Soldier On

She woke up this morning with a grim look on her face, not because she was dreading the day but rather because she just couldn’t trust the day to be good. What was it that made some days better than others? Was it the weather, people who were not so temperamental? Some days seem to flow gently and easily carrying us through with little effort. Others are like getting caught out in a storm with flip-flops and no umbrella. A torrential downpour icy, cold, and relentless in its assault. One does wonder how as human beings we manage to cling to hope however slim and carry on like a seasoned soldier letting nothing stand in our way. We are resilient if nothing else.

One of my parent’s favorite sayings, when I would crash and burn, was “bootstraps”. Shortened from ” pick yourself up by your bootstraps”. Sometimes I just wanted to scream and light a match to imaginary boots. Maybe the heat from the flames would spark my inner fire because those invisible soldier shoes sure were not doing it for me. You can yell all day into someone’s ear to get up and just do it but you are really just driving them further into the ground. Always the independent type people assume that you will figure it out but what happens when you can’t when every solution gives way to another formula and equation? Things aren’t always so simple, why do we treat each other as if they are.

Just as one cannot control the person their heart loves, one cannot control another’s perception. Walk a mile in their shoes, a wonderful sentiment but a very flawed one. Everyone’s life experience molds them and how they process those experiences. It’s why you can take two kids from the same environment and one will continue a family cycle while the other will break them all. We are so uniquely and individually built we would never know what it was like for someone else. I suppose that’s why society standards can be so flawed we have made a measure of what is acceptable in an attempt to regulate millions of personalities by a slim scale and standard. Maybe that’s what is wrong with people why so many are discontent, they do not feel free to be as they are, loud, laughing at the urge. If only we could be who we are.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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