Everything changes… time changes, the weather changes, seasons change, the world is changing… so why is it so difficult for me to change.
I don’t like who I am. I don’t remember a time when I did. I realized early in life that I don’t fit in. I am different… not the cool kind of different either… the odd kind. I have been trying for several years to change who I am with no success.
I talk way too much about things that nobody wants to hear. People really don’t want to hear about the silly things my kids say, the insane things my dog does or about how much I love my horse and what a fun time I had at the barn. I try to avoid talking to people to save them the punishment of having to listen to the crazy babbling that is me. Unfortunately for them, they are often too polite and they engage me in conversation… and that’s when it all falls to pieces. The brain all too often disengages and the mouth just takes over and they are left suffering in silence as I ramble on about something idiotic. The lucky people are the ones smart enough to avoid me altogether or just politely nod in passing. I am thoughtful enough that I don’t chase them down just to gab. At least I realize that I have a problem. I don’t know what real people talk about. I don’t follow politics, quite frankly, I don’t understand it. I listen to the news, but my perception and opinions are quite often wrong. Nobody really wants to talk about the weather, so what else is there?
I am also a terrible housekeeper. I would be mortified if anyone were to come over for a visit. Fortunately for me that doesn’t happen because of that “talking thing” I have going on. So I guess in one way it works in my favour. I would like to be the “neat freak” and have a house that is spotless, but that seems to be beyond my abilities. Some days I get a burst of energy and things get tidied, dusted, swept and even mopped… and then the headache sets in from all the dust… and then there’s the dishes… and the laundry… and 2 spare bedrooms that no longer seem to have a floor. I start many things, but I never finish anything. It’s a wonder my husband puts up with me. He doesn’t get mad, or yell and scream at me, he just navigates his way through the mess, as if it doesn’t exist. I really have to thank my lucky stars that this man sees my multitude of shortcomings and flaws and loves me in spite of it all.
So I will continue my struggle to change into something better and if I should happen to run into somewhere in your travels, I will do my best not to talk to you. For those of you who chose to read this post in its entirety, thanks for sticking it out and listening to the ramblings of a crazy woman… and I apologize…