Thinking Out Loud (5)

When You Think Someone Is on Your Side.

You know, I get nervous knowing I’m going to say all this.

Because it’s scary to say what you think out loud.

It’s one thing to stand up for myself in my private life.
It’s another thing to stand up and let the world hear it.

People post. People comment. People judge.

And yeah, I guess I have to be ready for that.

But that voice in the back of my head still creeps in:

“You use this as a crutch.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re strong. You’ll be fine.”

But this is the part I don’t think people understand.

It’s not self-pity. It’s not excuses.

It’s survival.

And even when I’m struggling — I get up, I go to work, grab my coffee, blast my music, dance in the car, and then when I come home, I do my dishes, clean, do laundry, whatever needs to get done.

And if I want a drink in between? That should be fine.

Why does it matter how I cope?

I’m not hurting anyone, and if that means I’m hurting myself, then it is what it is.

Why has it been okay for people to hurt me?

And this has gone on through all stages of my life, but yet when I do something that is frowned upon, it becomes carelessness and me hurting myself or making “unhealthy” choices.

But you know, I have never sought out to purposely hurt anyone. If anything, it’s the opposite — I’m always ready to help.

I know what it’s like to have no one come to your rescue, especially in times when you need it most.

And sometimes I think that’s my weakness because I literally want to jump in and help people, but you can’t help everyone.

And there are times I’ve had to accept that you can’t help those who don’t want to help themselves.

So when I’m alone, pushing through life and still taking care of everything, whatever I choose to do should not be judged.

But it is.

Frequently.

And by the very people who have never walked a mile in my shoes.

And to me, that doesn’t matter.

I look at things like this: one cannot say what they would or would not do if they’ve never been in the situations they are judging or turning their noses up at.

If, in this life, it’s just me — then we all only get one, so I will live it on my terms, and that’s my choice.

I work. I pay my bills. I put food on the table, a roof over my head. I travel. I’ve raised kids.

So why should the rest matter?

People have had chances. Some didn’t take them. Some live with regrets, and some never made it as far as I have because life took them too soon.

I decided a long time ago that I’m taking this life I have, and however that looks, the only person it truly has to make sense to is me.

So I will dance in the rain.
I will wear fuzzy boots.
I will dance like no one is watching.

And if that makes people uncomfortable,
that’s fine with me.

Because what I see is a person who, against all odds, survived.

Made it.

And is still here — still pushing forward, still doing the things that make her heart feel happy, and still working toward peace.