Godmama Says…
a buncha stuff.

big baby

(disclaimer:  PMS fueled whine-writing.)

My mother says that when I was little, when she perceived me to be growing too quickly as mamas do, she would ask me plaintively “What happened to my Baby?”  My response to her from the time I was  toddler on, was to point into my mouth as if to say “I ate her!”

I’m all grown up now …or so the clock says.  Moving onward and upward into the next era of my adult life…but sometimes (lately, a LOT of times) I wonder where The Other Me went.  Did I swallow her, too?

I’m living in a new town…new enough anyway that nobody here really knows who I was before…so it sometimes feels easy to lose track.

Everybody was drastically different ten years ago of course, but I once had wings

So all this normal earthbound slave to gravity crap can feel like, well…kind of a drag.

I don’t envy my own youth necessarily.  There were embarrassing levels of stupidity that went along with that youth.  Stupidity that I am still paying for…

(quite literally, but that’s a story for another time…)

But there was also certainty in that stupidity.  Blissful Ignorance.  The bottomless pit of confidence that comes along with being too dumb to know that maybe you can’t really fly…and that even if you know it’s not possible,  well goddammit you sure are gonna look good being the only one with the balls to try it!

I miss that pit.

I attempted flight,  managed it for a while, thankyouverymuch… shone pretty brilliantly during my moments in the air.  Sparkled and blazed like fireworks!   Held aloft on the wind of all the ooohs and ahhhs… powered by my own strength…and youth…and ignorance….

And then, like that fateful moment when Wile E. Coyote looks down to see that he’s run past the edge of the cliff,  I crashed.

That crash busted up my spirit good enough that I am only just now learning to walk again.  Just learning to feel young again at the same time as I am…well…getting, let’s say… less young.

Among other treats, my body is different and doesn’t bounce back into shape as quickly as I ask it to.   This is new to me.  New, and annoying as fuck.

But whatever…I am grown up.  Missing most of the accoutrements of being an adult maybe (the house and yard and the car that works), but I am a big girl now.   I am happily married to a good man who adores me and patiently endures my “trying to rediscover myself” crap I’m going through now.  I am healthier than I was 2 years ago, thanks to a miraculously attained gift-surgery  (another story for another time).

Funny thing though:  I seem to cry about more shit now that I’m a “big girl”.  Without that pit of confidence and presumed immortality that I had before, I feel all the little punches that life throws harder lately than I used to.   Simple disappointments and hurts that once rolled off my armor or bounced off my tight little glittery butt are now knocking me totally on my ass.

Maybe there is another phase to this growing up thing.  Maybe since it’s new to me, that makes me a baby at adulthood,  crying and fretting about things that will be easier to deal with as I get a hang of this unfamiliar new era.

Trying not to do so much wistful looking back,  which serves only to feed that jackass demon named Regret.  Useless sack-o-crap, that demon.  He just keeps you from getting anything done with your present life, so you can have more of him later.  Right now I’m in a phase where I don’t know what it is that my life is going to be next, so I keep looking back at Who I Was.

I was constantly inspired and therefore constantly inspiring…which is the thing I miss.  I sure as HELL do not want to re-live my twenties, NOOOOO thank you.  But I do want to shine again.

I’m sure the next me will look back on this Big Baby me and find all this uncertainty adorable.

In the meantime, I need my bottle…..

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