Guest Post From a Persistent as F*** Unicorn.

Will you PLEASE just friggin write a consistent blog already….

 

Hello, this is your friend Am here from The Bus Stop (insert plug for my blog early. PLEASE SIGN UP AS A FOLLOWER. Link here.). I am publically pleading with MER via her own blog to start writing again. Here are a few reasons why

1. MER is fabulous. She is witty and charming and the world NEEDS her.

2. Blogging is good for the mind and soul.

3. We want to hear from MER! We love her, we love her writing and we WANT more!

Mer, remember when we promised to each other that in 2013 we would consistently blog? Well, you haven’t blogged since February….. mmmkkkk

.Please come back. It’s been a while (insert that sappy song here).

Let’s inspire each other! Let’s do this together for a year. Are you with me??????

Your loving friend,

Am xoxox

 

BIO: Am is the writer of the Bus Stop a blog about a girl who discovered a unicorn living behind a waterfall. She enjoys writing, reading, music, Mermaids, Coney Island, Hankies, Coffee, YA, Whiskey, the smell of dog paws, napping in the park, knowing where to find a loo, birthdays, and people that smile.



A Little Tooo Much...

So, I don't know why I'm blogging again.

Everytime I write something here I think to myself, "Oh My Goodness, You.are.a.tool. Take it down. Honestly, I could be putting it into a journal and it would be much more private and less.... Just less. And maybe that's the point. I want to put it out into the universe, send it away.

After publishing the Fragile post, I immediately wanted to take it down. Does that make any sense at all? I want it there to get it out but I don't want it there because you read this. I'll be honest, whenever people are too honest and emotional and sensitive in their blogs, I just roll my eyes. I'm like ok, you just want attention. That is obviously judgy me doing that, but because I am like that I have this overwhelming fear that I seem fake and I honest to God just want to be really friggin genuine. If I am nothing else in life, that is the one thing I want to be and aspire for.

So this is where I am realizing that I really do care what people think.......

Only, I don't care if people think that I'm crazy, loud, obnoxious, funny, sarcastic, big-mouth, judgy or an idiot; because I am all of those things and those can all be fun. However, I do care if people think I'm wounded, sad, hurt, weak, dishonest, incapable of strength, insecure and basically just an all around cry baby. I don't want to be the cliche walking wounded person. I'm not that person... Not completely.

So I guess it's possible to be all of these things, at the same time. Some are hiding others, but they are still real and genuine. Right?

Fragility.

So many things are so fragile, cracking and crumbling and gone so quickly. Fragility of mind and body itself can come and go. Leaving strength to return just as urgently as it left.

It's a very confusing state to be in, feeling so utterly breakable that with just one more little push, you're gonna go down. The tears right on the edge of your eyelids, but not spilling over. It's not just about sadness either, that fragility, even joy can make it spill over. Laughter. Any of it. Feeling anything at all can make you fall, make you tumble out of your own skin and then you are in trouble. Then you are just bare.

So you gather that strength that you thought was gone, you gather your skin and put it back on, maybe adding a layer of armor to it. Ever so quickly so no one sees your ass flying out in the wind. Because that would be quite the sight to behold and most definitely make for an awkward conversation, an awkward moment. Being stared at. Nothing is more awkward than people looking, gawking at you in slight horror, slight amazement.

Be Honest

"If you're gonna write something, be honest, Trisha." - Me to myself, just now.


Unfortunately there was an incident this morning where I just came to a point that I could not listen to my daughter talk about hair, make-up, legs, feet, clothes, this girl, that girl, bangs, tights, shirts, pants, fashion, etc. for one more second. I have been listening to it for months now and I just exploded. I just yelled, "Would you please talk about something else besides your freaking shoes, your hair, your eyes, your feet, your height! You're beautiful! I know it's where you are in life right now, but you gotta get past this obsession with your looks and move on! You are who you are, who cares about other people's this and that. You are you! You are beautiful!" I just couldn't take it anymore. It's all she talks about.

I shouldn't have yelled. I know. It bothers me as much as it bothers you but for the love of all that is holy, she isn't even 12 yet. If she is starting all this fashion talk now, what the hell is left for 16? I don't even want to know. Don't get me wrong, I love fashion. I love shopping and doing all that stuff with her, but there's more to life.

