Who You Are Is Okay

I inexplicably dance every time I hear music, whether it's a lame TV commercial or the theme song to Golden Girls (which sometimes my husband randomly sings just because he wants to see me bust a move, even though he'll thoroughly deny that he knows the lyrics). I am okay with my quirks. Life is so full of hardships and I wonder why wouldn't you dance if you feel like it?

Years ago, a group of our friends went out for karaoke. Listening to someone else singing, I asked a friend if she wanted to dance. She said, "Um, there isn't really a dance floor." I replied that everything is a dance floor, ("THIS table is a dance floor!!!"). We jumped on the table and danced until it flipped over and (unhurt) we laughed uncontrollably.

I'm pretty sure that anyone who knows me knows that I've given up on social norms. Yanno, I've had a ton of hurt, and frankly, I just don't care anymore. After a lifetime of variables in a blended family, I've officially thrown in the towel on what might be considered normal, and I finally find myself returning to what feels natural to me; reading, writing, loving, and dreaming peacefully while Papi visits with me. I wish that everyone could create a life that genuinely makes them happy.

This next part might sound odd to you. Rest assured, I am not crazy; just expressing my beliefs. (Some people speak to an invisible Jesus, so it shouldn't be that weird that I'm spiritual in my own way.) It's a known law of physics that energy can not be created or destroyed. Just because someone's body has given up doesn't mean they aren't still with us daily.

I miss my grandpa more than anyone will ever understand even though he and I still hang out at least a few nights a week in my dreams. He slams his fist on the counter exclaiming how mad he is about how his estate was dealt with, and waves his hands in the air saying he hardly knew the squatters that took over his trailer. I watch him holding Son on the back porch. He showed me how he died. He tells me that he'd prefer his photo to be put next to Grandma Delores' watch in my bedroom instead of where I'd originally hung it. I don't know what to make of all this, but I fully believe that my Papi is still fully with us. There is another grandpa that visits me often to chat, then apologizes that we have to cut our conversation short because it's time for my husband to wake up for work. Every single time, I find that Dan has overslept his alarm.

Nobody knows exactly what happens when you die, and I don't want to spend my life chasing what I think will make money. If you sustain your lifestyle doing something you don't love, just to keep living a life that doesn't make you happy, what's the point? Just living?

As long as my son is happy and healthy, I have no plans on letting life pass me by.

Moral of the story, if you want to dance, just dance. If you want to sing, just sing. If you feel like making up your own rap song while grocery shopping even though people are already staring at you because of your disabled son's loud medical equipment while your husband pretends he's not with you and awkwardly laughs, don't worry. People are people, and you never know how much time you have to spend with the important ones.