like giving comfort and encouragement where I can. And I try to always keep my encouragement honest. If I don’t agree with someone, I will simply tell them that “I see it differently”. I always hated platitudes, but I do realize that a kind word at the right time can make a world of difference, especially if it’s heartfelt.
And now, I’ve purged the words, so I’ll be off, and allow you to get back to your regularly scheduled programming. Thanks for listening and Happy Friday!