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I Am Not Made of Glass


I am not made of glass.  I am made of guts and bones and lots of I-Dare-You-To.  I am made of spark and fire, of inner structures that bend and groan, but rarely shatter.  I am made of tender oases of welcoming kindness and verdant pastures of Leave-Me-Alone.  

I am not made of glass.  

Today these are the words that I write after a day of feeling bitterness toward another adult who bullied and pushed, who took care of business at my expense.  I spent a good deal of last night and another good gobble of today announcing my injury and licking my exposed cuts.  

Then, I went to the bookstore, read books, and drank hot chocolate. I opened books by Wayne Dyer that reminded me that I am NOT my reputation.  I opened books by other artists and remembered that being me is not contingent on being well-received.  I came home and never answered the ringing phone.  I worked on my altered book, painted an old doll I found, and played with papier mache.  I watched a movie, ate a sandwich, and found my Self waiting for me to just be quiet so I could remember...

I am not made of glass.

Comments

  1. PamOctober 26, 2010 at 11:42 PM

    Not having any idea what transpired between you and "the other adult", but experience has shown me bad behavior is often an attempt to cover up a fear. I have wondered how the faculty of this school would feel when the likes of you showed up with your mountain of energy, enthusiasm, and creativity. Those who have been at the game a little longer could feel threatened by this young whippersnapper with her good ideas and bucket loads of energy. At some level their behavior is a compliment-left handed though it may be...you did the right thing. A trip to a bookstore always cures what ails me...wishing you a great tomorrow!

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