Grinch Stole Mexico

Blame you. The thing you didn't do. The words you didn't say. The words you said that haunt and steal and creep and eat. Gonna delight in your weakness. Gonna smile when you admit defeat. Oh, the surety of the leader. Spouting words of wisdom. Pleading to the we to answer searching questions. Hate the let's. Hate the we's. Hate the what if we's. The commands to think and question inspire and motivate along with every wave of thought crazy brain thinks up. You crazy. So I smile at your weakness because I saw it coming. I am smug in your difficulty because your pride was evident. Because you put me down and ruined a part of me. Because you failed. I took the blame and hated myself. Surely no one could say such things without there being some validity to them! But you did it 'cause you crazy. For how you judge me, I don't like you. For how you disregard me, I don't like you. For how you preach instead of invest in your divine romance, I don't like you.

I smile. 

I smile because I'm right. I smile because you were wrong. 

I don't think I can help it now. I choose not to put up with that crap. I choose to stand up for myself when rude passive aggressive comments are directed at me. I look out for that poison now. I don't care if there may be a better way to do this, that, or the other, don't be rude because I'm quiet. Don't be rude to make yourself feel better and more snug. Don't say what doesn't need to be said to me. I'm not your clay. I'm not your project, your child, or your student. I will react to your disrespect and it will set me off. 

Had I fallen into and remained in my place of self loathing, self depreciative, thou art worthy servitude, I may have continued to be quiet and pining. I'm gonna break free of the power given to your words. Beak free of the condescension of your platitudes. 

I am not simple. 

I am not slow. 

I am not a less then. 

I am not lazy. 

I am not ill equipped. 

I am not uncaring. 

I am not your charity. 

I am not less intelligent. 

You would benefit from shutting up and learning to listen to what I have to say when I choose to speak. There is experience there. There is perspective there. There is value there. 

Remember to shut up and listen. 

Would you shut up and listen? Not to only hear your own pride and folly, but shut up to observe and absorb all that doesn't come from you. To value not you. 

Value not you because I won't value you. 

oh the anger

There are so many thoughts throughout the day.
Things I think.
I'd like to change a thing.
I'd like to let her know that the weirdness ruined that night to be.
I am not planning to attend.

And I've decided that I don't care.
No, I don't care.
Don't care if my opinion is the best, original, or regurgitated mess.
Can I just own my opinion in the midst of all the words.
So. Many. Words.
Because it's better than, it's less than. Less than equipped to love. Less than equipped to equip.
Do I care to be equipped? Do I care to be accepted?
All. Those. Words.
They're not for me. Not for me to soak in. Just for me to see and not hear.

"You know how to turn on the coffee pot, don't you?"

Talk like that and I'm driven away.

"Your mom forgot to tell you we don't wrestle in our house."

Talk like that and I'd like to slap some face.

"I'm so busy I can't handle all of this planning. And you're bothering me in the middle of the day. And there are these panic attacks. You do it. Say what?! Just kidding, I was just waiting on this one thing to line up. I'm on it. It's going to be a fabulous time. And are you coming to the par-tay?"

Not planning on it.

Well isn't it lovely that you are happy to not be me.

I'm gonna get away from that nasty and find a way to be accepted and not made to feel less than.
Yea, just away.

See me standing on these two feet? See me not in a mental hospital or bar or jail? See me loving my kids in my weak and flailing way? See my marriage not trashed and trust not lost but growing? I'd like some vindication. I'd like to hear you jealous of what I am, not you.
Oh, I'm so glad I'm not you....if I were that busy.
So glad I'm not you. I'd kill myself if I were that crazy. And how are the foreigners? Have you saved any? Or did you realize how selfish you are? Did you catch on to how unloving you are? How what you thought was hospitality wasn't?

Cincuenta días

Gettin hard soft feet
Balanced meal cooking cold as ice one

Colonial minded ice hearted stare one
Puedes aprender como amar there

Oh the thinks that she thinks

You're a good mother and wife.

No matter what anyone says.

Fun to think about. Fun to know that somewhere someone said it.
No, no it isn't fun.
I hate having heard it. I hate having it told to me. I tell it to myself over and over and over again throughout every day. Work so hard to undo the whatever was done to qualify as a not good mother and wife. If all the toilets are clean. If my husband gains weight. Learns to think for himself. Smile without my approval. Decide without my input. If my children are cultured enough. Busy with extracurricular activities, but not too busy. If I attend and serve at the right fit for us church. If my appearance is kept up without being vain. If the meals I make are made at home. With love. Without breaking the 5,837 nutritional fads that run through you every other week. If I refrain from teaching them Spanish because you read somewhere...
Like I could teach them if I wanted to.
But no, I'm not THAT ethnic. Not THAT Mexican.
But I am.
I am made up of contradictions. Left-brained, Right-brained in the one tiny me.
Fail to leap and leave the nest. But a nest is what I have. A home built up by hard work. Such hard work. Now able to pull myself up by the reachable furniture. Now able to shimmy to the next piece of furniture. Just barely. Without falling kerplunk. But I'm falling and falling all day long.
I wish the boys wouldn't fight.
That means I'm a bad mom.
Your boys never fought. So I'm not as awesome as you at this thing. Maybe if I left the house to work. Maybe if I had more room to separate them. To segregate them. To alienate them. Create small universes around each one to build them up separately. Completely. Into men that are separate. Completely.
If I make this homemade thing will I be as good as you? If I learn this new skill? Cook this pre-approved meal?
It got lost somewhere. My ganas. My me-ness. That one that was vocal and loud and ornery when nudged. That one that believed because it felt right. That didn't sway and look to see if what I believed or read or said or made or admired or wore or dressed the others in caused a smirk of approval or disdain. What's an appropriate word for having _____? Gumption? Confidence? Pride? Assurance?
That. That thing that left me.
After the stretch marks? The failure of oneness? The work of it all? Where's that feeling of accomplishment? Do I allow you to steal it all from me? I allow you to steal it from me. Not the outside force of your meanness and judgement, but that nagging, bragging, self destructive self.
O, that self.
O the me.
But I'd like to be mad. I'd like to tell you just how mad. I'd like to be able to stop stopping myself from saying the things that I think in the secret place of my self. All the mean and smart and funny and not funny and meaningless and encrypted things that I hold back and stop from escaping me. Wanna let them out and allow that sting of a smack to kiss your cheek.
Why say the thing that makes you feel better about yourself to me? Why say that thing that makes you so happy to not be me to me? Should shut up that spout before it stings my sensitive self. My ever grieving self. My full of myself to overfilling self.
o the me.

sicko intro liberty

Because I'm a whitewashed tomb.
Because I ruined his life.
Because I control him.
Because we could never be friends.
Because you're better than me in every way.

I'm terrified.
I stutter.
I forget who I am.
I clam up on the real me.
I overemphasize the significance of your approval.