39<40

Here it is, today… the last day of my thirties! Earlier as I lay on the table while Dr. Wang stuck needles all over my body, I had a good thirty minutes in silence and of course, no matter how hard I try, my mind doesn’t shut off. I lay there writing this whole article/post/whatever the hell this is, in my head. Damn it was good. I noted all the events of the last few years that brought me to this point. I explained some ups and downs, some triumphs, some failures. Times I wanted to give up, times I almost did… and times I let that voice in my head remind me that I was stronger than how I felt. Damn it was good. I acknowledged my hubby, my kids, my friends who stood by me and supported my ideas, and my desire to begin fulfilling some long term goals and projects I have had in development for years. It was clear, concise, poetic even. This is what I get with my procrastination. Life happened. After I got off that table, I gave myself a few more minutes to relax and take in my acupuncture session (that has truly affected my life and wellbeing this year)… acupuncture has quieted my autoimmune disease from a monstrous roar to a calm, steady purr. The ability to stand, walk without pain, get through the day without pain meds… all due to Dr. Wang and his “magical” eastern medicine. I am eternally grateful. Ironically, or not so ironically, I left with my head clear and ready to attack the rest of the day. I had multiple errands to run, work to complete, emails to return, appointments to make and/or cancel. Whatever.

I value my alone time, I feel that as I drive, blasting music is when my best ideas and/or solutions come to me. Music inspires me… I can play a song and if it relates to a situation I am in, by the end of the song I have figured out the steps to tackle whatever. I can’t explain my brain rationally... it’s a mush of crazy… crazy is a bit harsh, I guess I could say “busy”... maybe a little adult-onset-ADHD… Juggling twelve project outcomes, writing contracts in my brain, responding to texts explaining where a kid/hubby left his/her backpack/pencil/black jeans/mouse/charger cable/keys/wallet/whatever…  wondering if I locked the patio door… put a stamp on that last envelope I frantically

tossed in the mail slot… plotting my best route home to defy the odds of traffic… analyzing the risk of the three cars ahead of me as one swerves a little to the left… just to explain a bit. Once I am able to translate it into some half articulation, I usually blurt something weirdly abstract to someone and they look at me as if I just cursed at them in pig-latin… (fyi a “language” I speak fluently)... I am used to those bewildering looks. I have now learned to refrain from speaking until I have time to let the cogs slow down and gather words that when said slowly, can be heard and sometimes understood. I find that all my years of silence and observing and not “voicing” my opinions (both literally and figuratively) has kind of done a disservice in my social skills as of late. I used to be a robot or for a better analogy, a shapeshifter able to read a situation and then form my personality or what I would allow my personality to exude by my surroundings. Really weird way to be… but it took me places I probably would not have not gone if in a rational state. I learned a lot about people by allowing them to be a succubus/incubus to my mindset. NOW… F that… no one’s got time for that. I think I had a point to this “story” but now I know it’s still pretty odd/vague/unclear… but guess what? That’s me. So as I shut the door on my thirties, I am going to say ADIOS… it was a ride… not a good ride, or a bad ride… just a mutha of a ride. Tomorrow I start a new day… I’m not changing… actually quite or not so quite the opposite. I am going to be me. All me. I am going to stand up for myself the way I stand up for others. I refuse to allow perception and misconception others have of me devalue me any longer. Watch out world, Anitra is FORTY and she ain’t standing in the corner of the mosh pit pushing people back in… She is the mutha fuckin’ MOSH PIT! ROAR!

Oh geez. Embarrassing. C'est La Vie

Anitra Parish