The Difference Is Me

I planned a small stay-cation just for me, right before the Christmas/New Year shebang. I figured the next few weeks would be a whirl wind of work, last minute school stuff, holiday office parties, packing, and traveling–so why not enjoy some Me time. There are tons of places to go near the City…country places, mountain places, suburban places, and city like places. There are an amazing array of restaurants, museums, and attractions. When I mentioned to a friend what I was doing, he wanted to tag along and he had an idea as to where we should go. He gave the name of the area and I choked on my heart. I had a big girl panty choice: (a) run away or (b) push forward. I chose the latter.

Certain songs, commercials, times of year, movies and the like do something awful to the mind of a bruised person. For instance, every time I see the Pandora jewelry commercial I want to throw something at the television. I still can’t seem to force myself to listen to certain songs/artists. Overall, I am operating on about 80% healing, but the other 20% is triggered by small things such as stupid Pandora jewelry commercials or Barry White songs. So, when my friend mentioned we spend the weekend in the same area that the Mistress lives, I immediately went dark. In a five minute span, I had to make a major, life altering choice. I could suggest somewhere else to go, not face it and enjoy myself without worry or stress….OR….I could tell the truth, shame the devil, and push myself past the past. I chose to face it and plan fun time with a friend.

Sure, when making the trek up, I felt like vomiting. Of course I was on the verge of panic attack when I saw the Welcome to… sign. Obviously, as I sit here writing I feel the atmosphere closing in on all sides–the weight almost unbearable…..BUT….the difference in all of this is me and how I perceive it. It is just a place. It is just an area of the state which is a part of the country which is a part of the world. This small blip of a place is nothing compared to the rest of the world, so why would I allow The Him, The Her, The This affect me to the point of physical illness? Why would I allow this to steal my fun and my joy?

On the drive up I had a little bit of time to think and unfortunately all of the things I thought of were about what I saw, heard, and experienced during The End and the development of The Him’s grand relationship. Before I pulled a u-ey in the middle of I-75 and headed back home to hide away, I gave myself a moment to collect The Me and threw on a little Bey and Pink. The only one who can make a difference in this life o’ mine is me. I get to choose what I accept & what I throw away. It is time to grow up and out. Life happens. Love happens. Heartache happens. As Mommy always says about anything I am not the first…and I won’t be the last.


2 thoughts on “The Difference Is Me”

  1. So you really are listening when I talk, I always picture the Charlie Brown thing going on in your head, you know the :wha-wha, wha-wha-wha LOL Keep it moving toward the light my girl
    – Ma

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