You know when you look at a word for so long it just looks…WRONG?

Adult has gotten there for me. To the weirdness. At this point in the looking-at-a-word-too-long delirium, I’ve come to the conclusion that adult is actually supposed to be pronounced “Ahhh-DUUU-LTT.”

Yah. I have no idea. I’ve found that the absolute best possible solution is to just roll with it (“it” being me) and it will make sense….maybe…eventually.

Anyhow, as my therapy (THEEEE-RAPISTS!) assignment, I’m supposed to illustrate who my “adult” (say it with me now: AH-DUUU-LTT!) self really IS. And because my drawing skills were left behind in the 2nd grade, along with my maturity, apparently, I’ve decided that writing about my adult (AH-DUUUU-LLTT!) self is probably the better option.

(Obviously, I am already failing miserably in this exercise)

The issue here is that my adult self…yah…this needs another name…how about BIG GIRL JESSICA…yes. BGJ for short (I *do* realize there is zero bell ringing significance to those three letters. Again, roll with it.). Where was I? Right. BGJ has no idea how to step up and over LBJ (Little Bitty Jessica) and be all, “STOP PROTECTING. This isn’t an emergency. It’s like, life.”

Because right now…right now what happens is my massive, tricked out LBJ bejeweled protector shield comes flying out the instant it thinks there is any HINT for POTENTIAL conflict.

And when I say “potential” and “conflict” together, this means anything from a knock ‘em down, drag ‘em out fight to pussy-footing around about what to have for dinner. Or who goes first in the shower. Or what to watch on TV.

I’d rather be all, “Whatever. I don’t care” when what BGJ wants to say is, “HELL. TO. THE. NO. Watching another second of ‘America’s Got [editor's note: ZERO] Talent’ will drive me to start making pock marks in the ceiling by hurling large, blunt objects in its general direction. ‘General direction’ being defined as HIGH and briefly defying gravity.”

(you are understanding why therapy has become essential, no?)

This standing up for myself is super challenging. I totally understand that mini-conflicts are kind of important to just take head-on and deal with instead of employing some kind of defensive measure. And I’ve never figured out how to do that…take conflict actively. In the momently (it’s an adverbjative, didn’t you know?). And now it is causing all sorts of internal conflict between BGJ and LBJ…more specifically, it’s BGJ versus LBJ’s bedazzled shield (with sparklies!).

I’m actually in the middle of having a mini-conflict right now. With Tim. AS. I. WRITE. How randomally appropriate.

It’s about Colorado. And it’s super difficult. It’s not even a fight. It’s just…new. It’s standing up for what I really care about without backing down. And this newness is hard.

[momentary visual interlude while I practice bringing out the big guns...aka BGJ]

[I'm pretty sure the basic message *they* are trying to convey here is: NO]

[can I swim? NO.]

[but...it says...? NO]

[Pet the animals? NO]

[do a head stand into the ground while defying gravity with my urine stream? NO]

[wave at you from choppy water between pairs of shark fins? NO]

[float aimlessly with squiggly lines? Hell, I already peed so...danger should be minimal. NO]

[do a flailing superman jump onto the shore to escape the Goliath wave chasing me? NO]

[that last one doesn't exactly seem fair....? NO.]

[Wait, so you mean, the answer to the flailing superman thing is no or you mean I had a point?]

So. I’ll let you ponder that while I get back to my real-life conflict. OR…non-conflict.

And Tim pointed out my backing down in above referenced mini conflict that wasn’t really a conflict. He’s being like…super pay-attentioner (helllooo, nounjative). He’s trying to help me…which really just helps him…and us…so technically, he wins, regardless. Which means he has a vested interest in my learning.

Go team.

I’m also kind of afraid that my adult self is slightly assholeish. And selfish. And partly mean. Pushy. Doesn’t put up with any kind of crap. Impulsive. Slightly conceited?

Do I really want to let this BGJ out? Like, out, out? THE OUT? Almost like coming out of the closet…except I’m going to pop out from behind this bedazzled shield (And yes. I’m currently fascinated with the word “bedazzled” and will continue to use it in all it’s shiny, blinged out glory).

With a cape.

I’m sure the BGJ has lots of nice attributes, too…but I’m pretty sure she’s so tired of being complacent and being the nice person and CONFORMING that all she wants to do is jump out and start yelling in people’s faces. For no apparent reason other than, what the hell? She can.

I mean, I’m going to just DO IT. To say what I feel. To feel the emotions as they come at me instead of filtering them through the shield, where I get a watered down version of the *real thing.”

If I don’t, I will literally go crazy. The feeling I have inside…it’s like a pressure buildup and at some point, there is no way I’ll be able to hold it in anymore and I’ll blow a ginormous gasket and go crazy. Like, the white room and padded walls crazy. Crazy where you take pills from a Dixie cup and sit on a grassy knoll with your phone-a-friend during visiting hours. Crazy like groupies sitting in circles talking about their problems whilst twirling their hair or staring at the ceiling, counting the heffalumps congregating on the window sill.