For me. Feeling blessed and sad at the same time is normal. It’s explaining how I feel to people, and having people not understand and react to my normal that’s been difficult for me.
Why? Because. I’m ok feeling blessed and sad at the same time. I feel it’s balanced. It’s real and raw. And it’s a level of real ness and rawness that challenges the bypolar status quo of picking one side of that and fighting off the other that’s made me dangerous to the status quo.
I feel it’s my truest gift. Because people got some wacky ideas of what balance is? Seriously. I’m not going to go into them all? This page would just keep going on and that’s all I would be writing? Wacky ways is not why I was born to be me. I am the equalizer.
And so. Being a person feeling blessed and sad I go about my day with both flags flying and dealing with people that hate one side of it or the other and experiencing all of their challenges? Like I’m good. Alone. In a crowd? Oh hell. I’m a force of loving recognition that people don’t see in themselves? It freaks people out how I can get into their minds and hearts so quick and never go away? Most. Get used to me there as the years go by? Because I leave marks. Scares. From where I cut some shot off and out.
And those my friends and lovers, are now able to be ok, feeling blessed and sad and anything else that comes along the pike. Of life and the feel goods we feel must all be accepted, and appreciated with respect and recognition.
That’s why my Mama always comes to mind? She is one of my tools. She is where the blessed sad girl who’s also goofy and happy came from. And? The 60’s were just that. Triumph and tragedy. Growth and change. A trimming time and a growing time of the mind and the hearts of the whole planet. And I felt and accepted it all. So I could be the change agent I am today.
One who wields the sword of truth with care. Knowing full well it hurts like hell. Yet is not hell. Hell is what I cut off. The blocks that keep us from feeling it all. Numbness. Passivity. Placidity. Coping. Instead of striving to see the blessings in the sadness. My Mama is my safest feeling and my most blessed feeling I know. Both grateful and hateful. There I go. Both in tow.
And I change people thinking. It’s a natural thing being blessed and sad can turn the tables over without even a finger of the hearts and minds and body’s of people stuck on one side or the other and so bypolar. I stand in the middle. At the turned over tables. And we work it out. Like a work out. Pick the table up. Turn it back over. Pick the table up. Turn the table over. Work it. Work it. Work that middle ground. The true boardroom of the mind is in the middle ground of reasoning. Both side equally allowed to speak. What do I mean?
Left side has its job. Right side has its job. Left. Analytical. Right creative. Both are needed and they work best in the middle. Not arguing or conflicted. Focus is in the middle ground we can compromise. Who and what I ask are anyone of you arguing with? I’ll tell you what?
Feelings and ideas and believe that no longer work and need accepting and not rejecting. We must accept all of ourselves. Not just this or that. I have a two scares on my belly. It’s a keloid. It makes my tummy look? Not societies norm? But that tummy’s never stopped me from loving a man and letting him see me display my scare with loving remembrance of a place that a slice was made and a piece of my body was taken. One lives on as a child. The other now dead and decomposed. Gone. A piece of my colon. My poop shoot.
The appendix might seem like nothing to you. But it was a part of my body. They said was sick. Not know my tummy aches for my Mommy. No one wanted me to feel blessed and sad. I did it anyway. Mama didn’t realize when she gave me away that she set me free to be me. All blessed and sad. And that NO ONE. Would tell Anne what to do. Mama removed herself and got out of my way. Mama Jean did not even have a chance. But? I let her play with my mind? Swing it this way and that? That’s how her mind goes. This way. Then that. Middle ground is not her comfort zone. She like to swing this way and that. Catch me if you can style.
Mama. Is stuck in her left side of reasoning. What is the reason for you visit today? Call the guards! Victoria!! Please address this woman. She’s standing in the middle and will not let ya just play our games alone. Be gone! I banish you! Oh. The drama. Lama. I try to get her to come play in the middle with me. But she’s scared of being called crazy. I’m out in the public pool of life calling Mama to come swim? And she can’t even find her suit? Fearful of what folks think? Pssst! Mama? Everyone’s feeling blessed and sad girl? That’s what I am waking you all up too. Accept it. Snap. Stop wrestling with your own minds. Listen to the voices!! They are only dark negative voice. We don’t have to listen?
Demons to me? Are I accepted feelings that we starve and deny. Just like Mama starving and denying me? I’m an idea that brings up her most scary feelings. Her demons are starving. And I her daughter the demon whisperer have come to her rescue. With explanations to set those demons free and satisfy their urning to be accepted. What did Jesus say to the mad man in the graveyard?
He said something like. Tell me. What do the voices say? Then he said. Yeah. That sucks. How’s it feel listening to that voice? Hmmm? Well you know? It’s just a voice? Everyone hears voice buddy. Even me. Just listen. But don’t hold on. Fear and demons are like little kids who want love and attention. It’s the facing of the children that helps to calm them. Denying your fears is insanity. Running from demons is insanity. Throwing bible verses at people is insanity. The words of all the books are to guide us, written in love, without a need for fear or demons. Satan is a person who has not faced their fears, has allowed the children now demons to run rampant. Drinking. Drugging. Whatever?
It’s just voices. It’s just words mixed with feeling. Was that out in the middle ground. No need for a gun dears. Just a sword of truth to light the mediation and mediation table up so That the middle ground is the biggest place inside the brain. Cram all the feelings in there and work it all out. We are organic machines. This idea that voices in the head is bad? Is stupid. Medications are to aid assimilation’s and integrations as we face the fears and demons.
We change. The way we think changes. We all need to be ok feeling blessed and sad. I did. And have spent my life helping people get to the middle ground. I am a pro. Bono. Love child. I do need a home and a lover. That’s true. So I can work being blessed and sad and changing this world.
I’ll get ya? Hook you in one way or the other. Blessing? Or sad? But they both will meet and shake hands after you’ve met me. You can bank on it. I came from Lady Lucks vagina! Respect my Mama. Respect me. And. Respect each other.
If you got issue with me? You got issue with yourself. I love movies and you can project onto this mirror all day. It’s you. Not me. I get out of the way once someone triggered. God’s talking through me. Best believe that if I can trigger you up so bad? I’d like to just be able to drink tea like the old days with my babies. But no. People all stuck or swinging. Crying and screaming. I mean it’s ok? If you wanna swing. Go swing. Or stay stuck if you must on this side or the other.
But I’ve shown you. Swinging and stuck. Right here if you’ve noticed? My great Aunt is a teacher? Auntie O? Gran Gran too? Margaret? Lola? I may not know much of my family lines. But I can clearly see the gift those people saw in me and helped me grow. Balanced. We all get stuck and need a tow truck of the mind to come and pull us out. We all swing and can’t stop and need someone to calmly or crazily slow us down and calm us. Center is the mediation table.
I can swing. Stay on one side. My life attests to that. But after my Mama left me, no need to keep crying about it. It’s my history. Since she left I stayed in the middle. It’s dealing with everyone else and their conflictions that’s upsetting. I absorb it. Suck it up. Not sure how. But I do. Then I give it to god.
I cry with people. Mourn with people. Listen to the fucked up shit people say. Give it back. I clean it up fast. If it’s still a mess? Then someone else didn’t clean up their half. That’s it.