Caterwauling

One of my boys is Going Through It.

I could use all caps and it still wouldn’t be enough. I mean, THROUGH IT.

He really wants to take the high road, and I know he will.

So from a very good place, he put up an Instagram video.

I was in the middle of arguing with Howler, so I figured at least scroll Insta to relieve the tension headache that was building.

So I saw this video shortly after it was posted.

I texted, “Um, Homie? Take that down.”

He said you have a bad feeling, Homie?

I said well, my opinion and $5.25 will get you a vanilla latte. A small one.

But, I spend time on the low road. My profile says I am a low-road Democrat FFS.

So I say this as “the big sister you never wanted,” but I too cannot control my mouth. And I never seem to stop being surprised when consequences walk in.

Please enjoy my gift of hindsight and protect yourself before unintended consequences find you.

He took it down.

I told him I know his heart is in the right place. But I know the low road types. And the only time they aim high is when they have a chance to knock down someone on top.

I also reminded him he’s literally got 13 miles left in a 13.1 mile marathon. You have bigger trials ahead. Save your energy for the higher-stakes ones.

I appreciated that he listened to me and found my advice valuable. I hope it turns out to be correct.

More people need to do that. Like Howler, for starters.

I blast No Shoes Radio or Coffeehouse from Mom’s room at all times.

I had wanted to wake up and start an entry with this Taylor Swift lyric:

“Been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night
But now I see daylight
I only see daylight.”

But I heard Sammy and thought, there’s my title.

I fell behind and I’ve got to run just to get back to where I was.

My wheels have been turning in wet cement.

I mean, they always were. Don’t anyone ever blame my mom. She should have sought more treatments and more doctors and more appointments.

She always said this job will throw you out like the last one. Don’t fuck this up on my accounht.

With the turning of the clock to 2025, and the grief of there being a year without her in it, something has changed within me.

“I’ve just had a vision
Almost like a prophecy
I know it’s sounds truly crazy
And true, the vision’s hazy
But I swear someday I’ll be
Flying so high (defying gravity).”

I wrote last about how all my new friends probably think I’m this fancy traveling Swiftie.

Well, there are also people (like my new boss who everyone is always scared of) who don’t remember me being a workaholic with big ideas and dreams.

He knows someone in total maintenance mode.

And again, don’t blame mom. We had a way here.

The owner would always call me to brainstorm about new projects. I had to be sharp, and I was. Because it was my chance to contribute ideas and raise objections.

But otherwise, my big crazy ideas were mine to sit on till the right time to mention them again.

Anyway, all Wicked-like, I finally finally remembered who I was.

The girl with big crazy dreams and ideas who never had an outlet for them.

I haven’t had any big crazy dreams or ideas for a long time.

But I finally realized yesterday, wait, I want those again.

I think the new boss would be receptive to them. Maybe if I had/shared them, my team wouldn’t be so nervous all the time.

Not even had/shared, but implemented them. Which is a whole cultural shift I haven’t embraced yet. Like … wait, I have to effect change after years of not?

The new boss had put me on the spot about coming up with big dreams and charting my own path.

As ever, he gave me no boundaries or expectations, but you know he has them and isn’t communicating them.

I get it now, like I finally get “You Said Something.”

The first thought I had is what if I catch up and then outgrow everything in six months, like I’ve done before?

Well. What if I do, indeed.

If I outgrow my clothes, I stuff myself into them until I shrink enough to fit back into them.

But what if it’s life where I should be buying a bigger size … and rocking it?