Awkward Pumps and Love

I haven't done the Sunday Confession thing in a while because I have been struggling to blog as real life kicks my donkey. I have high moments and low moments, and someday I might confess what is really going on with me, but I'm kind of hoping I just get better and don't have to. If you people knew how crazy I really was, you probably wouldn't want to read this blog, or maybe that would make you want to read it more. I don't know. Crazy seems to be the in-thing now. Maybe I should just spill my guts out like an online group therapy to get famous. Maybe I need a pair of cojones first. They are like socks. You can always find one, but the other was probably eaten by the dryer monster.

Anyway, today's Sunday Confession writing prompt is Awkward Moments.


TODAY's AWKWARD MOMENT

I went to the gas station that uses old pumps because I know the owners and am a loyal customer to that place in particular. It's the one where the people who work there become friends because they work there and I go there that frequently. I mentioned older pumps because it was kind of busy when I pulled in, so I had to share a pump with a guy. That sounds dirty. Anyway, he's got a huge honker truck and I'm in a Toyota Camry, so I have the smaller tank, (which makes total sense because he was a black man and you know what they say about black men and their pumps and tanks) and the entire time I pumped, I felt so guilty for slowing down his pump. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was like Tell Tale Heart, I murdered his time and I should have waited until he finished to pump like a lady, but who does that? Nobody. Just me. So I'm pumping right? And when I was done, without thinking, I thanked the guy.

Rereading already sounds more like porn than getting gas. Anyway. He looked at me like I was on crack. I would have too. He was just pumping gas and some crazy white woman wearing a nice red sweater and purple sweat pants thanks him randomly. For no reason. He hadn't heard all my thoughts about sharing pumps. So of course, to make the situation "better," after realizing I thanked him, I decided the best thing for me to do at that point was.... Duh Duh Dummmmmmmm. Explain. I don't know why because that ALWAYS makes it worse. ALWAYS! The more I talked, the more stupid I sounded. I'm not even sure what I said exactly, but I was telling him we were sharing pumps and I pumped slowing down his pump and I'm sorry. You know, it sounds much worse telling you than it felt at the time.

Then I just stopped mid sentence and walked away telling myself I am so stupid and that's okay.

TODAY's MOMENT THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN AWKWARD BUT WASN'T 

I want to get cereal for a minute (cereal is what I say for serious sometimes). I also ran into a random lady at Church offering me assistance. I was trying to find someone and he had already left, so she asked if she could help me. I told her I just needed prayers. She offered money. I said, "Just prayers." Then she said, "I love you." Now that was an amazing feeling, being told by someone you just met that they love you. I needed to hear someone say that so bad today. And it felt even more amazing to return it with, "I love you too." Then we hugged.

I don't think I can ever relay in words the importance of this to me. I'm the type of person where Love is like my anti-kryptonite. When I feel loved by anyone and everyone, I'm on a high like no one can take me down. Like the Happy Song, Ain't nobody gonna bring me down my love is too high... When I don't feel loved, I don't go Katy Perry psycho evil dark horse. I love too hard for that. When I don't feel loved, I still love all those around me despite my feelings. And that makes me feel helpless because I have nothing to fight. I have nothing to revenge. All I have is a lonely pool of self pity. That feeling is my kryptonite. I'm useless when I don't feel loved. All it takes sometimes is to hear one person say they love you to open your eyes and see the love around you. 

AND when I did find the man I was looking for, I learned a new prayer I'm sharing. I know, I don't sound religious on this blog, but I want to share the prayer because this isn't about religion. It's real. My new Mantra for the time being, one I hijacked from Dessert Monks...

Breathe in saying: Jesus, Son of the Living God,
Breathe out saying: have mercy on me, a sinner

Let in the Jesus. Let out the sin.

And just so you all know...

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

If for whatever reason you overdosed on twizzlers and you like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner

You can also find me under these rocks...