You know those days, the ones where blogging feels like an insurmountable feat? On those days I take to google for ideas, in hopes that surely a clever blogger out there has shared a list of witty writers-block blog ideas; eventually I stumble across something that clicks. The truth is, in one sentence, and then it’s off to the topic at hand, I’ve been super depressed about my ridiculously lacking medical care, worsening symptoms, and most recent SSDI denial, and the thought of getting all up in my feels here just sounds like a bad idea (being chronically ill is literally breaking my heart right now but please don’t worry as I’m okay), so instead I’ve plucked an idea off the internet that has literally nothing to do with chronic illness and without further ado…here it is.
Who people think you are, compared to who you really are.
A teensy bit of back story, and all kinds of overshare. My parents were hippies, like Haight-Ashbury hippies (as if my name didn’t give that away 😉); I was born in San Francisco in the 70s. Unfortunately, my parents’ marriage was not to be, and my mom and I moved further North to the majestic Redwood forest area when I was two. She remarried the son of rancher and we lived on a very large family-owned cattle ranch. I was the only little girl, with several boy cousins. I grew up fishing, dirt biking, climbing trees, and all the other fun stuff little boys in the country typically do. The difference between the boys and me was that growing up my mom was VERY strict about certain things, etiquette and my general girly presentation, but let other things completely slide, like letting me play in the dirt to my heart’s content. In reflection I guess this resulted in a well-mannered, soft spoken, but very shy, tomboy. Eventually my mom’s marriage unraveled, taking some of the better parts of her with it. At the age of 14 I was whisked away from my small town country life that held everything I knew and loved, to the much more populated Cardiff-by-the-Sea (a beach town 700 miles South) to live with my father, a very serious and quiet man who I’d seen twice, once at three when I stayed with him for around six months and once at 12, since we left him when I was two. We had no relationship, as he’d made no attempt to contact me throughout the years; living with him through the high school years was rocky at best. I’m going to take little to no blame for the rockiness, but I’m also not going to bore you with the details. My dad and I did rekindle our relationship in the last years of his life. Suffice to say, at one point in high school I ended up needing a nighttime mouth grinding guard because I was so stressed, I was literally stress grinding my teeth away while I slept. I reached out for help to my extended family in the early days of living with him, but for whatever reason, nobody came to my rescue. So, I counted down the days until graduation and moved out the day after, at the age of 17. In the end, my well-mannered, soft spoken, but very shy, tomboy nature, gained another label, survivor. And in the first few years after graduation, I made a variety of decisions that in reflection I question (I fully accept responsibility but I also think some positive role models wouldn’t have hurt), but in the end it’s all led me to who I am today, a happily 20-years divorced mom of my one and only, favorite son, with a boyfriend of many years.
And I suppose that leads us to today. All my adult life people have seemingly had a
difficult time pinpointing me based on my appearance. It’s not entirely their fault, in my heart there’s still a part of me that is a country girl on a cattle ranch that longs for solitude and the quietness of the countryside with a long lost yearning in my eyes, but there’s also a part of me that’s eternally preppy and needs to be near the crashing waves of the seashore. Truthfully, there’s still a part of me that doesn’t mind getting dirty, and sees things for what they are, but another part that loves to dress like Jackie Kennedy and wear pearls, and I can see how that would be curiously confusing.
I guess since I’ve decided to air so much of my dirty laundry out on the line here I will
also mention that I have major resting b**** face. What some people perceive as uppity, is actually me just being shy or lost in my thoughts, in actuality I’m a long way from uppity. Just recently my bf took a photo of me where I swear I was smiling, and yet once again, no smile (I’m including it so you can see for yourself). I’m really quite friendly, as anyone who truly knows me knows.
I guess at the end of the day, aside for my inner desire to be both at the beach and in the country simultaneously, as I’ve left my heart equally in both places, one of the quirkiest parts about me is no matter what you’ve been through I’ve (or someone who has confided in me) likely been through something similar. I used to be that person who people would confide in, that person who you start talking to and before you know it you’ve shared something you’ve never shared before. Consequently, I’ve seen a lot, heard a lot, and I think it’s because of that that I’ve also learned to appreciate the subtlest nuances in life. When you see the trials life can present, when you live them, when you watch other people go through them, you begin to really understand that the littlest things, like a blooming flower are actually very special. You learn to count your blessings. I guess in the end it doesn’t matter if people can read me for who I truly am or not, what matters is that because of my life experiences, some of which I’d gladly have let slip me by, I’m able to appreciate more than your average person, and for that I’m really very thankful because it often leaves my heart lighter and happier.
As I’m wrapping up this blog I’m thinking wow, Mishka, way to write an “all about me, my, and I” post, but I think it’s helped me remember who I am, where I came from, and that life can be really challenging at times, things don’t always happen when you want them to, but still you survive, and for that there’s an abundance of thankfulness to be had. Thank you for joining me today, now you know the kind of stuff my therapist has to listen to. 😁 I know there are about a million other things you could be doing, and I appreciate you took the time. Hoping this week is kind to you. And for those of you with resting ‘B’ face, I feel your pain. 😉 A few more doodles.