I am currently in the throes of everything that makes #gladitude necessary.
The ability to take a moment or three, stop…notice the small things that you may otherwise missed in the chaos of your made-for-tv-movie kind’o’life.
A week ago I sent off my application for a legal name change. Why?
Because I’m new and improved. Well, that’s kind of a ridiculous statement, really. Something is either new OR improved, but I can sure as shit assure you that, in this case, I am most assuredly both.
I’ve spent the last 10 years on a journey of self-evolution. Deep in the throes of the cobwebs of my past, clearing out the things that I don’t like about myself. Things I need to improve upon about myself. Things I love about myself. And, while the latter is often the hardest to visualize for ourselves, I’ve managed.
It’s been a really, really hard path to walk, because I’ve been paving it out of the rough.
I no longer fit within the confines of the memories and circumstances that have brought me to Today. It doesn’t mean I wish to forget. Ever. I never, ever wish to forget. I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
Thing is, it has had a rather…bizarre and uncomfortable and bring-me-to-tears effect: Identity crisis.
Literally. What the h-e-double hockey sticks?!?!
After my husband left, I’d gone and done All the Things: went to Service Ontario and re-assumed my maiden name on my licence and health card. Changed my Facebook, Twitter, Instagram……..you get the point.
BUT. That’s not going to be my name. I’m going to legally, and finally, be known as ”Brynn”…Brynja…it’s old Icelandic for ”Armour”…that which I carry to protect myself and my children and my worth and my honour…and that which I need to drop because I am not my trauma.
I am in possession of no birth certificate. It’s gone off to bureaucratic purgatory.
It’s bizarre. I’m in a limbo of sorts and I don’t like it. At all. So, coupled with the Everything on my already overflowing plate…I’m moody and emo’n’shit.
So. #gladitude. Those seemingly small things that bring a happiness to ”Me.” that would otherwise have gone unnoticed.
Samples. Not THOSE kinds of sample, holy shit. Free samples. Product samples. The little packages of Joy when you’re taxed on your budget and they just seem to pop out of the cupboards. I found a laundry pod and those fresh-able droplet thingies. That’s totally a word, because I’m not finished my first cuppa joe.
“Vortex of lemon scented liquid hate.” Sweet mother of all things, sometimes the threads in my Facebook newsfeed bring me laughs at the most stellar of moments. My friends are just as bat-shit crazy as ”Me.” Maybe that’s why I appreciate their posts and spend so much time (lil’ too much, on occasion!) on the Crack of Face in order to keep up. I needed to use this brilliantly relate-able statement in a blog post. So, I am. Because, today is cleaning day. I loathe it when my hands can’t even hold a toothbrush. I can sure as shit assure you that when I’m in the throes of deep-knee pain from scrubbing: 1. It’s going to be orange-scented and 2. I’m going to be chuckling. A lot.
Rescue. All of it. My dog, my cats, especially my bat-shit crazy little black typhoon of mischief, Ender. I am so thankful. I realized in a moment the other day how fortunate that I have had, although not always a stellar process, the most amazing opportunities to give an animal a home and the love not only they deserve, but that I need to give.
I haz the lonliez. True story. Wrapping myself in a dog or a cat, listening to them purr or snore or yip in their sleep and knowing I protect them is…well…a well-placed ”full circle” right back to ”Brynja.”
My name day will come.
Until then, there is Laura Secord mint hot chocolate for my mocha-choco-vodka-valium-latte to go.
True story. 😉