How VERY Dare She.

Since the day I was born….well…wait, let’s start THAT again.
Since the day I became conscious of holding a place in the world and began my very human, life long search for happiness, fulfillment and success, such as any of those things are, I feel like I have been balancing on a tight rope.
The guidelines to this balancing act, ones I followed like a soldier, are dictated by the THEYS of this world…whoever THEY are…and is as follows:

Really like yourself, but…not TOO much.
Be confident, but not over confident.
Be outspoken, but only to a point.
Be pretty, but not intimidating.
Be slim, but eat your fill.
Be big, but not fat.
Be brave, but don’t risk everything.
BE loud, but don’t yell.
Fit in, but be singular.
Recognize your worth, but know you are ALWAYS replaceable.
Be special….but not TOO special…no one likes ANYONE who thinks they’re TOO special.

I mean, fuck.
What an exhausting thing to do, trying to figure out what the world wants you to be, to try and balance in the VERY middle place of all those guidelines, right?
And that’s just what I did for the first…many…many years of my life.
I know some people who came out into the world at large knowing who they are and owning their place, which was always a wonder to me, but THAT was NOT me.
I really had to…and still endeavour to…figure it the fuck out for myself.
With help from others…some professional, thank the goddess.
And figure it out, I am trying. Madly.

AND, as a result of the trying…y’all…I believe I am entering my SECOND formative years.
Yes, I am.
And I am pretty excited about it.

The message I was sent during my FIRST formative years, especially as a girl/women (if you don’t agree, please DON’T @ me…this is just my opinion…no greater or less great than anyone else’s…ah, see what I did there?), in the magazines and books I read, the movies I watched, and songs I memorized all the words to, as I listened to them over and over again, was to squeeze myself into the molds that were set out for me.
Are you a princess, Sharron or a badass bitch?
Are you a slut, or a nerd, or a shrew, or are you cool (imagine that dream)…or are you (insert label here).

And I think it might be no surprise to the many of you who wanted the same, I SO wanted to be a Princess. Like sooo sooo sooo much.
Cute, and not messy, and not at all awkward, admired and celebrated…and definitely not OTHER.
Then, when I realized neither my measurements nor personality…which were both categorized simply as LOUD…were very princess-like, I scrambled and decided that I wanted to be a bad ass bitch…before I even knew what the words meant.

Don’t fuck with Sharron. She’s a bad ass bitch…with a heart of gold…who, actually, really, desperately wants you to like her, underneath it all.
Okay, sure, confusing and a hard mix of realities…but okay!
So, I hopped on that ship and set sail for…again…many years.
Well, as I mentioned, THAT was exhausting.
It’s just exhausting to not be…and yes, I know this is a catch word for this age…but, it’s just exhausting to not be authentic.
It really is.

And now, after all of the other skin wearing, all of the being what I thought the world wanted me to be…I REALLY just want to be me…the very best version of me that I can express.
It only took me half a decade to figure THAT shit out…and the journey continues…again, with some professional assistance.

So, it should be easy to just be YOU, right?…to be authentic…but the world is not built for that kind of truth.
It balks.
It pushed back. It pushes back. But it was a bit sneakier, now that I’m older, possibly wiser. This dialogue…these guidelines…almost sounded like…advice.

Yes!! But…no.
No, no, no. (laughs)
Back in line, so you don’t miss your turn, you don’t wanna miss your turn, Sharron.
GIRL, Wear these pants. Don’t you want to wear these pants? But they would look so good on you!
Or this dress.
Oof, wow, stop yelling, people will think you are just too loud…you don’t want to be THAT loud, do you? Men don’t like loud.
Oh my goodness…your vulnerability is really magical, but sometimes, it’s too weak for my taste.
I didn’t think you could be strong and soft at the same time, can you? Wow, good for you, for me, it’s too confusing.
Lady! How dare you love your fleshy body that doesn’t match the photos of models, well good for you!… (whispers) but if you do, only love it up to this acceptable size whatever…because after that…ug.
(Smiles) Weird…you seem to love your voice, even when it speaks about things you aren’t already totally sure of…or of things you are sure of, that make people fidget…very brave…kinda self centred…but, yeah, brave.
Do but don’t.
Just don’t

And for me these past few years, the push was:

DON’T speak your truth, your trials, if it makes others feel uncomfortable, and if it makes you look kind of messy. And it DOES make you look messy, FYI. No one likes mad, sad, scared, or imperfect. Not one.
You don’t want to be messy and imperfect, do you? You can’t be boss, if you are messy and imperfect.

