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There’s Definitely [Not] Something Wrong with Me.

My (wrinkly) shirt purchased from Media Play many centuries ago.

I bought this shirt years ago. I bought it at Media Play. They went out of business in 2006.

 

I saw this T-shirt in one of those clear plastic squares up on the wall. I searched and searched the rack below, but they did not have anymore. The last one was pressed into that display box. So, I did something very uncharacteristic of me. I actually went and ASKED AN ASSOCIATE to get it out so that I could buy it. It was a size way too big when I was actually beginning to eliminate some of my too large 80s shirts from my wardrobe. But I didn’t care. I HAD TO HAVE THAT SHIRT.

It may have been the first shirt I had that I didn’t want my mom to see me wear. (There are many more now. Not slutty, just advertising my writing or tattoos or the church I sometimes hang out at, all things she would have issue with.) I figured she would try to point out that there wasn’t something wrong with me. Which, how would she know, because she never has known the real me.

I wore it quite a bit over the years. More recently, I relegated it to being a sleep shirt mostly because it was such a large size that it was hard to layer under a long-sleeved shirt and a hoodie in the winter months. I count winter as September through May. (Yes, three layers, minimum. I will need to retire somewhere warmer and sunnier than Michigan.)

I intended to write a blog post about this shirt for a long time. The date of June 9, 2014 is on this photo in my computer. Although, for all I know, that could just be the last time I replaced my hard drive. I initially intended to write about how made-for-me it was, how true the statement was.

But something has happened to me recently. I don’t always think the same way I used to. And, well, I can’t write that post anymore.

Last year, about this time, a saying popped up in my head:

EMBRACE YOUR WEIRDNESS

And while I contemplated getting that tattooed on my wrist for a short time, I don’t think it is entirely accurate either.

Because while others think I’m weird, weirdness IS my normal.

Maybe it is everyone else (those who judge me) who have something wrong with them.

So now, I have moved on to:

Don't write me nasty comments. This is just a pen & ink illustration, NOT an actual tattoo.

Don’t write me nasty comments. This is just a pen & ink illustration, NOT an actual tattoo.

The symbols of a heart and an arrow, which to me represent “Love Yourself.” You may have even seen me use such a picture with the saying on a previous edition of my blog or a tweet. This is the latest tattoo I am contemplating, this time for the inside of my forearm. I would love it to be a daily reminder to do just that. But, alas, life is a very mental game and outside stimuli are very bad at reminding me of who I need to strive to be.

Being positive remains a daily battle.

I just have to remind myself that if I lose today, maybe I can still win tomorrow.

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
Be Careful What You Wish ForAVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It THE CONTINUING ROMANCE!
The Wind Could Blow a BugWHERE IT ALL BEGAN!

Is It Possible to be a Shy Extrovert?

EXTROVERT-Introvert

My asbestos friend always calls herself an introvert. She claims she prefers to be tucked safely away inside her house toiling away on her next book, only surrounded by other people she feels very safe with.

introversion: the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one’s own mental life. …Reserved and solitary behavior.

–Wikipedia.com

I think she is crazy. If that is the case, she has everyone fooled. She is the most outgoing introvert I know. Her kid is enrolled in a million and one activities, which she must transport her to, and often help out. My asbestos friend also volunteers all the time—and for stuff I would never dream of! She will invent a support group at her church and offer to lead it. She will sign up to man a table at the local craft show to help raise money for a cause, not batting an eye at conversing with total strangers strolling by.

EXTROVERT-Introvert care

When I was a kid, it seemed like my mom only left the house three times a week, to go to the laundromat and the grocery store. I was told from an early age that I wasn’t allowed to join anything where she would have to participate, such as Girl Scouts. I was sorta shocked when she went with me to College Info Weekend, where they had a program for several hours for the parents, but she did.

If my asbestos friend is an introvert, then my mother is a hermit. #TrueStory

EXTROVERT-Introvert joke

So then what am I?

