Who am I

 Maybe it's the position of the moon but my world has been off kilter the last few days.  I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain what I feel, but I'll try.  

They say not to bottle it up. I've said it myself, to myself, and to people that I love dearly when I see them struggling to communicate.  My best friend, my husband, the one person who I feel truly understands me, sits just outside my grasp right now.  For the first time in...well, my entire adult life...I'm at a loss for words. Maybe it's because the words that come to mind cut like a knife and I've become so good at ignoring my own emotions. The thoughts I've had are debilitating, paralyzing. Yesterday was a serious lesson in discipline and patience as I fought back sobs from the time I rolled out of bed until I finally crashed after midnight, last night.  But for the first time ever, I didn't talk about any part of the storm that was taking place inside me. I simply explained it all away every time it would surface in my mind and kept myself occupied so I wouldn't have to deal with it, I guess.  Truth is, I feel pretty selfish. I'm pretty confident my husband thinks I'm a better human than I think of myself. He tells me constantly.  Typically, we're yin and yang, balancing each other out.  And when I'm in a funk, he pulls me out of it and loves me through it.  Yesterday, I was emotionally unreachable.

I want to talk about it.. But I don't want to open my mouth and allow all the things to flow freely because inevitably, I know I won't be able to stop.  I also know that while my problem could probably fit in a thimble, once the flood gates open my problems will suddenly need an ocean. I've been told I talk to much.  My whole life, I've been teased about being a motor mouth, constantly going off on tangents, rambling, and generally not knowing how to shut the hell up.  It's a serious problem, I know.  But better out than in, that's what my dad always said.  I'm pretty sure as a child, if it existed back then, the doctor's would've diagnosed me with ADHD.  At the very least, I should've been treated for all this anxiety.  It's only gotten worse as an adult. To put it mildly, when I want to speak, to make a point, to answer a question, my brain has 9000 words it's trying to put together to form a sentence or two and when I open my mouth, all 9000 come out, all at once.  I'm not sure how to fix that. I have been able to curb the sarcasm through the years and I credit that achievement to some humbling moments when I saw myself through someone else's eyes.  I'm still sarcastic and sometimes even funny.  But all that funny is literally me just trying not to be me. 

There is a lot of pain locked up in this 46 year old body.  There are wounds that will never, ever heal. There is a vulnerable tenderness, just beneath my mostly, outwardly appearing tough skin. I've been through some stuff that has inadvertently created that tough skin.  At this point in my life I feel like that was God's plan to protect me.  Such a fragile flower I can be. People have said things like, "I would not want to be on your bad side". Do I give off that bad ass vibe of "fuck around and find out"? I have never in my life felt like that person, yet somehow, I convey this to others through my words, actions, and glances. Where does that even come from? Does it come from my childhood somehow? Maybe from listening to my father tell 1,000 stories about how he was tougher than the other guy, or how he was so strong he could beat up a tornado? Maybe it comes from always feeling a need to protect, whether it was my baby sister, my friends and family, or many times, myself.  A few times I can recall going to my dad to tell him how others had treated me, unsure of how to feel about it or how to deal with it.  And every time he would tell me that I shouldn't care what other's think, that they are just taking something out on me because I'm an easy target, tiny and soft spoken, and that they are just words.  I was 'better than them' for not allowing it to bother me.  Well that shit hurts when you are a kid and your peers are saying derogatory things to you and about you.  And when other kids laugh, it makes you feel so alone and helpless.  And when you hear it enough, you start to believe it. Kids are sponges.  And they don't know any better. They don't know how to deal with all the crazy emotions they go through, much less someone else's. Yeah, maybe that fight or flight stuff started back then.  All I really ever wanted, as a child and even now as an adult, was for someone to listen. Maybe I don't really have anything to say. Maybe there's is no one point I'm trying to make.  But if I can just get it all out I'll feel so much better.  At least, that is what my chaotic mind tells me. But now, as an adult, I hear that I 'talk things to death' and it makes me feel like that lonely, helpless child again. Immediately in my head I'm responding, "I'm sorry".  For what?? What am I sorry for? You don't have to listen.  I'll talk to my damn self.  There's that fight or flight Sami, again. 