The worst part is, I feel it's my fault. When she was younger, I may have been slightly obsessed with fashioin and that may have molded her mind into thinking jeans and sweaters in combination with the right necklace and boot makes the world go round, because it does. Although, like I said, there are other things.

This is where I am at right now, One. I need to bring more discipline, and by discipline I don't mean sending her to her room for online shopping but rather controlling ones self when it comes to things like "fashion". Also bringing more substance into my childrens lives so that the things that youngens can get a little obsessed with, like fashion, can be realized as just what they are. A fun afterthought. Two, Chill out and don't take it too seriously. Three, apologize for yelling.

So, instead of shopping as bonding, we will be doing more museuming as bonding. More science and nature as fun rewards. I'm thinking horseback riding and nature reserves, Music lessons. You see where I'm going with this?

 "Let's talk about Science, Kids!" - That will be me.

It's a fine line, folks. One day you think you're doing great as a parent and the next day you think you're an idiot. Most days, both are true.

I Got Dreeeeaaams

Dear Heavens, you can have them. I don't want to remember them.

When a dream comes along and you have it, so lucidly that you wake up crying and you are paralyzed by the fear of it. Well just.... Fuck that. Often when I hear people talk about their dreams and how they always dream of this that and the other I get a little jealous. I get a little sad that I dont have such tangible dreams. *Que the screeching to a halt record noise.* Over it!

So last night I had a dream that one of my beloved progeny passed. The bizzare awareness that I had of her even though she was gone was overwhelming in the dream and even still, now, knowing it wasn't real. I was consumed with grief and unable to leave our home. She kept telling me to go and I couldn't, because she was there. She was a ghost in our home and I couldn't move away because I couldn't leave her there, alone. What do you get when you analyze that? I wouldn't know.

 From there it evolved into something weird in which a man in an and airport gave me a whole bunch of jewelry from a dead guy and, after googling it, he found out one of the rings were worth $200,000.00. I put it in my pocket and said thank you as I ran for the gate.

Looking in the mirror... It's not always a bad thing.

Today, as I washed my hands, I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. Sweet Jesus. I look like this everyday? Honetly?

As I have recently been dealing and pulling myself out of a quasi deppression type deal, I have been starting to notice what I have let happen to myself over the past year. I don't even know how it happened. It's like one day about a year ago, I just sat down on the couch and stopped doing everything. Noth completely though, which may be why I didn't really feel it happening, I still did daily chores and things that needed to be done, but I stopped caring about any of it. Without even realizing it, I carried on with that for a long time. I didn't stop caring about other people, but I stopped caring about myself. Like nothing I did mattered.

While on some level I realize I do matter and I am supposed to care about things, that's logical. That's what any person with some assemblage of life and knowledge and logic and spirituality should know about being a human and existing. It's just like, that message wasn't getting sent home, the synapsis were missing each other on that one. Does that make sense?

There is also my overwhelming sense of not wanting to burden anyone with my problems. I am most often unable to put myself first in any situation. It's very hard for me to make decisions based on my own wants and needs. I always defer to someone else. Trust me, I'm not tooting my own here, this is a quality about myself that I actually quite loathe. I can't tell you how many times in my life I have missed out on something I wanted very badly or I allowed myself to be treated horribly, and without love and compassion because I didn't want the other person to feel bad for being an asshole. I mean really? What kind of person doesn't want their tormentor to feel bad? Doesn't want the monster to feel pain?

It actually took my husband getting very angry with me and confronting me with certain things that I have been doing, for me to really understand that I have to talk. I have to make thoughts into words and express them. Otherwise, I become what I have become.

So what am I doing? I'm not sure but I'm trying to be more of a person. I have a job that matters to someone, I have responsibility in my life.  I mean, I'm not growing flowers and sunshine in my internal organs, but yes... I feel like at 33 years of age, I understand that I am responsible for my own shit. I have to allow myself to matter for it to actually be a thing in life. I have to take something seriously and treat it like it matters.

Just thought I'd share that with you. Reader.

Oh. This is what I looked like in the mirror when I was washing my hands... Just for a visual and also because I like taking pictures. SMILE.

 

Yes, that is a Twilight shirt under an Army P.T. Hoody. Heeeey!

 

Pinny Pinny Pinterest.

I'm gonna name my next dog Pinny... Mainly because I'm not having anymore kids. SMILE.

My Unicorn over at the Bus Stop, is Super. She told me I had to do a grateful jar so I am. Here it is:

 

Heeeeey.