Snarky little one............

 It's been a while since I wrote. It's been a process of fighting demons in my head, in my heart, and in my relationships. Growth of emotions has got me to a point where I can write. Old habits die hard is what creates the block of writing. The monsters in my head are fighting my sanity to gain control. My sanity is getting tired. So damn tired. Seasonal depression is a bitch. It's often the strongest part of my brain when the days get colder and shorter. 

I am fighting the monsters in my head while taking care of kids. I am playing lawyer, and advocate. I am still apart of groups, I am still an election official. I am still doing training for that, workshops for some of the other things I do because it feeds my soul, and trying to stay sane. 

Recently my biggest struggle has been bullying. I would think at almost 40 that this wouldn't be such a big deal, but it is. When you grow up in a small town, I think it hurts worse. There are less places to hide. There are less chances to meet someone new, to find an escape.

Life took me out of this town, and it brought me back. I think I grew up, but sometimes I feel like I am that wallflower in high school. That one person that most people had something to say about, either because of who I was related to, who I was friends with, or because I am perpetually that weird overweight person. 

People seem to think of me as I am still that person who I was when I left. They can't see my scars, so they believe everything is fine. They can't see the hurt, so they think I am dramatic. They can't see, and they don't care to ask, to them I am the same. 

I still have feelings. I still bleed when cut. I am still klutzy as all hell, so I can still break my own bones. I still feel, so when they hurt my ten billion feelings, it hurts worse now. It becomes a reminder of the baggage from the past, and then we add new baggage. 

I don't know why my name is always on their lips. I am a hermit. I am a damn good hermit, but it doesn't mean that I don't feel. I am not sure what I did them, at this point I think it is more of they see me as an easy target. In some ways I think my love of being hermit compacts this issue. 

What they don't see, is I am not naïve. I have been burned enough to know when I am getting played. I am smart enough to know when it doesn't feel right, to trust my gut. What they see is what I let them, what they don't see is everything. I am not arming someone with things to throw back in my face. 

So I let them walk around thinking they are king shit of turd hill. I don't have to pretend to be more important then you to make myself feel better. Being king shit of turd hill, may give you importance but you still smell like shit. You are still a shitty person. 

You see what I let you, but I see it, and to finish the pun, I smell you fresh from the farm. Go pile your shit somewhere else. This is not your farm.