Something insightful from Lovely Lady Doc a while ago on the matter of me joining what I call “The Circle of Wisdom” (AKA a knitting circle of respectable, impressive, older ladies whose company I rather enjoy actually) … Doc said this will be challenging for me because it won’t be exciting and I’m Borderline and need things to be exciting … yeah us Borderline Babe’s we need excitement lol!
I poo-pooed that. I’m retired from danger, impulsivity and excitement. I’m a sensible and utterly boring middle-aged woman. In fact, I am doing my absolute best to bring forward the natural greying process of my hair. I used Mr Google and now mix all sorts of chemicals when I can get them cheaply and bung them on my hair to increase the greyness level lol! It’s the most time-consuming occupation now that I am no longer a woman with long hair, but a living, breathing mass of hair with a small woman attached haha!
I now live in a small country town, and it was made abundantly clear (OK by one other middle-aged woman let’s get those exaggerational borderline tendencies under control here) that for any degree of acceptance, I need to be as dull as I can possibly be. She was fond of reminding me how I was not educated nor experienced enough to fit in and that I am no longer attractive anyway so I have gone out of my way to be so because I thought it might be nice to have social acceptance and make friends. She professed to be the most influential person in town. I believed her. I admired and thought her the Queen of the Valley. I let her personal narrative rule me and put me down and push me into a box that I did not fit. I realise now that she did that for her own (now) desperately apparent insecurities. Which is quite silly really because I don’t actually want to take attention from her. I have no desire to compete – we are different people and quite able to coexist in the same space – that is ok. I guess she’d hate that I pity her but hey … she needs a hug (or a lot of hugs, more hugs than others).
I have always been out of whack with others and therefore unpopular – particularly with other women. They turn rabid around me when I am me.
I don’t want fun and excitement and danger, not any more or so I say to the wrinkly in the mirror. That whole free-spirited crazy dancing in the rain, nutty outfit, lousy singing, dancing in the street, multi-coloured and totally irresponsible smile-a-tastic human being has to go …
Family disapproved, ex-husbands disapproved, the neighbours disapprove … that’s the certifiable part of me. Or is it? Is that just the happy, positive, fun, creative and natural me?
It sure feels better to me when I am that person. I kinda like her. Does it matter if others think it’s a bit OTT? Isn’t that just their judgementalness?
Is it really hypo?
Does the fact that dangerous situations make me actually feel alive and that life has meaning prove I am mad? Does it matter if I am entirely insane? Really? If I am being authentic and survive the consequences?
What is wrong with being alive and impulsive if it doesn’t hurt others?
Maybe I should just stop trying to be beige – I am not beige, so why sacrifice my quirks and colour to keep others happy?
If people want me to live, then I have to be the authentic me to have that desire, and the authentic me is a little eccentric. Where is the border between eccentric and technically loopy? Why is quirky and free a label?
Standing on a knife-edge, looking down at the world and life and admitting that yes, I am a Borderline and yes I need excitement to go from survivor to thriver 😊
Who needs a parachute anyway … maybe a purple stripe or two or perhaps a little bit of blue among the grey and just freefall.
Yes, I guess we do need excitement.