one of a kind.

Posted: January 12, 2017 at 9:47 pm

what we are told as children, shapes the adults we become…

there once was a little girl who had a curl
right in the middle of her forehead
and when she was good, she was very, very good
and when she was bad she was horrid.

nobody loves me, everybody hates me
guess i’ll eat some worms…

i was also nicknamed…GWB..General Walking Boss.

my grandmother died when i was 9 years old.
when i was 7 and 8 yrs old, she was too sick to sing and speak these words to me.
so she must have spoken them in my early years
and i still remember this.

sigh…my grandmother loved me..my whole family loved me..
but i apparently was a bit of a pain in the ass.

so i grew up in a family that loved me yet somehow felt i didn’t quite fit.

i am sure this is where my affinity for broken, discarded, unwanted animals come from…
they too don’t quite “fit.”

i got other things from my childhood ( my father was a well educated anglican minister and my mother was a master degree nurse.)…independence, self reliance, an overly developed sense of responsibility and duty and the ability to engage in critical thinking.

but my fearlessness…i think i got that from my grandmother. i learned young that i was different and so i accepted and ran with it.

saints grew out of my differentness….my absolute refusal to be delegated into any particular box.
yes i live with upwards of 120 animals which ought to scare the crap out of anyone involved in animal welfare.
but i refused to be the sweet but somewhat crazy little cat lady.
being a mentally ill animal hoarder is wayyyy too far beneath me.
because the other 3 things i got from my parents was a keen intelligence, a good dose of over achievement, and an ego that is fed by personal pride.

so if i was going to do rescue and flirt with the animal rescue dark side then i was going to do animal rescue but i was going to do it right out in the highly visible bright light.
crazy i am not.
good hearted but misguided..not me.
sweet, selfless, angelic saint…also not me.

i have approached rescue with intelligence, due diligence and strength, they are my secret service squad keeping the ones my soft and childish heart sees….safe.
i am the proverbial coconut…that hairy, hard shell holds the milky nectar of cherishing life.

so yes what we are told as children does affect who we become as adults but along with that comes the child;s personal choice.
we choose to let our weaknesses cripple us or we can choose to grow them into strengths.

my advice to everyone with broken bits is the same as i telepathically give to the animals….gather and bind the broken bits together, run with it, let yourself soar and fly.
life is a journey, enjoy it and be grateful..you truly are one of a kind.

6 Comments on "one of a kind."

  • Fiona says

    Thank god for differentness!

  • Lynne arnason says

    Well said makes you stop and think thankyou

  • Mo says

    Lol…my father used to quote that same poem to me….and I was horrid. Sorry dad

  • Linda says

    I think we all grow up a little different and in some ways, broken. It’s like the Walter Mitty poem, the guy who had everything but went home and put a bullet through his head. No one knew why. Some people just hide the way they feel about themselves. Ever watch Survivor? You get to know the individuals as the weeks go on. They all have their insecurities, even the beautiful high achievers.

  • Laura says

    Too funny my dad said I had that same darn curl 🙂
    One of a kind won’t win many poker games…..but it can be a cherished hand of life! This mind set has for sure allowed our Saints crew to reach amazing heights. Also I love your coconut analogy…..maybe we can stop calling you GWB and now go with Coco….lol

  • Barbara says

    I remember Mom singing the ‘worm’ song, but not Grandma. I can’t remember Grandma singing at all–funny how our memories and experiences from that time are different. BTW, do you happen to remember the “Desperado” song Dad used to sing to us in the car? I really wish I could remember that song–good memories from the times when we all sang in the car.

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