11:49
2017 SHAT ON ME.
11:49A big ol', year long, sloppy poop. hey folks, hope Santa committed the criminal act of breaking and e...
A big ol', year long, sloppy poop.
hey folks,
hope Santa committed the criminal act of breaking and entry to provide you with all your materialistic wants and needs... because you deserve it. You, yes you, deserve all the altruism that that morbidly obese, slightly balding, OAP can muster :)
It's that time of the year again. Sparkling lights meandering around in the sky. Sea of black coats and red cheeks swimming in anarchic synchrony. Watery eyes shivering in anticipation of the holiday season. The vibrant transformation of your local town centre beckons the end of a worn out year- and like a notification to upgrade ios, guides us into a [ not so different and initially slightly questionable looking ] redesign.
BUT FIRST LET'S LOOK BACK AT
HOW I GOT SHAT ON THIS YEAR SHALL WE:
1. A BIRD SHAT ON ME
This year I got shat on quite literally, by an asshole bird.
2. BREAK UP
2. BREAK UP
Time escaped me before I had a time to spill the tea on my break up. Before I knew it, more than a year had sauntered past me whilst unknowingly dragging me by the heels. Heels, which I previously would have wanted to use to bash my head in, now utilised to parade my newfound saucy singledom. I think a break up post whilst I was trudging through the trenches of recovery would’ve probably held more emotional potency – which if you know me, you know I proper love a bit of emotional potency. As well as that it would have served as more of a helpful hand to sooth those hands searching for their own pair of head bashing stilettos. But alas, I didn’t. Instead I grew on myself outside the limelight of social media. I still intend on writing this alleged break up post- which I will probably schedule for the day that every singletons regards, with a sarcastic scorn, as their favourite holiday.
But I must say January last year, I was still flamboyantly flaunting the shit that was shat on my head by the breakup. Oh boy, I was loud and proud. “Hey fellas !! mama’s looking for an emotional crutch, yeah baby give it to me !!” I would be seen sashaying through the street, regularly spouting that though puddles of tears. And it wasn’t only exclusively for fellas, oh no no please don’t be mistaken, it was for ladies, bus drivers, workers at my local Sainsbury’s, dogs, old ladies, a plethora of inanimate objects- if you had mass, I would’ve obnoxiously snuck in the phrase “funny that, my ex used to *insert x, y z * “. Such fun. I laugh at that period now, because It was just so melodramatic and ridiculously intense for me.
At one point I broke down in front of, for lack of a better word, a bloody heartless Starbucks employee. I was instructed by my sister to fetch her a tea from Starbucks. On the walk there, my thoughts were hard at work baking up bittersweet memories of the lost love, obviously, my thoughts made sure to sprinkle more sugar to over-sweeten the slightly counterfeit memories. By the time I arrived in front of - let's call her heartless Stacy;
*pinnng*
my freshly baked tear jerker pie was done.
She asked me what I'd like, and I responded with what seemed like a 5-minute barrage of sniffles and "um.. sorry..um one second...sorry". All the while, her cold eyes bore and tore into the inner crevasses of my broken jagged heart and probably found sadistic respite in the destruction. Safe to say she rubbed me the wrong way.
Point is, earlier on last year I was mess personified. I couldn’t handle myself, I didn’t even know who that stranger was. The pain was intense and for the most part, I felt like a floating hollower version of a person.
3. ANXIETY
I guess a tangential effect of the break up was a spike in anxiety. Although It’s not something that I’ve been free from for a while, even before the split. But it definitely got worse, to the point I didn’t leave my house because my heart was beating too fast.
I’ve talked about this on the blog previously & here
Those two things combined really made me struggle early on in 2017.
But there’s a reason this section is quite short.
To be truthful, the title isn’t entirely… truthful.
The shit that was shat on my head, became manure. It engendered a fertile ground for me to grow. Which lead to the latter half of 2017 to be one of THE most fruitful periods of my entire life.
[yes I am using a poo analogy. ] I have never felt so artistically, socially and emotionally prosperous.
The next post will delve into the ways that I feel like I’ve flourished this year. Subsequently, the last post for new years will go into how I want to keep using the future shit that will be shat on my head to fertilise my growth in the coming year.
What ways have you been shat on this year?
And more importantly, are you using that shit to grow?
much love, many kindness,
until next time,
tea x x