Let Me be Myself

Today’s theme is "Let Me be Myself" by 3 Doors Down.



Spring is coming, and my bulbs are beginning to pop out of the ground. Life is in a holding pattern right now for me though. All plans are a wait and see. I don’t do well with wait and see I’m much more a plan of attack and drive on sort of person. I struggle over minute details, plan every possible thing could may or may not go wrong find solutions for all of them and then act. To have plans that I can neither put aside nor act on is driving me a little bit insane. “Well I could…no can’t do that because if we do move to Texas that would be a waste…ok well what about…no that won’t work either…ok what if…nope, not that either.”

So Texas is still not a sure thing and yet is a possibility. If however it turns out to be half the hassle in reality that it is in theory I am going to be greatly frustrated. I have had the misfortune of a great deal of well meaning, but somewhat patronizing advice on how to live my life. I’m somewhat used to it, since I was in law enforcement for so long, and people loved to tell me what a wonderful secretary I’d make since I really shouldn’t be in that line of work. “Gee thanks…I’ll remember that.” And now here we are again, since I won’t be able to take all of my customers and business with me, people feel the need to tell me what I should do with the rest of my life.

Now I can understand advice if sought is a good thing, but just because you do not like my chosen profession doesn’t mean that I don’t. I very much like working with dogs. I’m good at it, and I make more than a decent wage. Yes, there is danger involved, yes occasionally I get bit, and sometimes I do get a hernia from lifting a dog that weighs more than I expect him too by estimation. So what? I’m happy. Is that a truly bad thing?

Matt likes me doing whatever I enjoy. He didn’t even really like me being a cop but he supported it because it’s my choice, not his. He does like me grooming because the hours are flexible, the pay is decent and at the end of the day I come home happy, albeit somewhat exhausted sometimes, no less happy.

My Gram is ever supportive of whatever I dream of doing. If I wanted to trim cactuses in the middle of the dessert into some weird tiki totem thing she’d be for it 110%. She’d tell all her friends about her amazing tiki totem crafting granddaughter and take pictures of them everywhere she went. That’s just how she is.

I made the mistake of mentioning the move to some other family members and what a mistake. I got to listen to what a great secretary I’d make, and why don’t I get a nice safe computer job somewhere sitting on my behind all day in a cute little cube like a sheeple (part sheep part person). Seriously?? I’m not a cow, I can’t stand being in a five by five square day in and day out like a calf readying for veal slaughter. I enjoy physical work. I always have. It feels like I accomplished something at the end of the day. I don’t want to work at a desk job that’s nice and safe. I don’t want to answer phones and speak sweetly to customers all day. I have no desire to live in a box like cereal. I like wrestling with dogs for a living. I like the aggressive dogs that I bring around to maybe not enjoy grooming but at least tolerate it. I enjoy the challenge of taking the dogs no other groomer would even consider taking and working with them to reach a mutual respect and understanding. It’s an amazing feeling and an enormous accomplishment, if only to me and the dog, and sometimes the owner.

To some I am simply wasting my brain, let it rot away doing meaningless grunt work. Thank you for telling me that running a business is meaningless I’ll remember that when I pay the taxes that pay for your social security in some years from now. While my business cannot compare to a multinational corporation making millions every year I’m ok with that. I don’t understand why they aren’t. To them it’s “mediocrity for the no mind”. I have a mind, I don’t find it mediocre at all. I help people, I help dogs, how is that mediocre? No it’s not life changing like law enforcement. Then again the same people hated that job too. I honestly don’t think they’d be happy with whatever I did. Maybe they would if I was indeed a sheeple, and followed the flock, conformed and kept my head down as I trotted merrily along. I can’t live someone else’s life. I can’t imagine ever asking someone to.

I guess I’m not surprised that some feel that way. I’ve never been able to please these same people no matter what I do. I never dress the right way, look the right way, my breasts aren’t big enough, teeth aren’t white enough, straight enough, and I should color my hair since it’s not really a color. It’s not? Weirdish red brown is a color, it’s called auburn by the way, and no just because it doesn’t look like the woman in the hair color aisle doesn’t mean it isn’t a color, this grows naturally out of my head I’m sorry it’s not as perfect as you want it to be. I don’t want highlights or lowlights, I just want it just the way it is. I don’t want to go blonde, I don’t want it to be black. I just want it the way it is, and I’m sorry that’s a problem for you. I am not a cookie. I cannot fit neatly into a little box and my husband understands that why can’t you? He’s happy with the way my body is, with the way my hair is. Why can’t you at least ignore it if it’s so truly grotesque for you to deal with? I’m sorry I’m the same size I was in high school. I’m sorry I didn’t gain 50 pounds when I hit 35. I know you’ve told me repeatedly that I would as if to wish it on me or curse me with it. I didn’t, and you find it bothersome in many ways. Too bad.

My Dad would have understood. Even when I drove him crazy with the things I choose to do, he let me do it. “Dad I’m going to go to the police academy.” After a minute or so of shock and the four million follow up questions, he knew I had thought it out and I was happy with my choice. He never insisted I be anything other than me. He liked the way I was. I was always the one who called him on his own stuff. I was the only one who ever did for most of his life, until he met Carol. She did too, that was part of what he loved about her. She has sass. She doesn’t accept it because she’s supposed to. She’ll go against the grain if that’s what needs to be done. He liked that. I’d call him now, and tell him all of this. He’d laugh and tell me, “Anj..Anj…” and wait until he had my complete attention. “Yes?” I’d say letting him know I’m ready to hear what he’s about to say. “Tell them to go to hell. They don’t live your life you do. If they don’t like it tell them they don’t have to.” I’d laugh and try to explain I couldn’t say that, it wasn’t nice. “Nice hell Anj. You’re my daughter and I am telling you that you do as you see fit, you have since you were born why the hell would you even consider not doing so now? ” I’d nod dumbly at the phone, which he somehow always knew I was doing. “Ok then, anything else?” I’d shake my head. “Ok then, Love ya, see ya, bye.” And he’d hang up. He was always somewhat abrupt in his hang ups. He wasn’t a fan of long goodbyes.

I just wish that for once it would be ok to just be who I was, and not have to listen to loads of advice on how much better I’d be if I were to change everything about me to suit someone else. Maybe that’s life though, maybe everyone deals with this. Maybe everyone has people telling them how to be and that’s what makes them sheeple, is that they give in. I can’t do that…it’s just not in me, and maybe just maybe someday they’ll accept that…and maybe they won’t.