Thoughts

Life is insane.

 It lifts you up.

 It drops you from an airplane without a parachute, letting you land breathless and left for dead.

 It picks you up and nurses you back to health.

 Only to drop you in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by sharks, without rations and bleeding.

 It then takes your mangled body, dresses it up in a pink princess dress and drops you in a land filled with unicorns and flowers and butterflies.

 And then it drops you into the fiery pit of an active volcano.

 It’s crazy. When you think you have it all figured out. You’re happy. You’re growing. You’re doing positive things for yourself… That’s when it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

 The what if’s…

 The But I don’t have’s…

 The longing stare at someone else’s green green grass…

 The realization that it just will never be…

 And that’s when it gets interesting.

 HOW do you do it?

 How do you grow from it?

 How do you find balance and strength?

 How can you concentrate on being grateful for what you DO have?

 I have no answers.

 Just thoughts and questions.

 Just dreams and realities.

 That clash. That sing. That grow.

 Some exchanges are WELL worth it.

 But how do you get used to it?

 How do you silence that little voice that says: “But I want it. Why can’t I have it?”

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Deep Thoughts – A less words Wednesday…

Thinking a lot today.

My skin feels almost mine. It hasn’t in a while. Most of the time, it feels like an uncomfortable suit that itches and weighs me down. Today? It’s more comfortable and it doesn’t feel as foreign.  

My heart is beating with expectation and wonder. I hope it’s a good sign. I need it to be.

Wow, March already!

I sometimes ask myself why I have a blog.

Why do I keep it?

My blog is not about monetizing. It’s not even about gaining readers. It’s about having an outlet. A place to be real or silly or crazy. For me.

 But then, I start to evaluate my use of it. How most of my words stay locked in my head for good. Always.

 Most of my best ideas and thoughts get censored without making it to my fingers or even my lips. Why do I censor myself if this is a place for me?

 My mind? She doesn’t want conflict. She doesn’t want hurt. She doesn’t want to cause any of these things. And she? Is the boss of me. Always has been.

 It seems sometimes that I’m mute when I most want to speak. That I’m at a loss for words when all I want to do is speak out. That I’m gagged before I can even realize what happened.

 It’s horrifying sometimes. Like I have someone inside me that is in control and pulling all the strings.

 I have no idea how, but I’ve let loose more in Twitter and Pinterest. Maybe the 140 characters are easier to sneak by without the constant “delete” and “backspace” that make up most of my blog post writing moments. Or maybe that “Re-Pin” button is too quick for my mind to grasp and stop.

 The politically correct individual that’s in charge of me is maddening. She feels like she’s torturing me most of the time. The totally different and fun and scary (sometimes, it’s the truth) REAL me gets locked away. Here’s where I become all lovey-dovey wife again. My husband? He takes her out to play. He doesn’t let the bitchy censor get her way. But how? He’s learned to plan without asking me first. And I am FOREVER grateful for that fact.

 Me? I’ve gone snorkeling, I’ve ridden a helicopter, I’ve toured on a SEGWAY, I’ve jet-skied… SO much more… and? I’ve LOVED it. EVERY single second of it. If he’d listened to the censor bitch? I would have NO fun things to speak of.

 What does this jumbled mess mean? I need to do things more. I need to stop letting the fear and the censorship rule my life. I’m 37. WOW, 37. So much to do. So little time.

 So many things to say. So useless to censor.

 Sigh.

 Today? It’s Friday. And I’m wearing butterflies. And my toenails are painted dark gray. And I love it. Have a WONDERFUL weekend and don’t censor yourself. It’s not worth it.