Take this for what you will: prose, journaling, rambling, storyboarding.
One of my demons is taunting me right now, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stand against it. We all have a past, a history with pieces we hope stay dormant and hibernate, never to see the light of another day in our lives again.
But here is mine. It’s rearing it’s horrid head again, and I want so badly to stop it. I want so desperately to keep it as far from the life I’ve built as possible, but it’s found me.
Now the question is, do I run, or do I stand my ground? I don’t even know if I’ll have to fight it if I stay. It could just walk right by and not even flinch as it glances over me.
But what do I do if I keep on this path and it does challenge me? What do I do if it does try and impact my life?
I’m not a coward. I don’t want to run, but I can’t be selfish. This is about a lot more than me now.
Why can’t the past stay in the past where it belongs? Some may believe nothing will come of this, but I can feel it. It’s coming for me. Now I just need to decide what I’m going to do when my demon shows its face.
I don’t know
what you want from me,
But I’m on the verge
I need something that you won’t be,
And now you’re running away from me,
But I’m on the verge
No matter what you were to me.
I want more,
So more I’ll be
Because I’m on the verge
There are a few things in this world that I can handle. You want to call me names; I don’t care. I know who I am, so have fun making yourself look like the fool. You want to bash my writing, or my car, or my house and job, I hope it makes you feel better once you get it all out because it doesn’t affect my day to day. I can handle anything you want dish if it pertains specifically to me. You can run your mouth all day about me, and I won’t care.
If you dare to cross the line of talking about my daughter or how I am raising her, the choices I am making on her behalf, then, my friend, you have another thing coming.
I cannot handle someone attempting to tell me how I should raise my child. I will not let you take another breath following your first sentence to even continue the thought you might have had on how I am choosing to bring her up. What I say for my daughter, goes. Period. Your opinions do not matter. Know your place because it isn’t here.
On the other side of that token, I welcome advice because I’ve never raised a child before. I will gladly listen to genuine recommendations, and may even seek them from time to time. I have asked many mothers before for their knowledge on certain aspects of motherhood, and I have received the best guidance.
But when your advice turns into chastising and demeaning me as a mother, we most definitely will have a problem. Do not argue with me when it comes to the rules I have set for her. Do not undermine what I have said. Do not bring up my daughter’s name or my parenting skills in any conversation with negative words.
If you do, the only thing you will walk away with as the result of this discussion is a clear idea of what a mother bear looks like, and I will be damn proud of it.
My daughter loves one of Dr. Seuss’s books, “Oh, the thinks you can think.” As most Dr. Seuss books are, this one is full of silly rhymes and random items thrown together, but it is also a parent’s nightmare because of how all over the place it is. It jumps from simple questions to complex, compound sentences with a rhyme scheme that doesn’t exactly match the previous page. It’s hard to find a rhythm. Certainly, not one of my favorite Seussian books, but she enjoys it.
It does makes me think (see what I did there?) of how in the world that man could come up with such crazy, yet coherent books that even children love. I then let that thought train spiral into what and how my brain thinks, how my thoughts are formed, and how I see the world. Do I see it in a mix array of things that are all thrown together and forced into insane yet manageable cohesiveness like Dr. Seuss?
Nahh. I’m more of a logical mind in the sense that everything has its place, but I will admit there are times where my brain processes and clumps thoughts together so effortlessly that even I sometimes feel lost on how the train got to that station.
Our minds are such curious things, and I think I’ve just learned to appreciate the genius in Dr. Seuss’s book. It’s like a challenge to not only the child reading the book, but to the adult. I think even Disney once said that “Even adults were children once.” Maybe they are both on to something. As we become adults, we may need a reminder to think more like children, with an open mind to all the thinks we can think.
Now I’m thinking of planning a trip to Disney. Where’d that train come from?