Michelle's House of Horrors

Everybody’s talking about, revolution
Evolution, masturbation, flagellation
Regulation, integrations, meditations
United Nations, congratulations

All we are saying is give peace a chance

–John Lennon/Give Peace A Chance

 

“Make peace with your past”

It’s one of the few  irritating inspirational quotes I don’t argue with. I still find it a bit irritating,  but why don’t I argue with it? Well, for one thing, I can’t argue with everything. It just seems like I do. If it’s right, though, it’s right.

Making peace with your past makes you happier in the present. That’s one selfish reason to do it. I wish I had figured that out  30 years ago. Yes, I realize that I can’t and shouldn’t change the past. I’ve already said that I wouldn’t if I could because of the George Bailey effect.

That was actually sort of the next point I was going to make. Making peace with your past helps you leave it in the past where it belongs.  You can’t change it anyway, so why waste your energy being upset about it?  Worrying about it is completely useless and mostly:

Letting go of it makes you free.

Which is one of the most nauseating things you’ll ever hear me say.

And you know? Peace? It’s just a good thing no matter how you find it.

Accept the past because it got you to now, forgive the ones who  did you harm then, and you’ll feel more peace now.  The past can’t hurt you now unless you keep letting it.

Now.

Thanks to the ones who helped me figure that out.

 

 

 

 

Everyone probably has someone they wish they could apologize to about…something. I like to think that I’ve been a pretty kind person overall, but I know I’ve had my moments of awfulness. I might be smarter than a lot of people, and funnier than a lot of people, but I’m definitely not one bit nicer than I’ve had to be.

Today, I would like to apologize for the following sin.

3rd grade. I kicked a boy in the face who was kneeling in front of me tying my shoes. Why? Because he was kind of a toady, he liked me, he gave me the creeps so I didn’t like him back, and he kept trying to do things for me when I asked him not to. Like tying my shoes. Even in the 3rd grade, I couldn’t stand having someone touch me when I said no. It bothered me. A lot. To be perfectly clear, I’m only apologizing for kicking him in the face.

I’m not a bit sorry I disliked him.

 

 

My heart wants to sing every song it hears
My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds
That rise from the lake to the trees

O.Hammerstein/The Sound Of Music

It’s not like I’m an actual singer. I haven’t sung in public since High School. I have no real need to sing on a daily basis. My livelihood is not impacted when I am unable to sing. No one even hears me sing, except my poor husband and the cat. Or people who have the misfortune to ride in my car when I forget I’m not alone and burst into song. (Sorry ’bout that)

But you know what? I sing. I sing all the time. In the car, in the house when no one is here. Sitting at my desk. All the time. I can’t really help it. Sometimes at work, by accident. The songs just come out. If I don’t sing, I hum. It’s like smiling. I just do it. It’s me. And I haven’t been able to sing for a week because I have a cold, and singing makes me cough. I had to drive to Eugene and back without singing a single song. It just isn’t natural. I couldn’t even sing along with Bette Midler or Elton John, which is a sure sign that something is very wrong indeed.

I feel like I’ve been someone else for a week. Someone gloomy. Someone with a song stuck in her throat. The not singing is almost as bad as the pseudo-heartsickness I was complaining about yesterday. In fact, maybe they’re related. Maybe my heart hurts not only because of the coughing causing physical pain in my chest but also because I’m not able to express my true self right now through singing which is causing me actual heartsickness.

It could happen.

Gah. It sounds like bullshit, right?

 

But I think it’s what exactly what is happening.

 

I realize that it will not be the end of the world if I can’t sing for a few more days. My heart probably won’t stop beating.

It won’t.

Right?

 
 

Keep your fingers crossed.