My latest rebellion has been going around shoeless. Barefoot and unapologetic.
I am sick of the day to day 'norm'. Sick of hiding my tattoos and being politically correct. Sick of 'the grind', the hustle.
Tired of hiding bits of myself. Not speaking out of turn when the 'spiritual' and 'deeply religious' get to talking. Cause I don't wanna offend. Not acknowledging my affinity for beer, when around same said folk.
Tired of tucking the bit away that cusses like a hungry sailor. That likes to hang with the boys and have the most raunchy, make my ma roll and blush conversations.
Some days putting my best foot forward is a pain in my got damn ass and i just wanna say frig this shit and carry on.
I don't want to hear wedding bell suggestions, baby questions or be interrogated about my 'shacking up'.
I am irreverent sometimes and loud. Other times I am held back and reserved. Completely moody and about to become unapologetic.
Everyone else walking around being themselves and i am tiptoeing around being po-lit.
My mother thought she was going crazy when she was around 32 - 34. And guess what, here I am, smack at 34 and feeling the same way. She didn't make the changes or step out the way she wanted. She was forced to when my dad died.
How am I being forced? By being stripped of those strong souls that loved me. They died. One by one. Then looking at my kids and knowing they need more, I stripped myself of their father. Time goes on and I am in love with a man who speaks of times people have turned away from him or didn't get him or seemed embarrassed by him.
He's unapologetically himself. And when he gets overwhelming for me, I check him or walk away. We've become sorta symbiotic in that regard.
He understands my 'hiding' and never forces me beyond certain things.
But, as I walk around barefoot with my once purple hair, I realize more and more, I don't give a fart, no, fuck. I no longer give a fuck.
And shit is about to get real.
No comments:
Post a Comment