The Regular Resurgence of Witchcraft

On my 2571st Tuesday I was verbally informed that I am no longer fun.

I agreed.

In the past, I would have been so violently angered by this that my rage filled reaction would have been my response. Doors would have closed and locked. Bridges would have become kindling.

I too remember the old me.

Instead, forgoing more sleep than I wanted to devote to the idea, I wrestled with the kernel of truth inside of the comment.

In fact, I was much less fun in the person’s eyes.

In the morning, I walked 10 thousand steps before 10 AM, as I do every day since I made that goal for myself.

In that time with me I concluded that I shall wear this new badge with honor. I didn’t truly think therapy would work when I started but I felt out of options.

There was no other choice but to treat myself with the love withheld from me as a child. I had no other alternative besides making peace with my past and previous behavior and have consistently been spending time building scaffolds of joyful moments in my own presence, keeping my own counsel and discovering and living what I value.

The road I walk has always been fated to be partially at least, not typical.

The shame that would have triggered an outburst and a severing of ties no longer has as powerful a grip when I breathe deeply. When I smile at myself.

I set out, terrified, to change.

To not be anyone’s source of entertainment or amusement in order to fit in. To not be discouraged by ancient abandonments by caregivers who weren’t nurtured themselves.

I was afraid to stand alone and be at peace with the woman in the mirror and did despicable things to myself and others on a validation hunt.

Hopeless, I sought help. I still seek it. I am becoming.

So to hear after many moons shared that my countenance has actually become markedly estranged to previous iterations is a relief and offense need not be taken considering the source is external.

Am I done growing at this big ol’ age?

Not even close.

Am I still the most incredible person to be associated with in a one hundred mile radius of me at anytime in any direction? Assuredly. Do the opinions of others bear any weight on the pleasures and principles I choose to espouse? Hardly.

I reacted better. I responded with acquiescence, a skill I wrongly thought mastering was coupled with extensive insecurity and pity. Yet the doors swing wide on my side. All bridges to anywhere safe are tested and firm.

No doubt, I’m not fun anymore. Especially if fun means anything goes. Especially if it means being tactless and reckless for attention.

Especially if it means being the court jester, comic relief or Baby Huey.

As I write this on my 2571st Wednesday, having shaken the weight of yet another label free from my character in rooms I can choose to frequent or not, I feel just a tiny bit more free. Who knows what else I don’t need that might be shed soon.

Nawl being the fun one was a novelty side effect of self loathing. That’s no longer who my actions declare me to be. Changed by my own sheer will to survive this life at peace.

And guess what?

That’s fun as hell to me.

I can’t wait until tonight to catch back up on my sleep. 💋