A Little Shit

I wanna bring this spirit of myself back and honor it.


I’ve always thought of myself as a little shit when I was five years old. My mom had just had my baby sister, there was a three-year-old sister and then me. Three girls. We had just moved from the city to a farm that would be the entire source of income for a family of five, so I’m sure the pressure was tight. This old farmhouse we were in was drafty and a bit broken down but not unlivable at all. I’m sure not fun to live in with three tiny children. Mom was busy with fixing up that house and taking care of the new baby and I had some freedom to do my thing so I did.

What did I do? A bunch of shenanigans:

*I gathered water and baby powder and a pan to “cook” and then to hide the evidence I went out on the balcony and dumped it over, right into the front yard.

*I learned how to ride my bike without training wheels that year and promptly went to the big hill and wrecked. Bleeding and dizzy from the impact, the visiting grandkids of the neighbors helped walk me home, an arm over each with my sister bringing my bike.

*I got in the car and put it in gear to “drive” and rolled the car into a shed.

*I assisted my mom’s flowers in blooming by opening them up for her.

*I got out on the roof of the house and walked around.

*The first day of kindergarten a new friend asked me to come over so I just got off the bus with her. My parents had no idea where I was.

I always have looked at this year of my life as being a little asshole, causing trouble by being too adventurous.

Perhaps I wasn’t an asshole.

Maybe just a little girl full of adventure and spirit needing somewhere to put all of that.

I listened to a fellow writer tell a story of a little wolf girl who was a truth-teller no bullshit kind of girl. I think I was a wolf girl who wanted to live life to the fullest, balls to the wall.

I felt that rascally part of me come alive when I was going through the year of sluttery. It was fun! Granted I’m purposefully not thinking of all the bullshit right now because it sounds so lovely to go meet a new man and have a drink and makeout and moreeeeeeeee. God the more. I miss the more. I miss walking up and seeing their eyes admire my body. I miss getting buzzed and flirting my ass off. I miss wondering what the first kiss will be like.

But I’m in the Year of Discovery so when do I feel that joy in other things? What am I doing when I feel soooooo happy?

  • when I’m writing something I want to.
  • when I’m speaking.
  • when I’m out and about with my gay bestie.
  • when I’m kicking ass at a workout of some kind whether it’s a run, or lifting weights, or biking or yoga.
  • when I enjoy a really good book (I miss this. I haven’t read as much for fun since I’ve had so much grad class stuff. No more!!! I just hope I can check out books from the library this summer.)
  • when I’m a part of a group of authentic, intelligent, writer thinkers’
  • when I’m traveling somewhere interesting, walkable with great architecture or nature.
  • when I’m in nature soaking in the sunshine hiking or kayaking on my own.

That list does make me happy.

I never lost that little shit. I still have her in me. Over the last year I feel I’ve gotten closer to her.

And I’m even at a place where I want to honor that little “shit.”

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

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