Being Me

Being Me. Based on a True Story

Introduction

I don't know how you or I got here. I don’t see how any of us can be certain really. I know we are here. We are born as a part of some assigned team. Some of the teams seem stacked like a Catholic school football team. And some of us are on shitty teams with drunk coaches like the Bad News Bears. (The first one with Walter Mattheau.) It’s all by chance or Someone is doing this to us. I’m not sure how I feel about it. A few teams have great uniforms and really nice equipment. Kind of like the villain teams of every Disney sports movie. And then there are the commoners. The team that stands no chance. No athletic ability, no support, maybe one kid on the squad that can throw or kick a ball. Except in real life, they don’t pull out the miracle win. At least not from what I’ve seen. But they keep playing . Because they love the game or just because they have to. 

I have a friend that is a spiritual healer. I call her my magic eight ball. She communicates with what she calls Spirit and gains insight into people’s lives that help attain their greater good. She’s awesome. She lives far away, and we only talk through text or email occasionally. I would talk more. I would abuse her gift. I’m sure I already do. But seriously, why can’t Spirit tell me if I should grow out my hair? What’s the big deal? Anyway, I asked her once (many times) what is the meaning of life. Like, for real. What the fuck? She said, and still maintains, that the meaning and purpose of this life is to experience love. To give it, receive it, perhaps lose it, and work for it. To overcome fear and embody love.

 Ok. 

So here we all are. Walking around, living. Some say we existed prior to this and that we got together with our team of eternal traveling companions and chose what we would learn in this life. Which really pisses me off. What was I thinking? I can just see Cosmic Karen at the big table. I’m thinking about dealing with these abandonment issues once and for all. Let’s hit the daddy issues hard. And I want to feel it all. Hell, I even want to feel other people’s stuff. Yeah. That’ll be perfect. 

And so, April 13, 1965, I came down the tunnel in the universe. I landed in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Daughter of Vance and Kay Louque, sister of Kay Lynn, Little Vance, and future Kandi. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, and an umpire yelled, “Play ball!” And I did. We all did. 

And this is that story. The account of my journey. Not in chronological order, because I’m too lazy. I’d rather just stream this out as it surfaces. Childhood memories, yesterday, my children, all of it. Happy times, drunk abusive men, rock concerts, sunsets, laughter, nursing my children, marriage, divorce, marriage again, you get it. It’s all mine. And yours. I’ll try to only cast myself in bad lighting. I have no interest in making anyone feel bad. But some things are just ugly. And some are beautiful. Whatever they are, the experiences are truth. They are the sum, so far, of my evolution. My becoming Love.