I’m delving into archives of me. (I’ve mentioned that)
I’m different. (I’ve mentioned that as well)
There were pieces of me that mentally struggled to hold up my physical self that I now realize were pushed to their limits and truly slipped off the edges of that cliff of survival; holding by that thin vine.
All of my life I have only known how to push, pull, stretch, propel forward with legs dragging and shoulders weighed down; yet a sardonic smile upon my weary face.
Physically, I hadn’t realized my body was showing me signs of betrayal. Why would I believe a doctor and her warnings – they herd in patients like cattle and give you less information than Dr. Google. At the very least they want to medicate you before they diagnose the actual problem; problems… or complete physical rebellion.
As my body gave in something unexpected (to me) followed. I mentally, emotionally, spiritually took a sabbatical as well.
Wait… what? Okay, that’s it for now.
That's not a smile Pidg. When did you become the deer and where did the headlights come from. The smile that didn't reach my eyes to anyone who knows me... the non-expressive eyebrows. But she's coming along...
Needless to say, but I still feel the need. I miss me. The me that not everyone else appreciated and still that makes me giggle. (I take that as a good sign)
So I’m a non-conformist. I don’t follow the herd. I step out of the line that is naturally created in humans regardless of their age. Peers, follow peers… except for Pidg, ahh crap there she goes again… what’s she looking at?
Yah, that girl.
The one that marches to her own beat when no one else hears the drums pounding wildly. The one who wrote in color and spoke in non-rhyming poem. The one who lived life with such spice even when others find her life without taste. (Or maybe that’s about my choice of ‘style’ wink)
The girl… that girl who ran against the wind just to feel her hair catch in the breeze; the way the sun warmed her pallid skin. That girl who was independent, built of her own nature, spoke without filter and wielded sarcasm as a wicked shield.
She now stands bare looking for her own footprints. It’s a far climb but finally as I gaze up that mountain, the pinnacle that holds her place step one has been accomplished.
I noticed ‘she’ had disappeared. Something that hadn’t been noticed before.
I began slowly speaking to others again, so naturally I felt I was ‘all better’. Perspective is so unclear at times when looking within. But I see it, just a bit, me on the peak of that mountain. That girl that doesn’t need approval; it’s her, the one who lives and loves and screams her own heart.
The heart that has been stifled by illness to the body, mind and soul. My goodness how I love fragment sentences. (They speak to me. Truly.)
And out of all of the concerns I could have - this one, this is the largest.
I have become incredibly boring. No really. That bothers me more than anything else.
At least I look like I'm plotting something when they took this one. That's a little more familiar.
Who the freak took my voice away? Why have I stopped playing? Why do my pidglets even speak to me anymore?
So where was I? No, not in my thought process; I mean where is that girl?
She was funny, sarcastic, out loud, sorely out of shape yet ran with the season none the less.
She smiled, oh how she smiled and now oddly, it feels un-natural. The sound of my voice speaking to others sounds unfamiliar to me; as if it’s not me speaking.
But ‘that’ girl knew who she was and always recognized her own chatter. Mostly because of other’s expressions and reactions at what she did say. Don’t get me wrong, often it was a good reaction…yet sometimes those were the faces of shock or uncomfortable looks of should I be seen with her? She's hyper to say the least but likely unbalanced. (smirk)
Why do uncomfortable moments make smile? Oh that’s right, because I don’t have uncomfortable situations, I only create them for others. Well, I used to. (There’s that smirk again)
See I’m here… somewhere. Deep, slightly buried but reaching out I feel the air on my hand. I was a girl who was witty, but without all of her wits. I was confident, strong, independent, fearless and brave. Now, in the mirror there is a haze of grey, just covering those colors right? Not gone.
I have found that I am missing. It’s a start. It gives me reason to pack up my remaining personality, grab a hoodie and boots with good traction and move up that mountain. Start the hike, begin the journey. On this one, I must go alone. But I am oh so grateful that my pidglets are there to place a few bandages and continue the encouragement. They have been patient to say the least.
I have been accused often of speaking, talking, about anything, everything but yet I don’t allow others to know me. (truth) For me it’s as if I’m telling a story. But this story, that I don’t’ recognize, is unfamiliar. Never did I in my wildest imaginings (and there have been many) would have wagered I would be the one to not know who I am.
Life is about growth. He places challenges so that we might overcome them. This world is a University of knowledge and the Professor is often silent… or so it seems. He is speaking quietly so that we might listen more intently, more spiritually, more often.
I will take the encounter with great confrontation. I will defy the monotony of the girl who is holding my place. I will find the me that I was born to be.
Even small steps make an impression in the sand. (Right?)
I’m coming back for better or far worse. The gauntlet has been thrown down. I accept the task. Mundane and well… blechh… is not the woman I was supposed to be. Wish me luck…
Over the hill and through the woods, up the mountain and stumbling through my own rubble… heck Pidg, just get out the door. The journey begins.