These guidelines, this push back in search of my best life, was/is like a closed door that was/is hot to the touch.
We are taught not to open a hot door because there is fire on the other side…but really…THIS door is just hot with the heat of the blazing sun on the other-side.

Now, I believe that when you stop trying to balance and fall…just free fall off of the balancing wire…life can really open and blossom…and you can THRIVE.
Messiness totally included and, actually, fucking encouraged.

So, in my search for my bliss (I know, another buzzword…but I really love it…who DOESN’T WANT BLISS, PEOPLE) I thought I would write about the journey and ALL it entails.

Here.

I used to blog and vlog many years ago…but I just stopped at some point, when life got busy, when writing about my life might have made me stop and look too hard at it…I just kinda stopped.
My website (and indeed most of life and existence) became a thing that sold my career, mostly my cabaret career, and became less of the thing I created to express myself…to search inside of, to find things out on…and to celebrate my wins and mourn my losses on.

About a month ago, during a walk under a grey sky, through a forest outside of Milton, ON, I decided it was time to do a rebrand, if you will…and step into the now of it all.
So, here we are people.
I let go of all my old writing and posts…and started anew. Because we are allowed to do that WHENEVER we want, ya know…start anew.

For a couple of years, I was doing most of my writing on FACEBOOK…but who wants Mark Zuckerberg to have all the stuff?
The other writing I was doing was for myself, in private, and for future projects…but I now am going back to writing essays out loud…which I dearly love.
It’s like being onstage but you can edit a bit better…and you don’t have to pay for a venue, or wear make up and heels.
AND I love a good, tight, beginning, middle and end. Who doesn’t? ALL PUNS INTENDED.
I won’t call it a blog, for some reason…the word “blog” has been stained, kinda like that word “podcast”, and makes me feel icky…so instead? I am just calling it

How VERY Dare She

Which sounds way naughtier then is actually is…probably.
Which I kinda dig.
I am not even half sure where my life and my writing will go…and I know I will fall…and I know I will triumph…and fall again… and triumph…rinse, repeat…but keep going.

And yes, I AM the hero in my own life…a popular self help statement, that has gotten a really bad rap.
I have been criticized by some, for always trying to be the winner or find the win in my crunchy stories…which I find highly confusing…don’t YOU want to be the winner?
Don’t YOU? I sure do.
Being the loser sucks major ass…and we are ALL that as well, which I have ALSO written about, at length…but I don’t really want to focus all my energies on that…WHO DOES!?
Loserville, is just a checkpoint along the way to Herotown, as far as I am concerned.

I decided to be my own hero years ago, and that decision is one of the things that literally, and truly, kept me going through some real shitty, shit.
Being my own hero helps my perspective, my sense of humour and my bounce back…all three things which are, incidentally, my super powers, for which I am eternally grateful.
This last statement goes against ALL the guidelines I mentioned in the beginning, but I don’t care.
I really don’t.
Not anymore.

Well, let’s be honest, some days, I will totally care because life will push back…but that’s just life.

Life is so complicated.
It makes you really work for it.
It reallllllllly does.
But maybe we can work through it…together, right?
Why not? We’ve tried everything else.
(shrugs with shoulders up)

Have a good one, people.
See you back here…you can hit the subscribe button and it will alert you when I have written something new! (And if the subscribe button is not there yet, come back and visit, it will be here soon…I was just too excited to wait)
I would love to have you with me, inside the bus ride…because, let’s be honest, it’s not a private plane…of my second formative years.
Something weird is SURE to happen.
And to that I say? Bring it.

Namaste, Bunnies and Kitties.

S.M. April 30th, 2021

POST SCRIPT: Please see the previous posting, which is something that I wrote a couple of weeks ago that I wanted to include on here….SHIP’S WHEEL and 4/20. I didn’t want it to be my first post…but I really love it. : )

*If you wanna subscribe to my BLOG…fuck, I hate that word…just scroll down and SUBSCRIBE…yes, down there on the lower right hand side. I put these essays up…and then promo them the next day…so you will see them first, if that appeals to you. Also, if you are digging what you read? Please pass it on! I mean…why not? It’s FREE!!

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