Friday, February 19, 2010
You In Your Glass Houses
Why can't other people leave your own life alone?
Who's business is it besides yours and whoever is directly involved in it anyway?
I loathe and abhor people who are on the outside looking in and think they know more about you and your life, or the people in it than they think you do. That they know what is best, what will make you happy. What is right, and just and what will make all things right and perfect.
Newsflash, had I not already tried your likely unoriginal novel ideas, walk a day in my shoes, my mind, my life before you sit in your glass house and cast stones my way, that glass is likely to shatter and cut you to pieces.
People are forever in a state of judgment. Judgment and denial. They scorn and look down their noses at your decisions, your lifestyles. Then balk and say they aren't judgmental. Their snide comments meant to glide off your back the way water off the back of a duck in a rainstorm. Not the case as such my friends, sorry.
Who are you exactly, on your pillars, your high horses to know what I need? What my life requires for balance and happiness? That I share is only a mere scratch on the surface of all that goes on. And you, you spectators to it all, with your scorn and disdain looking at me and the way I live my life, who are you to say it's unworthy of anything? Anyone?
I could make someone very happy as a matter of fact. YOU could even know that person, but it matters not to you, because it's not in your conventional ways. I could never fulfill that Donna Reed image of wife or mother, fit with my apron and dinner prepared when the man of the house arrives home from work, children pressed and clean, house a glow and smelling of cleaning products.
I am disheveled and unconventional. I live in organized chaos. I am a good mother and I work my ass off. I am not a substitute for day care nor am I a person to fit into someone else's molds, but alas that very reason I am makes someone happy perhaps and it matters not. I am financially unstable and a medical mess. I am emotional and callous and am a walking contradiction.
I am not black and white. I am full of piss and vinegar and I will say what I think when I think it, whether appropriate or not. I am not going to apologize for my mistakes, for they are mine and mine alone, and I alone will fix them. Not overnight maybe, and not without the help that I may ask for from time to time, but I will do it on MY terms.
And you, in your shattered glass houses will sit in awe as I traipse by you triumphantly, as you wallow in your cuts and sores, blood drying slice by slice, and I, I will be the one to smile.