This past week my life became divided into two eras (think, “2000 B.C.” or if you ascribe to the other label, “2000 BCE” and “2012 A.D.”).
I chose to be defined by my most recent surgeries, and the “eras” in my life were humorously labeled Before the Boobie Era (B.B.E.) and After the Boobie Era (A.B.E.). Today I’m going to share my life in real time, A.B.E.
The era titles are all part of a master plan, of course… a Ms. Cheevious, fun way of bringing attention to October and Breast Cancer Awareness Month (and in honor of my sister Mimi Larimore, who lost her battle with Ovarian Cancer – something that is typically related, genetically).
I actually wrote/talked about the creation of these two eras, and shared a special edition comical v-log about it this week on Singles Warehouse. It was a lighthearted glimpse into my life and a couple of reasons the two eras came to be… (that post is here and you may need it after reading this one — OY: http://www.singleswarehouse.co.uk/2012/10/before-the-boobie-era-bbe/).
But shit just got really “real” for me tonight. I can wax Ms. Cheevious (empowered, frivolous, free-spirited) all I want, but if someone brings the shit to me, well they’re gonna’ get Ms. Cheevious with a whole boat load of Lisa J. backing her up.
Just keep reading.
Every single one of us moves through our lives in our own space and time. We know when we feel good, fulfilled…happy, and when we do not. We set our goals in life based on the memory of those feelings and the desire to be in that good, fulfilled… happy state for ourselves, our children, our lives. I’m talking about our persons people. We know when we like who we are, and when we don’t. We set goals for who we want to “be” (and all that entails).
We become focused on these goals… chipping slowly away at achieving them, unrelentingly. And along that little path, the compulsion to continue the pursuit remains, even if out of balance, while the tendency to aggrandize and justify our sometimes too-fervent efforts (as altruistic and pure … for the good of ourselves, our children and our loved ones) rises up within us at every “thought” or every “someone” who would question our uber-focus toward our goals.. desires… even our efforts. Hopefully as we move along the path, we correct any present imbalance and move back to center, still focused on the prize.
Though this path of focus and sometime achievement often provides us obstacles of either our own design, or of those we meet on the path… seldom do our movements provide a crystal clear glimpse of their affect on our loved ones.
It’s no matter if determination is our sword (as it is mine) and humor and frivolity our shield (that’s mine too). Nothing dooms the work of the sword so fast, at least in my case, as the verbal declaration of my own son of his embarrassment at the thought of being known as the son of Ms. Cheevious. His life’s dread is for his friends to connect him to “her.”
Yes. Here the happy-go-lucky “I” was, and moving through my life, chipping away at my goals, enjoying every moment… when my adult son, who is part and parcel to the journey (one of the very reasons behind the compulsion to achieve goals, to relentlessly chip away at them for the good of “him”… of “them”), made it clear he does not want to be associated in any way with the Ms. Cheevious side of me. Something about guys and the way they think, and the fact his mom is attractive, single and in her forties, or some such story… that is all he could offer to explain. He obviously knows nothing of Ms. Cheevious…
I could spend my entire life or certainly the rest of this article analyzing this. I could die trying to make sense of why on earth a website moniker, even a persona that is rooted in LIVING LIFE POSITIVELY, having FUN, the PURSUIT OF DREAMS, the PURSUIT OF AUTHENTICITY and THE EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN would embarrass anyone. I could also chalk it up to insecurity… or ignorance. That he simply doesn’t know what it’s all about, who I am or who Ms. Cheevious is. That he’s basing it purely on what he “thinks” the name means, which is ridiculous.
But I won’t do that. I’d be making his same mistake. I don’t know the depths of his reasoning. And he has his own journey. He has to choose his own sword and shield, and if they inhibit his ability to “allow” all around him to “be” who they want to be, including me… well… I cannot help him. I can only be….well, me.
I am pretty damn good at analyzing my own shit, especially if I go deep, but I don’t ever get very far attempting to analyze anyone else’s, so I’ll spare you. All I can do is respond, assimilate, absorb and continue. I love both of my sons. I love all of my loved ones. I accept them for whomever they choose to be… even if who they choose to be doesn’t allow for me, as I choose to be.
And so, it is in the here and now, in real time, that I’ll spell it out for you. This is where the shit gets real:
Dammit all, but life is not what we expect. It doesn’t come to us in the pretty package we love, that is easy to handle and comfortable for us to “live” in. Life comes to us with a bunch of loose tools, nuts, bolts and moving parts (some with a will of their own), and we attempt to put it all together without an instruction manual.
The fact is, I am Lisa J. Davis. I am Ms. Cheevious. Ms. Cheevious is everything I truly am and I am everything she could ever hope to be… Fun-loving, free-spirited, thoughtful, energetic, intelligent, fearless, fierce, loving, kind, giving and MOTIVATED beyond belief. All of these traits (and so many more) are the essence of me… and the essence of Ms. Cheevious, and what I hope for any Ms. Cheevious woman.
So, if my son (or any loved one) has deep-rooted beliefs or misunderstandings of what it means to “be” Ms. Cheevious or me, and chooses to take on a fear of association without really knowing what it means… well, that, my lovely boys and girls is truly and quite simply their choice.
That’s it? That’s where the shit gets real?
Why… yes! And that is a friggin’ EPIPHANY people! That choice is what makes those loved ones who “they” are. And I choose to allow them to “be.” To sit with that. I may ache for a bit over their choice, knowing there is so much more that could set them free if they only tried to see beyond their paradigm… that there is so much more we could share and love and live together, if they only could see… I can hurt for the rejection. But I also love them without attachment. I love my son for everything that he is, for the life he is building with his tools, nuts, bolts, willful moving parts… and with no instruction manual. I love seeing what’s coming out of his life. It thrills me, warms my heart, makes me laugh, cry and shine with pride. And I will continue to do so.
But this is my life, my friends, in real time. I am Ms. Cheevious, and I always will be.
Before the Boobie Era, After the Boobie Era, come rain, shine, sickness, surgery, health, love, loss … I am very happy in my own skin. I am glad for my life, for who I am, and I look forward to the next adventure.
Bring it… because I am sticking around…
Now go out there and be just who you are, come hell or high water.
“Believe in Yourself & all that you are. Know there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle.” – Christian D. Larson Quote
Love you people!!!! Mmmpphhhuuuhhh!!!!
Lisa Jey Davis
aka Ms. Cheevious
Editor in [Mis] Chief
Before You Go:
Please post on Facebook or tweet the below statement, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month:
SAVE.YOUR.LIFE. If relatives suffered Ovarian or Breast cancer, GET THE GENETIC SCREENING. #BRCA #BreastCancerAwareness @MsCheevious
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Other articles you may enjoy from Ms. Cheevious:
Before the Boobie Era (BBE) (On Singles Warehouse)
Lack of attention to her boyfriend spurs Lisa Jey’s creation of a new era! (Read More)
I’m fairly confident I could write an equally flattering post on how wonderful it is to be a man; however I’m not one. It’s great to be a chick. (READ MORE)
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All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious