Girls with hammers with flowers on them? I thought I would write about this but I am now consumed with doubt. Although I may need to get back to the fact I think my hammer needs to be dressed up a bit more.
What is my perfect scenario? No idea. I know what is not. How can you imagine something you have never had? Or did I think I did once? Does anyone even really have a perfect scenario? We make plans and have visions and then life happens. Why bother? Right? Or do we make perfect out of less than ideal scenarios to get us through less than ideal scenarios. Pretend perfect. Isn’t that half of what we see online or the front of a beautiful house? Is it perfect? That perfect house? What is perfect? Ed Sheeran knows. He wrote an entire song about someone who is perfect? What about tomorrow Ed? Is she always even when she’s not? Also i think one direction wrote one too. Maybe lots of people know more about perfect than me. Here is googles idea:
Perfect-
1. having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.
As good as it is possible to be. Good enough? Not enough? In what scenario is this used? Perfect practice makes perfect piano playing. No mistakes allowed. Not just as good as you can possibly be but perfect. Free from faults. Played correct. Sat correct. perfect.
No dirty baseboards. No sticky kids, no talking, no cuddling, no nothing. Just perfect perfection scenarios so everyone sees perfect.
What if he is saying the same things to her he is to me? Doing the same things? Wasn’t I here once? At this place where I was the other? Not the only. How do you become an only without first being another? I will bail. No doubt. I expect to be hurt and should just get it out of the way now. I don’t want explanations and stories. I’ve heard them all. I also own know right to even know more. We are not a couple. We were nothing more than a moment in time we needed to get through? Right? Then I was asked what I thought we were. And I said what I hoped it could be or saw. It was the wrong answer but I answered based on what I want. Not what he wants.
I want more. I want to be an only woman. Not an only person but that one that is thought of when something good happens to them. Or bad. The one turned to not turned away from. The one I know won’t fuck up when I’m dying. The one who knows I don’t need flowers on my grave because there won’t be one. The one who knows the inside me not just the outside. The one who drilled through that to see inside is not perfect and never will be. It’s as good as it possibly can be given the scenarios I have been in. Like I hope Ed wrote about. Perfect for him. Someone else’s perfect scenario.
When we closed on our first home I was the second person told. By my husband who told someone more important to him first. It’s an odd feeling. Then I kept on hoping I could be enough or less or more? I kept waiting for my turn. Also so silly. Hindsight is hard to swallow. Why did I stay so long? Simple answer. What choice did I have given that I was taken of all my choices. I had none. Then I had had enough. Then too much then enough again. Then I had no choice which was no different than what I didn’t have anyway so why not chose a better life not just life. A better one.
I won’t understand this. Not even a little bit. I am lucky I have a few people who look out for me now. Friends they call them. But I wanted him to be one. Now I won’t know how to be one and also not the only one I thought I was. Why doesn’t it bother her too? Maybe they wait for me to be bothered then it solves itself? That’s how it went once. I left making it easier for him to continue his plan of me plus more. I feel forever ruined by the fact half my life was spent as a second to someone else then the other half I was a kid slash teenager. Now I feel like I have missed half my life.
I said I believed him when he said I was beautiful but that doesn’t mean I want to be with you when someone says this. Lots of people are beautiful. I think some are too but I don’t want to be with them. Lots of people are wonderful and amazing. It means very little said from another. I believe me but no one else.
A perfect scenario. As long as I can use hindsight, shame, regret and disappointment to fuel this desire. A perfect scenario for me is that from the beginning my sister was never raped. I never saw it. I never had to fear men. I then never fell for someone who emotionally and physically abused me half my life in a sneaky manner I never saw coming and still don’t know if I could and worry it will happen again. My gut feelings are off the compass messed up from my dad dying. I can’t have a proper gut feeling because my gut feels everything right now.
A perfect scenario is of course just that. A perfect scenario. A perfect outline of a sequence of events. I can’t lay one out any more than a movie filmmaker might be able to. It will never do as its laid out. Ad lib? Right. We ad lib. Make good enough. Deal. Cope. Move forward. A perfect scenario is a partner who is just that. Someone to count on. Rely on. To play catch with, fish with, kiss and hold hands, cry, touch, help them through things, they do back…I can’t even describe one. My plot thickens as my sequence of events has put me in a film even I can’t write a scene for.
I am overthinking something so simple. That nothing is about me. I could wear more makeup but why, dress more sexy, why. Behave more flirty, also why, behave more anything. By weird dressed up tools that don’t fix things but why. But I behave the way I behave based on the scenarios That played out for me that I never planned as a perfect scenario for me.
