Sigh.
Some teacher saw some spark in me and told my parents that I should get tested. It turns out that I am pretty bright and ever since I was in the third grade I have been told that I am special. That I am bright. Full of potential and oh so talented. Which don’t get me wrong is great, I mean it’s better than being told I am a dumb bunny and should never aspire to be more than some pimps bottom bitch. I’m just saying that it was a lot of pressure and any one who knows me as an adult knows that I don’t handle pressure well.
As a kid I used to think about killing myself a lot. I am sure some of it was brought on in part by all of those ABC After School Specials but some of it was just me being a dark kid. I ran away from home a few times, once for a long as a few days. After the hitchhikers I picked up outside of Huntsville, told me to take my candy ass home I drove to the end of my hole in the highway hometown, took a bunch a sleeping pills and waited to die. I didn’t. So I used the last of my cash for a Whataburger and went home. Knowing that I wasn’t going to be said home anytime soon…I drove slow. Real slow.
Want to know the real reason why I never went through with killing myself (besides my very low threshold of pain and stupidity)? A radio interview with I think Dolly Parton. I remember being fairly young, on punishment, in my room and listening to am radio. I can’t remember the show or how I even came across it but I remember Dolly Parton saying something to the effect that she once thought of killing herself but didn’t because she knew that she was meant for something big and if she killed herself she would never get to know what it was. In my mind if that reason was good enough for Dolly, it was good enough for me.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I am struggling.
I was chatting with a friend about my job when I worked for the O&G company and she asked, “But Tex, don’t you want more?” Uh, no. At the time I had a rocking good job that matched my 401 dollar for dollar. I had health insurance. A boyfriend that loved me. Friends and family that adored me and a swinging social life. I never defined myself by my job and honestly I was happy. Really, who could ask for anything more?
More.
I have this nagging feeling that I am supposed to be doing more. It has become one of the louder voices in my head. “Tex, you don’t need medication you just need to get up off your duff and do something.” Fuck that. I want the meds. Maybe it will shut one particular voice up.
“Jesus, Tex are you kidding me?! Are you really going to squander your just shy of Mensa, not quite beautiful but cute on a good day mind on bullshit?” Uh, excuse me. Finding new and exciting ways to hide the big zit on my forehead without the use of bangs is not bullshit, thankyouverymuch. Memo to Self: If you are not Carmello, leave the sweatband at home.
“Tex, all bullshit aside. You survived a near fatal auto accident, where they had to cut you out of the car. You survived two golf ball sized blood clots in your lungs. Most people are dead before they hit the floor and you were up, alert and joking with the EMT’s who brought you in within 48 hours! That shit doesn’t just happen. You are here for a reason and to quote your Happy Head Person, ‘You are too smart, and too talented not to be living up to your divine potential.’ Heifer, you are not getting any younger get it together!” Shut up shut up shut up! I don’t hear you. I don’t hear you. La la la la la la la.
Underachiever.
So I realized the other day while boo hooing in my shower that the reason I am chock full of angst is not because I am broke, fat and have unruly hair. The reason I am chock full of angst is because I am a classic underachiever who has no idea what the hell it is I am supposed to achieve. The yearbook answer is, “Tex you can do whatever you want to and put your mind to do!” But what if I don’t know? What if I am tired of playing 20 Questions with the Universe? Would it be so bad if my life purpose was not bigger than a breadbox? Would my life be considered a waste if all I ever did was keep a roof over my head, sushi in my belly and obscure french jazz singers in my iTunes? Me thinks not.
Dark and twisty can be a thing of my past if I just stop chasing this so called potential (that I don’t know what the hell to do with anyway) and just take a deep breath and be.
In the comments: Where do you go on the web to lighten your mood? Send me someplace fun.
