Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

.

I hope you never find out how much you can’t do when pain and broken bones bog you down and connect you with your bed, but it happened to me. Extreme pain is like a straight jacket tightened around your past life. No reading, no watching TV, no visiting with friends, no cooking, no cleaning, no tending to the garden, no family dinners or events, no driving to meetings and luncheons.

Mr. Rough and Tuff came to visit to make sure I was alive. He said, “How could you do nothing all day? I just don’t get it. You were always so vivacious and active.” Those words got me thinking about how we see ourselves and how others see us. There is more than what meets the eye. There is the deeper self, so I took this opportunity to spend the next couple of days to come up with some things my friends don’t know about the inner me in hopes that you will think about what your friends don’t know about you.

Here they are:

I learned to cuss like a drunken sailor in my early teens. I’ve never forgotten a word and I return to this form of expression internally as occasions that need a depth in discussions arise. Once in a while you will hear me vocalize my internal expressions.

I dearly love the deep twang of classic country music, second only to the cooing of a baby. I hear a sending out into the atmosphere, deep mesmerizing sounds to calm my daily build up of fears and naughty wayward notions. The country sound puts a deep warming spell upon me at each and every listen. Listen and learn to savor.

I bleach my fingernails: How often? When I think about it, I put a capful of bleach into motion. I soak all nails and then rinse the bleach off to see sparkling white nails free of bacteria and anything else I might have put my hands and nails into. Treat yourself to a nice germ free day, and perhaps enjoy sharing the news.

Two mothers raised me. When I was nine, my parents hired a housekeeper who stayed with our family for 30 years. Each taught me something uniquely different, using their own style. Mother #1 used a double dose of words to share her messages, and mother #2 shared her messages by modeling behaviors and outcomes. Therefore, producing the product that I am today, a very fortunate woman.

I have a Hippy heart. I was drawn into the Hippy subculture when I was married with children. So, you see, I was really to old to follow the scene. I tie-died shirts, grew my hair long, and adopted the principles of love and sharing, but I had to restrain myself from running off into the sunset searching the depths of life for meaning.

I was baptized in the fourth grade. On this particular day, the teacher was very angry with me for talking when she was talking. She dug her nails into my shoulder and sat me outside the door. I decided to explore the neighborhood. I walked down the street from the school and began to run to enjoy the day. I fell in front of the church, skinning my knee, and began to cry. A nice lady from the church in a bright yellow suit came out to help me. She invited me in to clean and dress my wound. Once I was bandaged, she lifted my chin and said, “Do you want to go to heaven, little girl?” I replied, “Yes I do, yes I do!” She called to the others and they came with dishes, statues, and water. They dribbled water on my hair and neck. I thought the church had a leak in their roof from rain, but it was a bright sunny day. As soon as I could, I ran back to the school and sat down where the teacher put me. Later in my life, I realized I had the good fortune to be baptized.

I did something bad and felt good about it. Every spring the neighbors would gather together in the side lot to practice our baseball skills. For years everyone aimed for the neighbors window. Who ever broke the window first, would be the hero of our gang. No one ever succeeded, until I got up to bat and accidently, on purpose, broke that window. I felt very accomplished even after the neighbor came out and everyone told on me. I spent the rest of the summer proudly working to pay off that window.

I have a Personal Plucker, therefore I’ve covered the horror of old age facial hair that comes long after you cannot see them. This PP deal I made with my much younger loving friend gives me peace. Having a PP, I now have one less aging horror to worry over.

Your turn: Please share with us your inner self.