The New Kid

I think I figured out what’s bothering me.  Aside from the fever, chills, fever… sneezing… coughing mutant microbes (yes I am a baby when I am sick).

I mistakenly believe I can ‘anger’ myself better.  Except that in most cases, it works.  Today I am feeling *cough* miles better as I *cough* headed to Frisco for the day to get ready for a big event.

*Sneeze*.  Yep, miles better.

Anyhow driving home tonight northward bound from Frisco to near the border of Oklahoma (we’re about ten minutes away from the Okies) I had time to think about a feeling that I absolutely hate.

Insecurity.

It’s funny how people assume that someone who is confident will always be confident in every situation.  I am a Taurus.  Think of me as a secret introvert who learned to be an extrovert (to survive) and one who likes her home to be in order, her food to be delicious and lots of family and friends around.  I am also big on hugs, kisses and cuddles.  As long as I am not stressed, during which time it’s dangerous to try to touch me.

I haz teeth.   You haz sympathy for my husband right? You and I both.

patricia jo peacock 2

By: Patricia Joe Peacock http://artodyssey1.blogspot.com Note to self… I need her art.

And yet if you allow me to feel secure.  Knowledgeable in what I am doing.  Surrounded by people I respect and trust… I am a powerhouse.  I’m capable of doing some pretty amazing things.

But I hate being the new kid.

I hate getting lost in Texas.  I was headed to Sherman and ended up in Garland Texas.  Laugh… seriously, only after you have consulted a map will you understand the impossibility of that kind of u-turn.

Directional impairment for the win!  Cool like that…

I hate that I sound different than most Texans.  The accent is most pronounced in North Texas and I understand in West Texas.  If you are looking for cowboys and tumbleweeds … aim due west. Apparently that is “Lonesome Dove” country.  I haven’t had much time to explore yet to be honest, but I want to.

I’m in an environment where I am very much the new kid.  Can I call my Dad, Mom, Step Mother, Step-Father, Sister …. fuck it…   :(   When I need a sense of my roots I call my best friend Diane.  Her voice is as good as it gets for my tired heart.  It’s always like a piece of milk chocolate melting.  Sweet, honest and very good.

Actually there are quite a few people I could call that are good friends, but I don’t.  I always worry about burdening others with my rumination.  I burned out someone like that once and since then, I learned to file it away and share rarely.

Except with Kevin.  He hears it all.  But that’s kind of his job as my husband eh? <— Cool my Canadian ‘eh’ endures.  VICTORY!

I’ve been given an opportunity that has shaken up my infrastructure again, and it’s a blessing and a wonderful opportunity.  Of course with it, came tense transition, tonnes more work and a shake-up of my business. Again.

Transition… you know I love it.  [Insert glare].

Driving into the setting sun tonight I found myself singing along to Iggy Azalea. Not that I can rap but I like her.

I wonder what the new people in my world judge me as, when they look at me.  Someone disorganized or hindered by the immigration process?  Someone irresponsible or uncaring for leaving my family and friends behind?  Do I look like someone privileged or someone that has had everything handed to her?

I used to buy my 501’s at a thrift store in Toronto and I learned how to eat rice five days per week, because that was all I could afford.  But I took nothing free from anyone.  And anything that was mine from 2007 forward I earned with blood, sweat, tears and very hard work.

And I still feel like I could have done better for myself. But I never expected anyone to do it for me, or make my path easier.  In fact, if you asked the people who really know me, you’d find my path was made harder by my need to ‘adopt’ or ‘fix’ or ‘rescue’ people I found along the way.

I figured if I was stronger by character or constitution and God put them in my path, it was my job to provide something for them.  And many times that kindness was exploited and abused.

I have a hard time trusting now.  I assume malice is possible before kindness and for a sensitive poetess, that is like living in a shell that makes breathing a lot harder.

Patricia Jo Peacock (13)

By: Patricia Joe Peacock. New art crush. http://artodyssey1.blogspot.com

Every once in awhile I take a chance and show someone my vulnerable.  And I pray they don’t eviscerate me with it.  My bandwidth for mean people is maxed out, and I need to be around kind people for the next decade I think.  And only that sort.

I hate being the new kid.  For all the dragon that the outside world sees, I am exactly that vulnerable. Emotionally when I am feeling tired, and sick and weary of just… negative things, gossip, spite, dishonesty… I just want to crawl into the chest cavity of my husband and let him filter my world.

He sees people for who they really are without any difficulty.  And me?   I guess I still assume everyone is good and end up consistently heartbroken every time I am wrong.

Can you go through so much emotional adversity that you stop being brave enough to take chances on new people and new things?    I hope not.  That would be like death to me.

And then maybe, I just need a little more sleep and a spot of chocolate.