because

a non robot normal feeling productive living life human being

in circling conversations 

and the small talk abounded

in the small talk in the whatevers where you don't care about what I say and I don't care about what you say, really.

and then the climax of the theatrical goodbye and the deep embrace and the exhalation of relief. of climbing back into cluttered van where little voices beg for more audio Harry Potter and there's breath there and there's life there and there is freedom there. there in the just being of being. in the place of knowing the Others are gone and the destitute and the sarcasm and the silly and immature and the life returns where there are no tears and there is no pressure to conform to the norms and there is no pressure to be a smarty talky and there is no pressure to protect from the other imperfect parenting and the perfect small talk, so skilled and slick and smooth as silk and the answers and the ability to worm into the essays of the why i do what i do.

i do 

i do too

i say little for the pleasure of seeing the awkward. no, for the solace in rising above. of not being a slick small talker, just an observer and judge and audience. just a one to sit and sweat and breathe and wait impatiently for the waiting to be over and to run to the solace of the cluttered van. our cluttered van. that not loved perfectly but still running van. 

the freedom to bask in my freedoms, please. 

the freedom to love what is lovely about me, please.

the freedom to just be in the being, please.

with the eYe twitch thinker

What I've taught her:
To absorb the selfish behavior of others
To need a safe place in the presence of stress
To force herself to believe it's fun even when her gut screams otherwise

But how do I explain that to the brat? Bratty child stresses mine so that she refuses to go without me. Shame on me for not teaching her to stand up to her boundaries. Shame on me for not teaching her that it isn't her responsibility to make others' bad behavior not affect her. When she is affected she needs to be able to defend herself. To explain her boundaries and the offense pushing her away.
But I don't do it. I never explain the offense. I never react and put up the boundary when it's been breached. I don't do that. I run away. I stew on it. I meditate on it and allow it to grow and fester and determine to not allow myself to do, say, or be that person. I don't want to cause another to feel the way that crap made me feel.
But I've taught that it's ok. I didn't even realize it. I wasn't aware. She does as she sees. How can I teach her to be brave when I model weakness? I model being a doormat? That's not healthy and I don't know what is.

And you with the eye twitch!
Is it so bad that you need to eat yourself up? So bad that you can stop yourself breathing? No need. No need for clarity. No need for fulfillment. What's it gonna benefit having the approval of the who? Not gonna benefit anyone that you'd value their approval. I don't care.

Not caring, but the need to remind myself to not care. To not care and enjoy the difficulty of the foreign. Ah, the trials of the weak. Enjoy the hardships of the crazy. Oh, surely, you crazy.
Guess I don't do well trying to make myself talk middle class. Wanna say screw you to the middle class.
But oh, how I'd love to know what a life lived in comfort would be like. What would it be like if there were enough to form an entertainment portion of the budget? But I hate you. I see you look down on me as I struggle through your cultures' choice of words. As I question to clarify what I can never comprehend. On the things I wasn't privileged to be exposed to in my youth. Did even tiny one learn to be street smart in her naivete? That's why you walk proud little one. That's why you know alpha posture. That's why you rebel against that Anglo middle class. You watched it on TV. The way you should be living. You watched it and read about it, but never lived it. Never experienced it. Just the wanting. Just the awareness of what you lack and what they have and the burning irritation at thinking they think themselves the better. The envy. Oh the envy of those with central air. With new cars. With new clothes. With new houses. That don't worry if there's enough for gas. Enough for the extras. The neverending fundraisers. Hate the fundraisers. Hate saying no. Hate the material life of the season. Tis the season to be aware of what you don't have. Of what you can't have. Of what you can't give. Cars that don't break down and die. Who care for their pets better than I was cared for throughout my childhood. The haves and the have nots. And I don't know how to be either.