The Total Femme

Every once in a while, don’t you just want to whine? I mean, whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine! Like the most unhappy, tired, grumpy, have-to-pee, hungry, angry, frustrated, denied, ignored, befuddled, emotionally depleted, no-fucks-given toddler who’s been dragged on way too many adult errands all day?

Adult errands. I mean, honestly, how fucking deadly can you get?

That’s how I’ve been feeling just about every day lately. And lucky Tex got to hear me whine, a wee bit. Ok, a lot!

I don’t waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaana!

Everything combinded, as my boys used to say, is dragging me down. From the wide world to the closer world to the very most personal world, the responsibilities have piled up to such an extent that I am about to suffocate. Or implode. Or some damn thing.

Waaaaaaaaaaaah!

Every time I want to eat, I have to stop and figure out how much insulin I should take, then wait 15 minutes, and then I’ve probably calculated wrong, so I go low or high and then have to deal with that.

Every phone call I get might be bad news.

Every time I peek at the headlines, well, I don’t have to tell you.

And yet I step up, and step up, and step up, because of course I do. And I know you do, too.

But doesn’t it just make a femme body tired? Don’t you just want to let out the biggest, queerest, loudest, most heartfelt whine of all times?

Yeah, me too.

This morning I hauled my whiny butt out the door and to the farmers market. A very grumpy man was playing the accordion – it was excellent. The guy who sold me Swiss chard threw in a few wilty stalks for free cuz I was just planning on coming home and cooking it. I don’t mind a little wilt; shows character. I splurged and bought a bouquet of sunflowers, gorgeous tawny, stripy, cheerful faces, one strain of which is called Strawberry Blonde, the flower seller told me. As I was walking away, getting ready to head home, on to the next thing, let’s go, let’s go, better check your texts etc., don’t you have a list, etc., isn’t there shit you need to do, etc., a bee flew down and landed on one of the sunflowers.

I had to stop. I had to just slow the fuck down. The bee had shit to do. It was an absolutely beautiful bee, with a spot on either side of its abdomen and busy, busy gathering legs, important pollen, strawberry blonde pollen, lifegiving, rich and dusty.

Really, was anything more important? No.

I slowed my damn roll. I watched and admired. I listened to the wind, the music, the people around me. The bee did its thing. The bee took the time it took. I waited for the bee.

Thank you, bee. Thank you, grumpy accordion man. Thank you, Strawberry Blonde sunflower, thank you, wilted chard.

My irridescent, shimmering, buzzing, flitting, stinging, gathering, busy, busy, busy femme sisters, are you feeling whiny? Are you feeling a great big dollop of responsibility fatigue? So much to do, so many things to correct, so very very large amounts of taking care of everything that needs to be taken care of. Have you just about had it?

Darlings, beloveds, sweet honeybunch adorables, wherever you are, find the bee. The catbird. The spider. The ant. Someone – anyone – who is running on ancient time. Lean in. Breathe. Let go and come back to your own ancient femme magic.

Oh, thank goodness, oh, thank goddess, oh thank you, thank you, bee!

Many a Monday I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

Do you have a meditation to share? I would love to welcome you here! Email me at: thetotalfemme@gmail.com