Mummy roars
I won't lie to you, the past few months have been a tough gig for me and mine.
It started off with a terminal cancer, progressed through blatant emotional abuse and subsequent lifestyle changes, with a couple of deaths and some pretty dark times to boot.
Fast forward to July 2018, and it's good. There have been some significant moments for us all, and the hard work is paying off.
Add to that, I've rediscovered my love for musical theatre. Life is more than okay.
But things have changed. The mouse has roared, as my husband so wonderfully put it. And she's about to roar again.
You see, there's one thing that becomes clearer than anything when the chips are down. And that's who your friends are.
If you're really lucky, there'll be one or two constants who stick with you through all the shit - they're the ones that will let you cry yourself out, talk yourself out and in extreme circumstances, drink yourself out. They've seen you at your worst and will allow you to indulge in your grief until it's time to pick yourself up again. Then they'll be on hand with one of those lint remover rolls to lift the final specks of dust from your clothes as you relaunch yourself into life. They're keepers. And they don't judge. I've more than one, and I'm truly blessed.
Then there's the friends who turn up in surprising places - shared experiences lead to shared allegiances, and there are some really nice people out there who were friends just waiting to be discovered.
So in short, there's true friends and there's new friends.
Then there's everyone else.
And in among everyone else are the fair weather friends, the two-faced friends, the ones who like to gossip about you and your plight or put on a show around others. To every one of those, in my life or the life of my friends, I have one piece of advice.
Next time you see me, turn the fuck around and fuck off. Because I like being a mouse that roars. And every roar comes from behind very sharp teeth. And you really, really don't want to be bitten.
Grrr.
It started off with a terminal cancer, progressed through blatant emotional abuse and subsequent lifestyle changes, with a couple of deaths and some pretty dark times to boot.
Fast forward to July 2018, and it's good. There have been some significant moments for us all, and the hard work is paying off.
Add to that, I've rediscovered my love for musical theatre. Life is more than okay.
But things have changed. The mouse has roared, as my husband so wonderfully put it. And she's about to roar again.
You see, there's one thing that becomes clearer than anything when the chips are down. And that's who your friends are.
If you're really lucky, there'll be one or two constants who stick with you through all the shit - they're the ones that will let you cry yourself out, talk yourself out and in extreme circumstances, drink yourself out. They've seen you at your worst and will allow you to indulge in your grief until it's time to pick yourself up again. Then they'll be on hand with one of those lint remover rolls to lift the final specks of dust from your clothes as you relaunch yourself into life. They're keepers. And they don't judge. I've more than one, and I'm truly blessed.
Then there's the friends who turn up in surprising places - shared experiences lead to shared allegiances, and there are some really nice people out there who were friends just waiting to be discovered.
So in short, there's true friends and there's new friends.
Then there's everyone else.
And in among everyone else are the fair weather friends, the two-faced friends, the ones who like to gossip about you and your plight or put on a show around others. To every one of those, in my life or the life of my friends, I have one piece of advice.
Next time you see me, turn the fuck around and fuck off. Because I like being a mouse that roars. And every roar comes from behind very sharp teeth. And you really, really don't want to be bitten.
Grrr.
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Thanks for ranting!