So I'm a motormouth.  I'm also an "open mouth, insert foot" person, or so I've been told.  Those 9000 words are not always the ones I should say.  But if I have to take the time to sort through all 9000 to find the ones that will not get me in a bind, you know what happens? I forget. I lose my train of thought all together.  In the time it took me to 'think about it', my brain already started thinking about something else.  It's absolutely imperative that I just get it all out, otherwise, you are missing my point. Ok? So why is it so important to my brain that I say ALL the things? I just don't understand. I know I am guilty of saying things that most others wouldn't and it's not because I think I know more than anyone else. I just don't know how to close those flood gates. I promise, once it's been said, I absolutely know I shouldn't have said it.  And that's where that sarcasm dwells. No matter how dumb I feel for saying certain things, or how funny I try to be to cover it up, the guilt of not being able to control my mouth never goes away.  I sometimes lie in bed at night, thinking about things I 'accidentally' said, and I cry about it like a big ass baby. Then I realize I'm being a cry baby and I just get mad at myself.  I can't be the only one that does this.  

I'm not diagnosing myself here, but I'm pretty sure if I took this to a professional they would tell me there's some OCD somewhere in there.  For example, laundry.  In my head, you know, when I talk to myself, I tell myself that the clothes need to be folded a certain way so they fit in their space properly.  There are a few ways to fold a towel.  I'm a half fold, tri fold, half fold girl. This way I can fit two stacks nicely in the towel closet. If you fold them too wide, you can only have one stack, right? I mean, common sense.  Not only do I re-fold the towels when someone tries to help and folds it differently, there is some misfiring going on in my brain and at that moment, I can't focus on anything in the entire world but getting that towel folded the RIGHT way. I start rage folding after that. But not like, how dare someone fold that towel like that! It's more, me yelling at myself about why it really matters.  I'm the only one that gives a damn about how it fits in the closet. Then I'm arguing with myself in my head for 10 solid minutes, only to end up just feeling like a big bitchy jerk. That is the actual definition of controlling.  But I swear I'm not trying to be controlling.  I just need help trying to figure out how to not let it bother me when someone folds haphazardly. Sigh.

One thing that really gets me feeling sorry for myself is when someone spits some truth at me about my 'habits'. When someone throws shade and references my shortcomings, putting my business out there in the universe, smiling, as if it's supposed to be some cute, loving gesture or joke, I can physically feel myself shelling up. Maybe a little bit of that is me being soft as butter, getting my little feelings hurt, and pouting, internally.  Maybe.  But maybe in my mind I feel completely disrespected and bothered that someone who is supposed to love me would be so careless and hurtful toward me for their own shits and giggles.  Is that the same thing? I feel like it might be the same thing.  My chaotic brain won't let me decide.  And if you think for one second that I ever let that shit slide...uh, oh.  Fight or flight.  So, yes, it bothers me.  Yes, I get in my feelings.  Yes I give death stares when my feelings are hurt.  And yes I will absolutely hold a grudge unless you acknowledge your jackassery. No one likes to feel belittled, ok? If my reaction bothers you then maybe you should think about your actions.  Or maybe I should use that backbone I spent so many ears strengthening.  Maybe I should have more of a sense of humor.  Sometimes, it's actually funny. It doesn't feel good when people say hurtful things. And maybe at 46 I should know when someone is just 'messing around'.  I used to be able to take constructive criticism and even laugh at some of the things people would direct at me. The older I get, the less I am willing to endure, I suppose. In my mind, no matter how you explain it to yourself, it's bullying.  If someone spoke to someone I love the way some people speak to me, momma bear would be all over that. 

The last few days there hasn't been one day that I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.  I have felt so weak, defeated, and insignificant that I haven't wanted to even get out of bed, much less deal with myself. There is no one thing that happened to trigger this pity party.  There is no one person who hurt my feelings or did me wrong.  I simply woke up.  I saw myself the way others apparently see me. And it hurt like hell.  Who am I? To some I am controlling.  I am stubborn. I am a motormouth. I am a cry baby. I am sensitive. I am weak. I am bitchy. I am annoying. I am argumentative.  What I think I am is confident, sensitive and strong, determined, fun, ambitious, self-less, and  empathetic. I want to believe that deep down, I'm none of those things that other people think they see or hear.  But maybe I am.  I'm also human and my number one trigger for almost all of those negative things...is disrespect.  I know I'm not perfect, nor do I strive to be.  There are a million things I'd like to change about myself.  Today I think I'll just love myself a little more.  It sounds like I need it. I'm sure on the outside no one will notice and it will be more of the same.  But on the inside, I promise you it's changing. I'll still be sensitive because I fucking care.  I'll still be stubborn because I know I don't deserve to feel that way. I'll still be a motormouth because I actually like to talk. I'll still be annoying and argumentative because I like to stand up for what I believe in. I'll still be controlling because that's how people see confidence sometimes. I'll still be bitchy because sometimes that's the only thing people recognize, not their own hurtful ways. My feelings will always get hurt easily because I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I'll still cry.  But if you ever want to know why I've changed, just ask yourself why you haven't. 

I'm not perfect.  But I'm me, unapologetically.