really feeling this right now…

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Faking it

Faking It

I’ve done a lot of thinking on this general topic lately, trying to get a grasp on who it hurts most – the faker or the believer (really – they aren’t the fakee LOL). And in all situations, the FAKER comes out holding the bag. Should the believer ever find out s/he was being lied to – there’s that and the acceptance of what they thought they knew having been a fabrication. But for the faker, it was the never getting what they were really after, having to get really good at pretending they did, being surrounded by folks who are NOT depriving themselves of the real thing and mask that they’re lacking… And then, should they ever reveal their true nature, probably have to do a gangload of explaining and answering questions that they’d probably rather not do – but are compelled to do. After all, they did play with said believer’s emotions in a way.

This is most applicable to emotional faking (even though the majority of you were just in the diner with Harry and Sally up to now). And although, in a past life, I was guilty of that too, this time, I’m addressing being… Emotionally creative, if you will. At the end of the day, ye who is not truthful with thy emotions shall hold the short end of the stick. When all is said and done and the need for true explanation arises, you’ll find your self peeling back the many translucent layers of fabrication that piled up over the years – and once sorting through the mire, you realize it might have just been easier to say -

I truly love you.

You really hurt me.

I wasn’t satisfied with what we had.

It didn’t make me happy.

I expected more from you.

You were expecting too much from me.

That was my fault.

I was hoping we’d try harder.

I didn’t feel important enough to you.

I should have let go of the past.

You mocked my feelings and I didn’t want to feel that way again.

I was hoping I meant more to you.

You disregard my emotions and that leaves me feeling irrelevant.

Or any combination / variation thereof that seemed more complicated to express at the onset of the acting. We all, as individuals, feel that we’re always right and everyone likes us as is (after all, we worked hard to be THIS person). It’s a hard pill to swallow when someone challenges that.

It’s a MUCH harder pill to administer.

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Shed

Shed

Not to relate to a snake at all… considering the implications that has… I found this article to be really interesting and relevant to me at this time in my life.

From WiseGeek.com

Why do snakes shed their skin?

The skin of snakes is often a point of curiosity among those who observe them. Unlike many other animals, snakes shed their skin on a periodic basis. While other creatures may simply shed skin cells or hair, a snake actually rids itself of its skin in one continuous piece, a procedure that can be likened to removing a sock. This shedding is not without purpose. Snakes shed their skin to allow for growth, as well as to remove parasites from their old skin.

….Snakes shed when they grow too big for their skin, comparable to the way humans outgrow clothing. Humans shed skin cells too. However, instead of losing skin cells as one continuous and noticeable piece, humans lose numerous, tiny skin cells each day. No one really notices this shedding, as human skin cells are small enough to escape observation.

Interestingly, snakes shed their old skin when their new skin is formed beneath it. The new skin has the same patterns and colors as the old skin that is ready for shedding. When the old skin is shed, however, it doesn’t look exactly the same as its replacement. It takes on a nearly transparent appearance. “

I could over analyze it for the reader, but some comparisons are simple and evident.

The bottom line is change is needed for growth. Always.

Life altering change is on it’s way…

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Locking Up

Locking Up.

They were some scary days. The unknown always is. You never knew what to expect. Each night is frighteningly unusual. And whatever came your way… it was you and your sisters / brothers (if you were blessed to have them – I see you solos) against

But the harder shit got… the tighter you held on to one another. If someone tried to get at your 1 or your 6… didn’t matter where YOU were in the line… you broke your neck to protect them. If someone tried to take something from you… everyone pitched in to protect it, and should someone have happened to have gotten a hold of anything precious, you all worked on very inventive ways of getting it back. You moved as a unit. And when you got scared… you locked up… HARD. Held each other close not to lose sight of one another. So no one could pull you apart as hard as they would try. (And they would. Repeatedly. Relentlessly.) After the pain and craziness… it’s with those same sisters you’d sit and reminisce about those times. Laugh. Shake your heads. Remember. And mentally take note of how far you’ve come.

You’re on many different lines through out your life and maybe never know it. That obvious one. Work mates. Chapters (of any organization) working towards a goal. Family units caring for a loved one. I’ve realized my latest line. And I believe that it will be the most important one that I’ll ever be on. We’re going through it. We realize it’s us against the world. But we’re working hard to protect what we’re working to build and fending off dangers that want to pull us apart.

I promised him that next year this time, we’ll be sitting back laughing at these times as we reminisce on how hard we stressed on somethings that in hindsight seem so easy. But until then… we’ll hold tight through the storm. Unbreakable. Locked up.

Me and my LB.

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Decompartmentalize

Decompartmentalize

I usually can keep all my hurts in their respective compartments. “Work Hurt”, “Heartache”, “Organization Hurt”, “Friendship Hurt”… you get it. If I’m suffering from hurt from work… I tend to not take it out on my Sorors or my husband. If AKA did something to screw me over, I tend to not take it out on my co-workers… and so fort. I’ve always been adept in isolating the hurt… dealing with it quietly and then carrying on as I always do with my other “compartments” as if nothing was amiss.

Even with the events of last year around this time… I managed to be alright with everything else in my life.

Today I visited my mom. And saw her laying there. Sick with fever. Lethargic. Slurring her words. She asked me how my day in school was today. A cold she’d been “fighting” (I use very loosley because I’m sure it was just ignored) has progressed and knocked her down. She hadn’t taken any of her meds. Case in point. She was NOT doing well. Out of NOWHERE.

And I felt all my little compartments begin to disintegrate. My chest got tight. I didn’t feel like talking to Earl. I didn’t care about Thanksgiving coming up. I shrugged off the work I needed to do tonight. Nothing mattered.

A friend of mine asked me to talk about it. And all I could muster out was…

“Dude… it’s my MOM.”

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