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Tuesday, September 3, 2013

I Think My Sub-Conscious is a Small Child with a Colorful Vocabulary

 Hello again you Beautiful Internet People!  I have recently arrived at the conclusion that my Sub-conscious is actually a spoiled rotten, foul-mouthed, self-destructive 3-year-old that is clearly intent in causing as much mischief as a herd of elephants in a china shop.  Just what I needed.

So, how did I come to this carefully worded conclusion?  Funny you should ask, it all started the other night.  If you have been following along around here you might remember I told you all about that terrible nightmare I had the other night, the one where I woke up needing to die.  Yea, that one.  Anyway, the next night, my husband, being the oh-so-wonderful guy that he is, took my bad dreams away from me and had them for himself.  (Don't ask, he just does that kind of stuff for me, a lot. I have no clue how, but he does.)  So, last night, as we were settling into bed for the night he says, "there will be no bad dreams tonight, for either of us."  Now, when I say things like that to him, like "no stealing all the covers tonight", or, "Stay on your own side of the bed tonight", his subconscious actually listens, and usually does what I have asked.  Mine, on the other hand, apparently took this as a challenge.  "You can't tell me what to do!  Fuck you!  I will have all the fucking bad dreams I want!  And there is nothing you can do about it!  How do you like me now, mother fucker?"  Yeah, she's kind of a little bitch like that.
                             
So, of course, I had at least half a dozen bad dreams last night.  Most of which involved my husband kicking me out of the house saying he was "tired of dealing with your shit".  When I told my husband this morning about the dreams he says, "well, that's easy, just quit with your shit then." Which was immediately met by my response of: "No.  Fuck you.  I put up with your shit, you will put up with mine.  That's the deal."  I told him when he married me that I am not going through another divorce, ever.  The only way out of this marriage is by somebody dying, and since I am a little busy right now figuring out how to live, dying is no longer an option for me at this point.  

NO, that was not a challenge to the Universe.  Yes, I know I am going to die eventually and there ain't much I can do about that, but lets not speed it along right now, okay?  Pretty please.

I think I digressed for a moment there, let's get back on topic.  Um, ... what was I talking about?  Oh yeah, the 3-year-old that is running the show in the back of my head.  It would appear that she is a little upset with me.  Can't say I blame her.  I am pretty tired of my shit too.  And so it comes down to my husband being right, ... again, ... damnit.  I reckon it is time to just "quit the shit" that got me here in the first place.  Not to keep him from throwing me out, but to convince myself to let Me out of the self-imposed prison I have used to punish the rest of the world for my inability to conform.  

That's what it is you know, I have been beating the shit outta myself for 30 years in order to punish a society that refused to acknowledge my value.  That worked out really well for me.  Not.  At any rate, I think everyone has been sufficiently punished now, so it is time to get to work on acknowledging my own value and sharing that with the world instead.  Now that sounds like a better plan.  And that is the one I am working on right now.

Until next time ...                                          

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