Today, I am thankful that I figured out what I was meant to do with what the Creator has given me.
When I was a little girl, my mother wanted me to be Pasty Cline.
Please don't laugh.
My name is not Patsy because a cab driver begged my mother not to give a little girl such a horrid name.
My real name is much worse than Patsy.
Growing up, my mother wanted me to be a singer.
I hated singing.
I was put in all sorts of voice classes.
I rebelled and became a bass player.
I only play bass because my step-daddy couldn't discern the difference between a four string and a six string guitar. I figured that the best tribute that I could give my daddy would be to be the darned best bass player that I could possibly be.
Twenty-six years later, I still suck. The day I can play the diddy below, I'll know I rock.
I never could do it.
My step-daddy was a Native American paramedic. He found me one day as I lay bleeding on a doorstep. I was roller skating and had fallen. I had broken my chin. I lost a lot of blood. He saved my life when I was five years old.
He fell in love with my mother in the emergency room.
My new daddy loved to read. Most of his books were on hypnosis and psychology. I read 'em all.
For years daddy regaled me with terror filled tales of little children being given blankets that made them sick by the government. He gave me various stones and told me what they meant to his people. Obsidian is of special significance, especially Apache tears, as they represent the pain of the natives being forced from their land.
Then one day a cop pulled me from my bathtub naked because I disrespected my politically minded uncle during Thanksgiving dinner. I was thirteen and had boobs; they were not made for his eyes. That cop came back again to ogle my mothers 34Gs. Since that day, I have had difficulty tolerating corruption.
I grew to fight authority. Government was too big if it could pay some guy to stare at my mommy.
And fight I did. I forgot about that. It took an old friend to explain why he fell in love with me. I fought for the kids people picked on. I yelled at teachers who threatened us with horrible and unethical things. I took pictures of teachers who fell asleep during class time. There was one principal who claimed that I messed around with a guy in the hallway; everyone heard me call him a pervert. Look, I was in love with someone else and this authority figure was not going to ruin it for me. Teenage girls in love don't put up with reputation damage very well.
That old friend was once the boy next door. He was a war hero. I never dated him because he is a few weeks younger than I. He still drunk dials me from time to time to say hello and tell me how much he loves his wife. She's so lucky!
Sadly, no one I dated ever admired my assertive demeanor. They all think I should let them protect me and when I go chewing out stupid people, I emasculate them. I guess I dated the wrong guys.
I realize that I'll probably spend the rest of my nights alone. I guess it is what is meant to be. On the bright side, it gives me more time to plan out ways to get under the putrid skin of corrupt officials.
The truth is that I hate it when I whine. I hate it when I complain -but- I hate it more when people in power abuse children, abuse the elderly, abuse the frail and the sick. I end up hypnotizing them on forums to try to get others to echo out my arguments.
It works about 90% of the time.
Every time I try to run away from politics or activism, some nut job has to screw up and bring me back.
Sigh...
I guess I should stay. I really have no where else to go.
Today, I realized that every flippin' thing I have done with my life has prepared me to take on corrupt government officials. My upbringing, my hypnosis expertise, my background with being abused by dork muffins and then re-victimized by a corrupt system. I even love qualitative research and statistics. It all fits.
I never quite understood the singing thing until today.
You know, if I am in a room full of corrupt government officials and I take a deep belly breath, my voice carries across the room.
So, the Creator made me a bitch and my mother gave me the voice to make my rantings be heard.
Embrace who you are. There is a reason for it.
Love ya,
S.