The Pesty Prickle of a Provocateur

Often times when I blog, I’m working through something internally. There’s turmoil within.  A dual has been invoked, and an answer buried by emotion, is needing to be defined. The muse has struck and I feel compelled to write her out in a parlay of sorts of the mind and of whit. Somehow it has awoke and wedged herself within and has become a “burr under my saddle.”

I once had an ex beau…..  man friend…. dare I say, boyfriend?  It seems so juvenile at my age to call a man I’m dating a “boyfriend.”  My daughter has boyfriends.  I can’t wrap my head around this concept as it’s seems kind of silly so I avoid it all together.  It’s mushy and it weirds me out.

In any case, this cowboy/hockey player”friend” of my mine (think Sam Elliot on skates, with a little more meat on him and slightly smaller moustache) once described me as a woman with a “burr under her saddle.”  I remember looking at him, taken back at the simplicity of the description and yet it’s accuracy.  It was meant to be a compliment and yet a point of “self reflection.” One of those “your greatest strength is your greatest weakness” type of statements.

And so hence, once again, I have a burr under my saddle.

As I sit here frantically banging out sentences, much like a diary, the words spew forth and somehow work themselves out. The longer the run on sentence, the greater internal angst I have built.   The more I write, the more I excavate, exposing myself little by little, coming to the surface to breath only to return to dig deep once again. The words begin to mold thoughts.  Thoughts begin to mold understanding.  Understanding gives way to peace and thereby dislodging the burr within my britches and I am able to move on with my life.

I’m freed from the provocative pesty prickle.

Sometimes though, a little while later, I find that it was premature and the Prick. Still. Stings.

There I lay in bed, alone, with my thoughts for company. The muse strikes and my mind begins to spin, going over and over regarding every possible detail, and then some. I may even begin to exaggerate the imminency of the situation.  Imagine that!?!?

Hold on I need to overthink

I start to visualize the “what if’s.” Throw in a dash of past unkept pain and motivate it by whipping in some embered emotion.  Pretty soon I find myself roused and motivated enough to climb Everest…. in record time. Suddenly the unattainable becomes a feat attainable and WELL within my immediate reality. The blood begins to flow and with it the mind. It’s a slow fade really. The compromise comes cloaked in chosen denial and in stealth, it lures me.  I take the bait wholeheartedly and grasp it like it owes me money, never letting go.   Without discipline and without accountability, I exhaust my defences and sooner or later, one by one my mind’s healthy boundaries gives way  and my defences fall.

I am undone.  The burr has sunk it’s teeth.

So there I lay.  Alone in the dark and I wrestle.

The mid night daydreams begin to play over and over in my head and increase in their intensity exponentially.  From the thought of putting children to bed.  To conquering the master closet.  To painting the front door the perfect shade of Martha’s Robin’s Egg Blue. To finding that close parking stall in rush hour at church because I’m late. To a neighbourhood softball game. To visualizing coming at my opponent in a face-off in a up and coming soccer game. To a game, set, match in my next ladies league volleyball game. To a martial arts tournament.  To finishing last year’s taxes. To paying the bills on time. To coordinating vacations days with my ex, his girlfriend and his girlfriend’s ex. To throat punching your lawyer…..

I’ll stop there. It’s just gets worse the longer I’m awake.

Apparently there is a burr under my saddle.

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