I don’t know about you, folks, but I think this is VERY GOOD NEWS! There is hope that there is something special out there for any one of us! Not that there wasn’t. Jus’ sayin. I need hope after my 5 hour drive and 1 and 1/2 sit down with the omniscient therapist – no really, he’s truly the bomb! I had a hell of a day yesterday. But, in all seriousness I was doing some pinnin’ on Pinterest this morning and stealing some words from some of my favs and this one came up. Stopped me in my tracks.
I clearly had a moment. Thank you Christopher Poindexter (don’t ya love that name?)
I, ladies and gents, am NOT a mind reader. I know, I know. Not exactly a newsflash. Men have been telling me this for years. But, since I haven’t exactly had great experiences with them I haven’t necessarily put much stock in what they have said. Side note: I don’t do well with women either so I’ve lead a lonely existence. One filled with dogs, cats and turtles mostly. But I digress.
I’ve mentioned many times that no one talked in my house growing up. Mom was miserable and hid. Dad was busy… (under-STATEMENT). Sister hated me and I hid from HER. I did a lot of mind reading to survive. I thought I was pretty good at it actually. I survived the 5th grade. I was a bit overweight for my age so I hadn’t missed too many meals. I was pretty athletic. I played a lot outside with the boys on my street (they were all boys – not good for a developing bipolar II girl) because I didn’t want to be inside. All and all, I was weird, but I managed to look normalish to the teachers – didn’t stand out. Little did they know what was going on inside my little bean of a brain.
I certainly didn’t feel like there was a special word in the dictionary for me… I didn’t talk much. I was afraid to talk in school because when teachers asked a question I SWEAR TO GOD my answers were so far from what the teacher was looking for……. OMG I do NOT know where I came up some of the shit… I’d end up ok at the end of the year and ended up with good grades, but HOLY OMG I don’t know what was coming out of my brain when the teachers were asking the questions. Something special for sure….. yeah, I kept my hand down a lot! Whaaaaat… was wrong with me?
Special… I was special for sure. But not special in the way that Christopher Poindexter makes me feel like I could be special! I want that word, damn it! I want a word that describes me in a way I KNOW I AM! Not this disgusting ball of bipolar, mental illness, bullshit mess – because, I’m sorry, friends, I realize we get up everyday and we make it through GOD BLESS US everyone – seriously!!!!!! But, I want a different kind of special word for that. I want a delicate, soft, purply, sweet, whispy word… with an earthy scent maybe. Something that doesn’t hint at this fight that I am MORE THAN WILLING to take on every day – or not (hehe, see battlefield).
Let US do this today people! Let’s work on this……… wipe our slates clean of the mental illness bullshit words and think of what our word would be 🙂
Thank you Christopher Poindexter – in all your coolness of a name!
I’m so EXCITED!
Over and out!