The story about my Posse- those little humans that keep following me… everywhere.

There is a constant inner dialogue happening in my mind. I am really trying to get more control over this epidemic, but it is proving to be a very trying task indeed. I have been this way for as long as I can remember- and I have a very good long term memory. Only recently did I realize that everyone doesn’t actually think as much as I do, about as many ridiculous things as I do nor in such vividly detailed story form as I do… This was nothing short of absolutely shocking to me!… Honestly, even now, I am shaking my head because I just cannot fathom not living with colorful pictures being painted and wildly entertaining and heart-wrenching backstories being noted with every human interaction I have ever had- the store clerk, the new friend from the park,… the very slow walker in front of me at Six Flags that I never quite saw a frontal view of, so had to fill in a few extra blanks as I imagined their life story. They all have start to finish speculatory stories written in my mind that they are completely unaware of.

Anyways, because I’m this weird, I find it instantly infuriating when a good storyline is interrupted. Whether it’s the phone, adult responsibiliities, or… my children. As you can imagine, epic tales are constantly brought to a screeching halt with “I need water… he’s hitting me… where’s my other shoe… are we there yet…” types of nonsense. My children are amazing kids, but heaven help me, I get a little claustrophobic sometimes with all the pawing, pulling, screaming, bouncing, needing, and whining!

So today, as they bantered back and forth about some nonsense toddling behind me as I entered the grocery store, it dawned on me:

I have a posse.

Me. Little ol’ me. I have a crew. A gang. A following of loyal, unwavering fans. I could cut left and they would, without blinking, follow left. I could duck behind a display of Halloween buckets and they would instinctively do the same. I could turn around and race back to the car and they would immediately follow suit. These are my followers. And I… am their super hero.

That’s right. Yesterday at Kroger, I just realized I’m actually famous. I’m a celebrity. And I’m not going to lie, I appreciated those little humans a little more. What used to feel like a force dragging behind me whenever I was trying to accomplish anything– laundry, errands, a workout… sleep– now is starting to feel like a fan club. Sure, it’s an overly-obsessive fan club with very few personal boundaries, but they have their high points. Like loyalty. And adoration. And cuteness.

I am a leader. And Thing 1 and Thing 2 are my people. I am a super star. And they are my unwavering fans. Pretty freaking cool.

My new plan of action: Next time when my fans interrupt my inner dialogue, I will bow and thank them for their undying love, blow them a kiss, and scurry off behind the curtain to escape the uprising of those crying, screaming, straight cray-cray groupies!

Stay safe, parents. My heart goes out to each of you.




As always, if this particular sequence of words moved you in heart, mind, soul or spirit, please follow my DrinkerBelle Blog and FB page, comment, and share the post.  My story is not just for me, and neither is yours. #everymindmatters

Hashtag #everymindmatters and share this blog, your story, or how you’ve seen mental illness.  Join the fight against ostracizing those who suffer where you can’t see.  Let’s learn how to create a safe place in our society for truth, help and support.  We are not alone.



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