Owning It

The sun shone bright through the French doors into the breakfast room, as my older sister Meg and I sat at the table for mom's predictable biscuits and eggs. Meg, our resident peacemaker, wore her comforting smile (she still wears it daily), and her auburn tones changed in hue as the sun woke in the spring. Growing up in a house full of little women, we each had a role to fulfill and a part to play. As the oldest she had to be brave, and make sure calm remained among everyone in our two story brick home. The seasons which marked the unrounded calendar of my youth were full of adventures at the creek beds, grass houses, wild blackberry treats, and breakfast in the morning watching the sun shine through the backside of our home. Illustrations of Emma playing with rocks, Meg singing throughout the day in her green sweater, Beth hiding out in her room painted the deepest depths of the ocean blue and frolicking with baby kittens, and Liv and Rene following the behaviors and actions of us older siblings. Memories of those times still dance in my mind. It was naive, yet natural for me to think that our untouchable life of laughter and tree climbing adventures would never end.

As my sisters and I aged, each summer made us aware that time was moving and life in the forced glass box was far from the reality of our existence. My scenery of summer sunsets changed from starry farm fields to city skyline, and I began to see that my sisters and I did not understand the reputation we held, nor did any of us want the responsibility of looking “perfect”. As a child of the Southern gospel, living a life of mistake or error was not permitted. The goal was to master perfection, or at least look the part. I want to tread with humble caution. Who I am today, respects and honors my mother and father, and I love them dearly. However, I stand strong in my notion that I disagree with the childhood mindset in which I, maybe even some of you, was raised. “Fear authority, do as I say, do not ask questions, never color or think outside the lines.” I grew up thinking misbehaving was not a sign of exploration but defiance, and I was required to believe and think the same as my parents. My 31 year old self wishes I could give bread-and-butter me the freedom to misbehave in order to fail and learn from those failures. I wish I had more chances in my youth to act crazy, and still be loved for the moments of doing and undoing. I desired to hear less of “You girls better act right, do not embarrass me, your reputation is my reputation, do not misbehave, or better yet, be seen or heard! ” Because, in our glass box the right way was to do as I say, and YOU girls better NOT act crazy.

Question: If I fail at the idea of who they want me to be, does that make me crazy?

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”-Alice in Wonderland

As adulthood gracefully arrived in my life, Meg’s daughter Rosie reminded me of the magic of Alice in Wonderland. What a bizarre magical adventure the book creates for young and old minds alike to fantastically wonder. When I come across adventures such as books, people, movies , or even a recipe I tend to overindulge in the details. I find myself daydreaming about the characters and the outcomes of their choices. Wanting to uncover all of the why’s behind the story, and even at times apply their magic to my own personal experiences in life. In the rabbit hole journeys I travel down, I also explore words that hold onto my heart as I turn each page. To me, powerful words are better than eating ice cream in a room filled with labrador puppies.

Through my falling I landed upon, “I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.” This reminded me of the six little women that lived in a glass box on Ridge Road.

Do we dare to wear crazy clothes? Are we daring enough to live our journey truthfully and unashamedly? Will we live our truth differently than what is expected of us? Even if it means possibly encountering the label of crazy? Those that do not value the blessing of crazy are the ones who use the word to harm and damage the soul of others. The blades of unhealthy words from exes, family members, future family, even coworkers often cut with the phrase, “You are crazy!”. What is the goal of this sharp remark? Again I ask, If I fail at the idea of who they want me to be, does that make me crazy?

Since we are confidantes, I will be the first to stand up and say, “My name is Mary and I consider myself CRAZY.” Cleaning my house relaxes me, my favorite snack is a banana and mayonnaise sandwich, finding the perfect stamp to mail a letter is a thrill , and Katherine, my partner, and I make up songs about our day-to-day, and sing very loudly and out of key. Above all, I will and have made mistakes that wounded me and others, but without mistakes, how do we grow?

We allow other people to define how certain words or unwritten expectations make us feel, and we need to take that power back. Consider that the word crazy means unique. If you are taking the time to read my silly thoughts, I want you to know that even if no one else does, you should find a uniqueness in yourself and that only you can define you. Plus, I think you are crazy unique.

“My reality is just different from yours”, What do you think at first glance? My gut reaction is an expedition. In this beautiful mess of life, my passage will look unlike yours. Simply because we each bring our own mixed bag of stories to the party. Your narrative was shaped by contrasting events, defining conversations, dissimilar failures or celebrations. How you choose to conquer your roadblocks and salute your victories will likely be an alternative approach than mine. Through my vantage point this is to our benefit, because honestly growing pains through our expedition of life will be difficult, and as unique as our fingerprints.

You should be celebrated for your individual journey and how it is different from all the other billions of people. I do not want to live in a world where we all laugh at the same comedian (Jerry Seinfeld, you are KING), order the same latte, or even like the same shades of blue. In the end we all have our own rabbit hole bizarre adventure like Alice. Acknowledge that YOUR feelings and opinions MATTER, oh my love they freaking matter the most.

Each of you deserve the opportunity to be heard, seen, and valued!

You have the freedom to be crazy unique and fall into the biggest rabbit hole you desire.

My personal aspiration for you this month, is to cascade into love with yourself. Your crazy unique self with all your burdens, struggles, accomplishments, who you are and who you want to be. I hear you, I see you, and you are worth it. Own your story, some believe it is the BRAVEST thing you will EVER do!

Sending you all my love, until next time.

-your confidante