An Explanation Before the Occasional Demon
I'm going to start with a bit of honesty. I almost got out of bed last night and posted what The Words demanded that I write, but I decided to do something totally uncharacteristic and let them rest awhile. In a way, I'm glad I did. These words, I think, require explanation. They aren't the first to require such explanation; I just usually skip it and figure anyone who doesn't get it can suck it.
Recently, however, I drew fire from a newer reader about a few of My Words. She thought they were about her. Indirectly they were, but directly they were about me. She just happened to be there when the demons started their dance, a nuance she didn't quite understand. What I want everyone to know is that My Words are about me, always, always, always. They are how I express my happiness, my curiosity, and my ideas. They are where my theories about life and spirit develop. They are also where I occasionally exorcise my demons. The Words she misunderstood were an exorcism of sorts. The Anti-Everything Pills (AEPs) only do so much to maintain my sanity. The Words often do the rest.
I have always written about life, specifically my life. I'm no different than anyone so I assume people like to read what I write because in some way my life mirrors theirs. I suppose it's good to know that happiness (and misery) have company. Long ago I vowed to post everything I write (I have only deleted two posts out of more than 1,000). This means my readers get the good, the bad, and the ugly. They've seen me dance, laugh, and cry. They've met my friends, my family, my girlfriends, and my demons. Life means all of these things.
And life is what my readers get. This week they got a small glimpse of my demons (and in a moment, they will get another). It had been a minute, but for some reason something struck a nerve and the little guys got all stirred up. They poked and taunted and pushed me a little closer to the precipice. And what did I do? I fought back and wrote about it. This go-round hasn't been too bad. Either I'm getting stronger or they're getting weaker. Maybe it's a little of both.
Last night The Words demanded that I write directly and specifically about my demons. Because I've included a bit of honesty that could be damning to me if misunderstood, I added the few paragraphs above as a 'prologue', an explanation, of sorts. I want my readers to be clear - I'm fighting and winning, even if I occasionally need an extra (legally prescribed) pharmaceutical boost.
~
'I've had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I've come through...'
~ Queen, 'We Are the Champions'
These demons are interesting. They come back time and time again. Over and over. I fight them and try to keep them from getting stronger. I'm pretty good at it. Most of the time. Other times, I'm glad that I have a xanax handy. I like to think I'm strong enough without a boost, but I'm not going to lie - occasionally I need a little something to keep them at bay. A well-placed xanax usually does the trick. The good thing is that by 'occasionally', I mean not very often. My sense of self fights the demons better than anything pharmaceutical ever could. I know myself. I know my strength. I know what I bring to the world. That knowledge is power. Most of the time. But then there are the moments when the demons get the better of me. Their sticks of rejection and stones of anxiety beat on my soul. I could easily give in to them. Somehow I don't. I may bow, but I will not break.
Over and over the same thing. The same thing. Same. Rejection. Always rejection. They choose the 'other', whoever she or he may be, and I am left alone with my strong sense of self and the occasional xanax. It's a damn good thing I like myself as well as I do and that I'm very good at rationalizing everything into a positive. If not, the demons would have gotten me long ago. But they haven't and they won't. I am too strong for all that.
At the moment, I'm tired and considering that occasional xanax. Just so I can sleep. Just so the demons will sleep. Otherwise they may beat on me all night and make me call my sanity into question. I am many things and one of them is 'sane'. As long as I keep the demons in control. I can't avoid them. Apparently. In human interaction there is and will always be rejection. Especially for me. I'm not sure why, so I call it 'whatever' and fight the demons with positive thoughts. And the occasional xanax. Thank God for the occasional xanax.
Recently, however, I drew fire from a newer reader about a few of My Words. She thought they were about her. Indirectly they were, but directly they were about me. She just happened to be there when the demons started their dance, a nuance she didn't quite understand. What I want everyone to know is that My Words are about me, always, always, always. They are how I express my happiness, my curiosity, and my ideas. They are where my theories about life and spirit develop. They are also where I occasionally exorcise my demons. The Words she misunderstood were an exorcism of sorts. The Anti-Everything Pills (AEPs) only do so much to maintain my sanity. The Words often do the rest.
I have always written about life, specifically my life. I'm no different than anyone so I assume people like to read what I write because in some way my life mirrors theirs. I suppose it's good to know that happiness (and misery) have company. Long ago I vowed to post everything I write (I have only deleted two posts out of more than 1,000). This means my readers get the good, the bad, and the ugly. They've seen me dance, laugh, and cry. They've met my friends, my family, my girlfriends, and my demons. Life means all of these things.
And life is what my readers get. This week they got a small glimpse of my demons (and in a moment, they will get another). It had been a minute, but for some reason something struck a nerve and the little guys got all stirred up. They poked and taunted and pushed me a little closer to the precipice. And what did I do? I fought back and wrote about it. This go-round hasn't been too bad. Either I'm getting stronger or they're getting weaker. Maybe it's a little of both.
Last night The Words demanded that I write directly and specifically about my demons. Because I've included a bit of honesty that could be damning to me if misunderstood, I added the few paragraphs above as a 'prologue', an explanation, of sorts. I want my readers to be clear - I'm fighting and winning, even if I occasionally need an extra (legally prescribed) pharmaceutical boost.
~
'I've had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I've come through...'
~ Queen, 'We Are the Champions'
These demons are interesting. They come back time and time again. Over and over. I fight them and try to keep them from getting stronger. I'm pretty good at it. Most of the time. Other times, I'm glad that I have a xanax handy. I like to think I'm strong enough without a boost, but I'm not going to lie - occasionally I need a little something to keep them at bay. A well-placed xanax usually does the trick. The good thing is that by 'occasionally', I mean not very often. My sense of self fights the demons better than anything pharmaceutical ever could. I know myself. I know my strength. I know what I bring to the world. That knowledge is power. Most of the time. But then there are the moments when the demons get the better of me. Their sticks of rejection and stones of anxiety beat on my soul. I could easily give in to them. Somehow I don't. I may bow, but I will not break.
Over and over the same thing. The same thing. Same. Rejection. Always rejection. They choose the 'other', whoever she or he may be, and I am left alone with my strong sense of self and the occasional xanax. It's a damn good thing I like myself as well as I do and that I'm very good at rationalizing everything into a positive. If not, the demons would have gotten me long ago. But they haven't and they won't. I am too strong for all that.
At the moment, I'm tired and considering that occasional xanax. Just so I can sleep. Just so the demons will sleep. Otherwise they may beat on me all night and make me call my sanity into question. I am many things and one of them is 'sane'. As long as I keep the demons in control. I can't avoid them. Apparently. In human interaction there is and will always be rejection. Especially for me. I'm not sure why, so I call it 'whatever' and fight the demons with positive thoughts. And the occasional xanax. Thank God for the occasional xanax.
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