Who I Am and What I Want

Who I Am and What I Want

Changing Not Who I Am, but How I am.
There are things in this life that have always been a fact for me, and I have learned to accept them as apart of who I am and what I want. For one thing, I have ever had curves, well at least since I hit puberty. My weight has fluctuated dramatically as I have gotten older, but even when I was a kid, I have always had boobs and hips and—let’s just say its never been skin and bones. For another, I’m not a people person. I hate meeting new people or going out into public for any reason. To be honest, I am not real happy being around family all that much. When I was a kid, they called me shy, but I know now that I’m merely introverted. So much so, that I often find it hard to leave the house and go into public without some kind prep first.  I’m just not a people person, unless those people are at a distance, like on the Internet. I like spending time with myself, but I also love being in control of what I’m saying and how I’m saying it, and nothing helps that as a delete button. I think its why I like writing so much. I can express myself quickly on a computer screen. And finally, I’m a tomboy. I wear boot cut jeans and rock t-shirts. I hate dresses and heels and loath putting on making up(it makes me feel like I am wearing a mask). A simple fact that was often criticized by my mother, and pointed at and called a lesbian at school. I was raised by my father and my grandfather for the most part. I spent time with men working on cars and building things. I learned to fish and hit baseballs. There wasn’t a lot of female influence in my life and when there was it was fleeting.
When I was younger, I tried like hell to fight against all these parts of me, because I wanted to make people like me better or approve of me, but in the end, I only really succeeded in making myself miserable. My mother, who had the attention span of a fucking Nat, and would often vanish from my life for long periods of time only to show up again as I had just seen her yesterday. I thought if I could just do the things she wanted, dress the way she wanted, cut my hair the way she wanted, not chew my food with my mouth open, then she wouldn’t leave again. Want to guess how well that worked out?

I focused my need for affection on the people at school. I studied boys as if that was the whole reason I was there in the first place but apparently, boys thought I was too butch and often thought of me as ‘just a friend.’  I got it in my head that if I could find someone to love me and protect me from the shit in the world that everything would be all right. I wouldn’t have to feel so alone any more. Of course, all that boy chasing lead to chasing the wrong boys and finally marrying the crazy boy, kids, yadda, yadda, yadda are those fantastic fun white trash facts, facts that included shit jobs, state-funded childcare, and food stamps. By the time I was twenty-one I was divorced with two kids, and so unhappy I was looking for anything to numb that pain in my heart. Fast forward twenty years and my three kids are grown and moved out on their own. I have been married for seventeen years and with a new lease on life. I want more than anything to be able to turn back the clock, go back and find where I veered off the road I should have traveled. Even though I can’t make myself younger, I have gone back to school. I am getting a B.A in Creative Writing and English. I have opened up a website. And I am going to do what I want to do and how I want to do it. What I have learned in my forty-one years of life is that the only person I have to make happy is me. I guess its better late than never.