The Total Femme

Aren’t there days when you just feel like you’re not gunna? I mean, where you’re up against this responsibility and that responsibility and this email and that text and something you forgot, something you’ve been meaning to do, someone who wants something, a promise you made but that keeps getting put on the back burner, the vacuuming undone, the greens you bought a week ago waving limply at you every time you open the fridge, you know, things like that, and you keep saying stubbornly, “I’m not gunna.”

It’s not that you aren’t a responsible person. It’s not that you don’t get the job done when the job needs to be done. It’s just that sometimes you need a little moment of fiery fuck you. Of giving it all the finger for just a few fine moments. Or to be a little less potty-mouthed, to turn some of that responsibility-taking-care-of energy in on yourself, to give yourself a sweet surrounding of respite. There’s so much damn stuff out there (and in here) that we actually can’t manage, that is unmanageable, at least by one sole femme, no matter how determined, no matter how principled, no matter how hard working. For me, that stuff can pile onto the stuff I do have control over and topple me but good. If I don’t give myself the medicine of a few not gunnas on a regular basis, that is.

I might not gunna cook today.

Not gunna call my mom.

Not gunna do the laundry.

Those aren’t all that hard, since we’ve got leftovers; I saw my mom yesterday and she’s doing great and is benefiting from time for herself getting used to the new facility she’s in; and I still have clean clothes.

Harder are things like I’m not gunna fret about all that I can’t change, from near and from far; I’m not gunna lose myself in a book when I’ve got a writing deadline coming up; I’m not gunna give myself a hard time about all those other not gunnas…

My magical and marvelous femme sisters, let us try today to not gunna the cold pricklies that can sometimes swarm us.

Today, let our not gunnas be generative, warmfuzzy and comforting, rejuvinating and restful.

Let us allow ourselves some not gunnas that contribute, in the end, to all the wonderful gunnas that we have ever and always inside.

Every 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. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three or four times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, Femme Friday on Friday, and (new for spring 22!) the occasional Sometimes On A. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”) And…as I go through life life life, I will post as I am able, Mabel.