Emotional abuse is that. It is abuse. No bruises. No marks to see. No wounds to heal with surgery. It scars in places no one sees and no one wants to. It means digging deeper. Drilling through layers of scenes no one should ever be cast in. It means a perfect scenario once was to get out alive. Stay alive. To make sure everyone was quiet when they needed to be. Fed and asleep. Everything was in order. Nothing was broken. No one was angry; sad, happy or showed any emotion other than fear. Lucky for me I was already packed full of it. It just became the scene we lived in. Perfect. Sometimes it was. Because everything had to be or the chaos was a calm storm waiting to be a storm. That little quiet before it comes. Sometimes it stayed quiet. Forever. Too quiet. His scenario was silence. He knew it made me stew when nothing was said. Forcing me to say it all. Making me feel like I was the crazy one. A perfect scenario for him? That I was really the crazy one.
Was it alway bad? No. Sometimes it was good. When it’s good it is. Then you stay believing this is good. Even though it’s good because it was just bad.
I shouldn’t make assumptions. We make them when we lack accurate information and we make them when we fear asking for it. Both is where I am at right now. But. I’m comfortable here. Comfortable in what I laid out once as a perfect scenario. On my own. Why not? I have great tools that can fix things the way I know how to. None of these tools wear flowers.
I am too wonderful to be alone? That’s what I was told. I believe it. But hearing it feels to uncomfortable to be true. Does it mean they think they should be with me for this reason or just that someone should? That they are saying? Don’t worry, your time will come. Will it? Time keeps running out?
Was he asking me if I saw us as a scenario and I said yes only to find he was hoping I would say no? No, so he could not be just a someone for one someone. That’s ok. People do it. I was a someone else twice and didn’t know it, then did and didn’t care as long as someone wanted me. That’s what I did once. To see what was wrong with me I allowed myself this. Turns out that’s what was wrong with me. I was looking for others to tell me who I was not me telling me. I was looking to be someone’s again. Looking for something. Anything but me.
I know I miss my dad. I found some good solid closure on this. I know it will still sneak up but I am less unresolved on my spiritual end of things. I’m a little at peace with it. It was hard and it maybe didn’t have to be but grief is love with no where to go. And as much as I loved him I now have no where to send that love. It’s stuck. Or it is falling right for someone. I suspect it is landing on someone else and that is way to scary to not be an only person. By this I mean an only lover not only person at all. Someone I can see having fun with: talking with. Somebody to say hey when I die this….someone to send the bugs and things to and the ideas and chaos I have. A someone. A perfect scenario is a someone again who is not just a someone but I am his. My perfect scenario is for once I am someone’s someone too. Someone’s perfect for them scenario. I want to be someone else’s perfect scenario. Maybe not Ed’s idea but someone’s.
Back to the hammer thing. I was just raised to have tools that have a purpose. Don’t own a cute hammer or tools if they can’t fix things. I worried maybe this was a thing. I’m too self reliant and too self sufficient. I need no one. I want someone. I was raised this way. I have not enough girl tools. Just things men use and want to be the ones to use. But I could always make my hammer a little more fancy. I’m not sure why I would. Estwing didn’t make hammers to be cute. But they should and could and maybe they do I just don’t need a cute hammer. Do I need pink tools? Why do they make pink camo? That doesn’t make sense. You can’t camouflage in the woods while wearing pink? To be noted I don’t hunt I just have camouflage opinions for no good reason. I can hunt if I have to but thats a whole other story…
I can hammer with pretty hammers just not hammer well, as long as it’s not like a tiny little cute one with flowers designed to maybe tap in a thumb tack because a non dressed up regular hammer smashes them and the wall behind them. Maybe to chip ice out in a freezer that is frozen? I broke a freezer trying to use a grown up hammer to do this. I should have looked in my kids toys for a little kid hammer? Or use a rock. A rock makes a great hammer.
I am not girly like that. A carpenters daughter just has good tools. I don’t know all their names, uses and I hammer like a girl, really soft or I hammer like a jack hammer. I just want a good hammer to hammer bad. I am not one to be asked to hammer in trim nails or someone to put in thumb tacks. I am really not someone to ask to hammer anything at all just someone to ask if they have a hammer then I will present a good one. Then I will guard it with my life like it is an extension of my hand even though I am not the person to ask to use it.
I am one to ask when you want to split a rock wide open, destroy a wall coming down, or maybe just smash a pumpkin with it. Why? Because it’s a great hammer and can? A little cute hammer puts a hole in a pumpkin and I want to smash this pumpkin after Halloween.
I can pull nails from boards like a machine and I can hammer super cute like a little kid learning to hammer or like a girl. But I can’t dress my hammer up so guys think I hammer cute. It’s just a hammer.
A perfect scenario is someone who will get this right here and up there. I was less than perfect for someone once. Not their idea of perfect. Like Ed says. Which is a super sweet perfect song by the way. Then I stayed for so long expecting to be. That’s how much I love. Too much or not at all. Like I hammer. Super soft or just too much. Perfect scenario I am somewhere in between maybe?
I don’t even know anymore I confused myself so much up there. As I do. I worked myself into a story of just a single topic and obsessed and googled it looking for an answer to be told right on the internet of what a perfect scenario is. I googled perfect scenario and girl hammers.
Aspenleaf 