To people I don’t know, I am quiet. If I don’t know you, I am not going to take the chance of talking to you and having you disagree with me or, heaven forbid, attack my unique beliefs. I was always labeled “shy” as a child. Uhhhhh. *cringe* I am not one who generally signs up for things. I sit at home watching television and taking care of my family. I only venture out of my warm/drafty house when something catches my eyes/ears and compels me to take a chance at an adventure that could prove to be a disaster.

Yet, I kind of like to talk to people. I have held several cashier jobs, where I checked out people’s purchases. I had to greet them when they came into the store and provide assistance. These have actually been some of the jobs I have counted as my most enjoyable.

Sure, I can sit quiet and work independently behind a desk inputting data. But if I have to do it full-time, I tend to become rather miserable mighty quickly.

EXTROVERT-extrovert care

Is it possible to be an introvert who craves fame?

I have been slowly collecting my 15 minutes of fame a few seconds at a time. When I was a kid, I had my name announced on a Canadian music video show (Miss you Video Hits!). I have always found unusual opportunities to get myself on the radio; TV as well, but those opportunities are rarer. I spill forth embarrassing events of my life into my blog to provide humor to the universe. I publish books. You might not realize this, but for every copy that heads out into the world a little piece of my heart (and my sanity) heads out with it.

It is stressful and scary and crazy to put myself out there like that. Why would I do that?

So what am I? You tell me…

I enjoy the sense of helping people. But I have to put on a front to do it. I have to pretend to be braver than I actually am. I get hot and sweat profusely. I literally have to wear a different brand of higher powered deodorant to work such a job.

I believe I am an extrovert with generalized anxiety disorder.

 

extroversion: the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with obtaining gratification from what is outside the self. …Tends to be…outgoing, talkative, energetic behavior

–Wikipedia.com

 

generalized anxiety disorder: an anxiety disorder characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry, that is, apprehensive expectation about events or activities. This excessive worry often interferes with daily functioning, as individuals with GAD typically anticipate disaster, and are overly concerned about everyday matters such as health issues, money, death, family problems, friendship problems, interpersonal relationship problems, or work difficulties.

–Wikipedia.com

This is all simply self-diagnosis, of course.

But it makes sense to me. I spent a lot of time as a kid sitting home whining about how bored I was all the time. I felt like the world was going by without me, that other people were having awesome adventures that I was missing out on. I don’t believe that an introvert would care about missing the fun others are experiencing.

And I care too much about what else is going on in the world. I worry about it all so much that then I tend to not want to leave the house for fear of sliding on a snowy road or showing up to an event that is canceled or worse, too many other people have already showed up and now there is a crowd and a line.

Is there such a thing as a “shy” extrovert? I provide the evidence above as proof of my theory that I am this creature in the flesh.

And what would happen if a lightning bolt zapped my brain and removed my anxiety? Would I be unstoppable? Would I suddenly start singing on Broadway?

(I can’t sing, so the answer would be “no.”)

EXTROVERT-just me

Want to accumulate some good karma and help me get the word out about my new release? Then join my Thunderclap.

Don’t know what that is? You just sign up to post the message I created to all your social media websites that you want to participate with. It is easy and only takes a minute. It is a great way for me to spread my message from a few hundred people to a few hundred THOUSAND people!

The power of social media is awesome. Click here to help a sister out!

Casey Kasem (1932-2014)

Posted on

CASEY KASEM-shaggy meme

What I Learned This Week – 2/9/14

This week I learned that my family and I have very different personalities.

We spent a little family time at Build-A-Bear (or cat) Workshop this week. All the animals we picked out are very different. But I think the ones we picked out represent us all very well. It would be fun to psychoanalyze us by our choices. See the picture below…

Our Build-A-Bear creations (l to r): Rainbow (my son's), Hootchie Mama Hello Kitty (mine), Lloyd (my husband's)

Our Build-A-Bear creations (l to r): Rainbow (my son’s), Hootchie Mama Hello Kitty (mine), Lloyd (my husband’s)

FYI–If I get 20 different people to comment on this post, you will all be rewarded with a video of Hootchie Mama Hello Kitty twerking!!!

Quite the incentive, huh? Send over your friends and family! All are welcome here! (Except Negative Nellies! That is why my mom has no idea about my blog. Shhhhh!)

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