It keeps bringing up debate in me; To write or not to write. To write is a given actually. To drudge up, WHAT to write…those are the questions. Maybe I use all my shit from my story and put into other characters. Maybe I tell it from the other side, the side I’m on now, and NOT go back in to where the details make me puke. Because I read my words here, and about how I said here about not shutting up. I’m not going to shut up. I just need to tell a different story is all I think.
Everyone on the planet has a story. We all have shit we have walked through. The guy next to you in line with the bad teeth has probably been through some nasty shit and but he’s still here buying milk. I’m just saying the course of my convictions has changed. I used to look at my situation and see how I was wronged. (I was) I thought in re-telling it I could make it all better, but now its just about sitting with my decisions at my later age, sitting with the consequences of those actions and being thankful for the person I am now and maybe shedding some light on how I got here so other women who hate themselves and get into bad, stupid, dumb, (men) situations don’t have to any more either and can climb out.
I basically dug myself out from under being a victim. I spent the last 20 years being sad and wanting to die and I am now happy. I am learning joy and learning how to laugh and how to not give two flying monkey shits about most everything else. I am doing comedy, improv, theater, I have purple hair, my kids are halfway normal and thriving, and this happened:
A new person is here! A whole brand new human being! I always find that incredible. That we can make PEOPLE.
I don’t want my story to be a self help book either. Fuck those. It’s just a story.
Julia Roberts is not allowed to play me.
I want Frances McDormand or Marisa Tomei to play me.