When the dealer slid the papers across the desk, I gladly took them, twisted them on a ninety degree angle, scribbled my signature on the dotted line, then wiped the ink smudge off of my pinkie finger.
“You’re a leftie!” he exclaimed.
I raised my brows and smiled, “Yup. I’m a unicorn.”
Shawn kicked me from under the desk.
“My son is too and he has such a hard time with certain things. Like using power tools. The saws are made with the cords on the right side. This world is not built for you guys.”
“The f*ck it isn’t Ron,” I silently said…
….but kind of loud enough for every moron in the room to hear probably.
“What?” asked Ron.
“What?!” asked Shawn.
Ron sent me lottery tickets in the mail.
They weren’t left handed lottery tickets and that was disappointing.
10% of the world is left handed and we have been adapting to right sided everything like over sized ring binders and never having any left handed scissors or baseball gloves in school. No one wants to sit next to us at the table “You knocked my elbow Carol”. Well guess what? We don’t want to sit next to you either. Then there’s the dreaded smudges when we write. We wear the brilliant masterpieces we write all on the sides of our hands. I’ve had people ask me if I injured myself because sometimes it looks like a bad bruise.
I’m also not sure if it’s a left hander thing but when I write, I write deep and hard into the page – anchoring my pen so that it doesn’t slip all over. If that makes any sense. If I flip the page and the next and the next, the imprint carries on forever. My hands hurt after I write but it’s a satisfying feeling to me.
I initially started this post in a whole different direction and it was charged with so much anger. I wrote with such an emotional intensity that I couldn’t even decipher some of the words I had bore down in my journal. There were scratches, small holes, bleeding ink stains from tears and long pauses where I believe I had to walk away.
It was the kind of writing where you could tell that the person was at the end of themselves – frozen on the tightrope and the filter had fallen clear off.
Angry, exhausted, anxious, depleted, and done telling everyone “I’m fine”.
I am feeling incredibly complicated inside.
I could list the things that are smothering me but instead, my energy needs to be on the things that keep me moving.
My son’s newest thing is finding the most beautiful leaf whenever he goes outside. He hands it to me for safe keeping. I just love watching him hunt for that “special leaf”. I don’t know what constitutes the perfect one but he knows. I have dozens scattered in my house and I literally don’t care that they’re flaking off. It makes me happy.
It makes me happy that he can spot beauty in all the chaos outside. I always tell him to “keep your eye out for the little things. They are what makes this life so wonderful.”
“I know mom,” he says.
Tell me, what is making you happy?
*Life has been coming at our family really hard lately and it has been challenging my mental health. I see my psych once a week and I joined a support group.