Tag Archives: self-esteem

Communications

1 Jun

I need to write,

To wring out my day’s thoughts and feelings.

I wish I could communicate,

With people rather than a page.

 

I wish I could communicate.

Arguing politics or religion,

Debating mayo versus Miracle Whip,

Giving my honest opinions on the assets and faults of my favorite football team.

 

I wish I could get people to laugh and feel humor in return.

To tell someone a joke and feel proud when they laugh that I told it right.

To get a giggle and smile from someone having an otherwise bad day.

And to belly laugh in front of others without worry that the joke was at my expense.

 

But I don’t communicate because I am a chronic mis-reader of people.

I keep my opinions to me for fear of judgement from others.

Better to sit here with my non-judgmental paper and pen.

Better to keep things to myself, to just nod and smile.

Better to do that than to have it confirmed that no one cares at all.

 

I want to converse and communicate and be heard.

To not feel alone in a room full of people.

Memories of Shirley Temple…

23 Jan

Tonight I was reminded of a great memory while watching T.V.. My Grandma Kennedy passed away 2 years ago but the thing I remembered was from a long time ago when I was a little girl. My Grandma and Grandpa Kennedy had 10 kids and they used to have a huge house big enough to hold them all. When I was a little kid this big house was like an amusement park for me. I was the first grandkid too, so my Grandma tried to spoil me whenever she could. I used to get to spend weekends with them all by myself and now I realize how special those moments were. My Grandparents used to have dinner parties and afterwards they made all their friends drinks. Now you have to realize that we are Irish Catholic which might as well be a symptom of alcoholism in my mind. My Grandma could not have made a froo-froo fruity drink if her life depended on it. So I would watch as she made real drinks for every single adult in the house after eating a huge dinner which she also prepared. And she would look down at me, because I was only knee height at the time, and ask what I was hanging around for. I would say that I was waiting for my drink. I mean everyone else had one and I thought that should include me. So my Grandma would ask if I wanted a Shirley Temple. And I would squeal to the affirmative. I loved and still love today Shirley Temple. And I assumed that a drink named after her had to be a drink she drank all the time. And my Grandma put no less work into my drink that she did the others. She would take a martini shaker and pour in 2 shots of 7-UP and 2 shots of Sprite. She would throw in some ice cubes and shut the shaker. She would shake up my Shirley Temple and pour it into a short old-fashioned drink glass. And then she would take 2 maraschino cherries from the jar and drop them into my drink. Last but not least she would put in a red drink stirring straw and put it on a fancy napkin. She would carry it into me at the table in front of everyone. It was one of the few times in my life that I remember a whole room of people looking at me without my face turning bright red. Maybe I was too young to feel embarrassed. Maybe my Grandma just made me feel special and not guilty that she was treating me special too. There are more days in my life now that I barely remember feeling special. I am glad I have memories of my Grandma to remind me of what special feels like. I miss her so much. Maybe I will go make myself a Shirley Temple and remember her some more.

Where did she go?

6 Apr

This is a picture of me when I was 8 or 9 and I think it is one of my favorite pictures of myself. You have to look past the horrible perm because it was the 80’s and no one explained to me that you should never get a perm when you have naturally curly hair. My mom was never a girlie girl so she had no idea about perms or anything else. And you have to look past the mushroom head hair cut too. You have to look past the acid wash, tight rolled jeans. You have to look past the matchy-matchy shirt and socks and fanny pack.  I mean where do you even find a fanny pack to match your outfit, even back in the 80’s? Look deeper at the little girl with the expression of absolute joy. Even under all those clichés that little girl felt beautiful. She felt free to be herself. She wore bright-colored clothes because she felt bright and colorful inside. Peer pressure and judgement were things she was only beginning to notice in grade school. She wasn’t afraid to flash her smile even though she was missing teeth. And 20 some years later I wonder where that little girl went? I was picked on and peer pressured in school because I was different. I had bullies. And I chose to tone down my creative side and try to fit in. And I was miserable. It wasn’t until college that I started to find my own style again. To this day I love to wear bright colors but I try to do it more fashionably. But that smile and that joy and that confidence you see in the picture have not been so easy to find again. I hope that someday I can flash a smile like that again. I hope that someday I can find that joy inside and feel beautiful because of it.

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