Effy asked us to day what is sacred. For me, there are lots of things.
- My Books
- My Journals, both art and writing
- My Pens. I will cut you if you mess with my pens. Okay I'd just get loud if you lose or break one.
- My Art Supplies
- My Genealogy Work
- My Photo and Albums that I created for my genealogy.
- My Art and My Writing
- My Rosary collection
- My Grandmother's memory and her faith in the Virgin Mary
I could probably go one a bit more. What isn't on that list of sacred things, is my personal space. I have never had my personal space/bubble/boundaries respected. Even as a kid, my mother thought nothing of going through my room and my things to find "evidence" of wrong doing. She'd read my diary, go through my book bag and all my note books. I think that is part of the reason why I have such a hard time keeping up with a daily journal practice. She scarred me with her snooping
If I tried to have a space of my own to sit and create, people have had no qualms about just barging in and interrupting or trying to hover over my shoulder and asking a million questions. Plainly stating that I'm going to try and work on something and didn't wish to be disturbed was pointless. I might as well had a sign up that said come on in, don't mind me. Why is so fucking hard for people to understand and respect someone's boundaries or space? I don't invade your shit, don't invade mine! It really is a sore spot with me. But I won't get on my soap box and rant about it any more than I already have. Do you think signs like these might help in the future? (Images found on Google)
No comments:
Post a Comment