Dagmar Tully

When I was 12 someone called me an airhead (I laugh too much
and too loud when nervous) and it affected me. I spent years trying to prove I was intelligent. Then I got a clue, I am not as smart as I thought. There is nothing extraordinary about me making me better than any other human. No glowing light coming out of my ass hole that makes me brilliant, or deep. Life got a little easier when I realized this.

I was raised by a single mother that was beyond paint the kitchen red crazy and it shapes everything I am. I truly hate that, but have to accept it is just things work out. You work with what you got.

I am homesick a lot for a place that hasn't been my home since I was 13...I think about it every day. It makes me feel nostalgic and weepy, like a little bit me is never really me because I am not there. Who knew that a place could be so much of who you really are.

I love my kids. They piss me off more than anything in this world, but I figure when you love someone so much is is like an open nerve, that they will have that effect on you.

When I was a child I thought that when you became a grown up, that all insecurities fell away. You would suddenly feel it, a sense of wisdom, of knowing the answers. Well, I am still waiting.

So being they bi-product of a glue eating, mouth foaming crazy mother, I am pathologically passive (resenting it the whole way), neurotically homesick, somewhat dim. not very deep. eternally clumsy and awkward, wife, and mother.

And I am still waiting to feel like an all knowing grown up.