~Mornings

Sometimes I really suck at expressing myself. Sometimes, even though I know how I'm feeling, I don't know why I'm feeling the way I do. Sometimes, the actual problem hides behind something that isn't a problem at all, thus enabling me to feel as if I can solve the problem.

I don't fear not being able to take care of myself. There's plenty of help out there, if I can't manage alone. Do I fear not being able to take care of others? I have 35 years worth of 'not being good enough for other people' messages, from my mother to my message board. I also have that much time in under the "ungrateful" whip, the "thief" whip and the "whore" whip. Do I fear more of those messages or beatings? Not really. Been there, done that, lived to tell the tale. So, what is it that I fear? When I get insecure and attempt to OCD my life, my head and my wallet into making sense, what is it that I fear?

Just flashed back to a day in High School. I'm pretty sure it was the Winter of '84. My head was shaved, and I wore a bandana to keep it warm. Not that I spent much time in school, I basically showed up to see friends, but on this day I decided to go. I walked in and was making my way down the hall, taking off my bandana, when a girl stopped me. Michelle, the epitome of Hardcore in my book, didn't often speak to me. She didn't often speak to anyone, actually. She was the growly type. That morning though, she stopped me, and proceeded to talk about my newly shaved head. She asked, in her growly way, "What are you covering your head up for?". I laughed, and brrrrred out my reason. Reason aside, she continued and preached. Always be proud of what you do. If you have to be ashamed of it, you shouldn't be doing it at all. If you shave your head, wear it proudly. I didn't have issues with the proud part, just the cold part, but that morning, and that message, stuck in my head the rest of my life... to this day.

In my life, being and/or looking "different" has often been the case. I was in style for a while there, thanks to the whole "Grunge" thing, but generally, I don't exactly blend. Over the years, and maybe because of the whole Grunge thing, blending and/or feeling accepted has become something I actually put effort into. In truth? When I think about this fact, it makes me sick. I remember the day I stopped tucking my pants into my boots, other than for work. I caved in to a snotty hairdresser/coke head who liked paying for expensive dinners. I'm pretty sure that was in '97. The move may have got me a $100 lobster dinner, but it cost me considerably more.

It was a brand new angle to the message... If you sacrifice yourself, it will make other people happy, and they might stick around for a while. Just be who they want you to be, and they won't turn up their nose at you... right down to wearing a bandana full time.

So, here I am with the woman I combed the planet looking for. Not that I blame her for wanting to rip my bandana off, or that I think she wouldn't be justified if she shoved it in my mouth to shut me up, it's just a shift and a shock. I suppose I didn't even realize that I'd put it back on... and I didn't realize that anyone could see my bald head under it... and love it ...and want it ...and prefer it.

Here I am with the woman I combed the planet looking for, worrying that if the bandana comes off, she'll turn up her nose... worried that if she sees me, she'll leave me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?