Drama Queen

The chicken or the egg?
Which came first?
I can really break my brain trying to solve that one.
So fuck it, I can't declare.

At some point in my life, early on, Mom started referring to me as a "drama queen".
She didn't say it with admiration.
The rest of the family picked it up soon enough.
So, amongst them, I will always be a "drama queen".

I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't think I earned my title, I was feisty as fuck!

A real pain in the ass.

I still am.

I used to be ashamed of this.
I also used to be confused about this?
Like, which came first? The Title or Me?

Then I had a mini ME.
And, just as mom had always hoped for, I got one just like me.

She's feisty as fuck!

I could maybe call her a drama queen?
But, that wouldn't even scrape the surface about who she is.
She is a handful with the biggest heart I have ever seen.
She is strong and confident and scared shit less.
She is beautiful and interesting.
She is going to rule the world one day.

That's my kid.
NOT my drama queen.
My KID :)

I'm not a DRAMA QUEEN either.
Two words could NEVER define me.

I'm a lot of things, but dramatic is not one of them.
I don't do things for effect.
for  D R A M A   (jazz hands)
I do things because they're right and I stand up for them.

I can, and will back down when I am wrong.
Not always,
I'm not perfect.
But, I try.

I look for solutions and answers and FUCK YEAH, I speak up about them.
Which often makes me look like a bitch,
or to the outsider a drama queen.
It's hard.
But, it's who I am.

I am no longer ashamed or confused about this part of me.
And my baby WILL NEVER BE!
She's she.
and
I'm ME.

Last Hit

This goofy little blog I'm up too is a direct result of trauma I went through.
That's how I roll.
Life gives me lemons. I make Chicken Piccata with capers and lovely butter sauce.
I can't give up. I can't give in. I just keep trying.

I played a KICK ASS game as a kid with my little brother.
We affectionately referred to it as the "last hit" game.
Whoever got the "last hit" was the reigning winner, until the next "last hit".
A soft sly hit was the MOST productive, but if you really wanted to win, the key was to NEVER QUIT.

Never give up.
I've never given up.
I want to sometimes.
I Never will.

Many people have uttered this mantra.

I've uttered it a million times.

Words are nice. They help you cope.
Who the FUCK wants to just cope?

Copers are victims.

DOers are not.
I can't cope.
I have to DO.

I had the benefit of a lot of trauma in childhood, so I got good at this.
I learned how to NOT COPE, but DO.
DO SOMETHING!

Sometimes I let my guard down.
Sometimes I get tired.
But, I don't quit.

If I quit the "last hit", my little pain in the butt brother would win.
Can't have that!

This game may still be going on today.
If I ever see my little brother again, I'm gonna hug him,
SO I can slap him in the back of the head.
So  I can get the "LAST HIT".
I have to.
I can't quit.