Hung Up On Somebody That I Used To Know- Wendy Anderson

I have been so many different versions of me in my 41 years.  I am sure you can relate on some level. I’m on a journey and I wonder if you are too and maybe you’d like to walk with me. 

When I was really young I was into my Barbie dolls and eating Rice Krispies with my Grandpa on Saturday mornings. 

I found refuge in books, probably the only thing that has stayed constant in my life. 

As I grew my identity got wrapped up in outside things. 

I was a Brownie,

                  Tomboy

      Big sister

Scared, abused child

Runaway

Thief

Rape victim  survivor

Divorcee

  Wife (again)

 Sexy, Ugly, Fat, Not As Fat, Fluffy, Angry

  Mother (3 times over)

Cook, Nurse, Peacekeeper, Maid, Jailor

Student

But I am seldom Wendy. I had a glimpse of her back in…yeah, the year isn’t important, I’m old and that’s enough you young whippersnapper. 

     

I don’t think I ever really knew me, and I want to because the glimpse of me I had was of someone I kind of liked. 

I might be trying to figure out who I am but there are some things I do know. 

I am not always open but I am real. I’m not comfortable pretending to be something that I am sure I’m not. I won’t bullshit you and tell you I think or believe something I don’t. I will however be kind about the things we differ on. I wont tell you your cooking smells bad but I might not eat your food. 

I feel more comfortable in the pages of a book then in a room full of people, unless there is a copious amount of booze, then I am able to relax and you can see me peeking out of this shell, if you look closely.  Don’t worry; I don’t have a drinking problem. 

I have a potty mouth. I like the word fuck and use it often. I have tattoos and want more. I like to sing loudly and badly to my favorite songs and I seem to be stuck in the 90’s. 

I lose my shit with kids sometimes and yell. It has humbled me and taught me about the necessity of owning your actions and apologizing, sincerely, when you fuck up.  But, I am a good mother and do my best and love them and laugh with them and teach them and hold them always even when I have to let them go. 

I push myself really hard, unreasonably so and it makes me feel stressed and short-tempered. This is really evident when we talk about my schoolwork.  

But I can be your best friend; I am loyal to those who allow me to feel safe and will defend you with every ounce of my being.

I am quick to love and slow to leave. 

I am a square peg in a world of round holes. I thought I wanted to fit in and now I think I don’t, I just want to be welcomed in, as I am, pointy corners and all.  

Oh, and eat Rice Krispies with my kids on Saturdays. 

Because the someone I used to know that I am hung up on is ME.