Thursday, February 26, 2015

50 SHADES OF MILDRED

When I think of how far I've come from the person I once was it not only amazes me, but at times, I don't recognize myself at all.  Yes, it's as if someone else once resided in my shoes.  I was a person who lived on the edge, had poor impulse control and didn't know the definition of doing anything the safe or moral way.  One might surmise that the fast lane caught up with me and maybe it has...maybe this "slowdown" I feel is in some sense an atonement period or the simple, but harsh realization that much of the time I wasn't a good person.  Although in the past I longed for love, I never found it...now...well, let's just say I don't feel equipped for it.  The Mr. Wonderful I recently had in my life turned out to be not so wonderful, but I was okay with that.  I think I knew going in that it wasn't meant to be, but I have to admit it was nice to have someone show some interest in me even if it didn't last very long.  When the moment of truth came, it didn't hurt.  It actually felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and the feathers had been scattered.

I think back to when I flitted from man to man in reckless abandonment.  I often lived the tasteless joke: "What's the difference between being kinky and being perverted?"  A kinky person uses feathers and a pervert uses the whole chicken.  I'm not saying I was abusive to my feathered friends, but if I remember correctly a few of my many lovers clucked or quacked a time or two in utter delight.

After my first legitimate heartbreak, I never seemed to let myself fully believe in the forever after kind of love.  I allowed that experience to confirm that true love was a figment of the weak-minded and emotionally feeble. I believed in the here and now type of relationships.  I believed in mind blowing sex with all the wrong people and yes, I lived dangerously where sex was concerned.  I'm often amazed that never came back to bite me in the ass...or maybe it has because now I'm a hermit satisfied with life without a significant other.  I live life with a huge bag of feathers and no one to tickle!

The other night I tried to compose a list of ex-lovers and I couldn't do it...too many were faces with no names. What I composed was a disjointed, unpleasing melody...an anthem for the promiscuous. I suppose at the time I knew their names, but who they were obviously wasn't important enough to remember.  I cringed when I thought about how close I came to trying out the oldest profession in the world.  What stopped me still is a mystery...I remember the hotel room and the gentlemen with a heavy French accent, but when it came time to get paid for my services I just couldn't do it.  I was hungry and homeless and living on the streets.  I was young...barely 15, but I knew what I was doing and that it was wrong.  I suppose even though I was desperate I still had moral fibers holding me together.  Now, those moral fibers seemed to have choked the life from me and keep Mildred from being an old, worn-out feather in anyone's hat.  Now, I am, but a gnarly feather duster to be kept in the hallway closet!

14 comments:

  1. A sad story indeed. Still, you were saved from a horrible fate for a reason. You have a mission to fulfill. The universe has spoken.

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    1. And so has Delores! Thank you and I was just reading this week's Words For Wednesday...I've missed joining in. I guess I'll have to see what I come up with.

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  2. I am sure your story will have many more pages and they are for you to write. The past is the past and there is nothing that anyone can do about what we did or didn't do during that part of our life. However, tomorrow holds opportunities, we just have to be open to possibilities.

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    1. I tell my tale in small installments...it's what works best for me for many reasons. I totally agree with you about the past, but when one is experiencing depression it's difficult to look towards tomorrow with optimism.

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    2. I understand as I have been down that road. I had to get help and I found my way out of the deep hole I was in. It has been 20 years and although I have bouts of sadness, I have never returned to that dark place where I tried to hide from myself.

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    3. Unfortunately, too many people share a similar story. I know a lot of my depression stems from my general health and the illnesses I have. At times it just seems very overwhelming.

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  3. Look inward my good friend. For I wish you could see what I see in you. Hang on because its what you do and you are loved. But....most of all look UP....He's there even if you don't know it or feel it. It is rare that anyone "feels" it, that's why it is "faith".

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    1. I envy you for having faith. It's something that's always been absent in my life. I guess you know that since you've known me since I was just a kid. What hasn't been absent in my life are good friends like you. I feel blessed to have a best friend like you who not only accepts me just the way I am, but who thinks I'm special and gifted. Thank you for being there!

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  4. I don't know how I missed this post a couple weeks ago. Interesting story for sure! Is it really true? You were on the streets at such a young age? That's so sad. I'm glad that you are OK now and survived!

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    1. Yes, it's really true. I sometimes write about those days and how I got to where I am now. I ran away from home just a few months past my 15th birthday and lived on the streets until I was probated to a drug rehab at the age of 16 where I stayed until I was 18. When I look back now it seems almost like someone else's life or a dream. Some people long to be young again and I long to be far removed from my youth.

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  5. Sad, dark years. Reliving them in your mind is so horrible. I hope writing relieves those memories.

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    1. Writing became a trusted friend to me at a very early age and continues to be there for me throughout the good times and the bad.

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