I love those words. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I love them because I’m a Southern girl. Southern woman. I was born in the South and will likely die in the South… Unless, of course, I find out I’m a long lost relative of a Duke in England somewhere and I’ve been named in a will to inherit a country manor house, then I’m outta here. But until that happens, I’m here in the South. It’s my home. It’s a part of me. And I’m proud to be a Southerner.

As a whole, we’ve taken a lot of shit over the years and a lot of it is rightly deserved (Yes, we Southerners do study the history of the South. A lot). We’ve taken a lot of shit most recently for what happened in 2016 and again, a lot is rightly deserved. And I have to be honest here and say that for the first time in my life, I was embarrassed as a Southerner. (This isn’t a political post, I promise)

Over the weekend, I spent some time in Alabama. I drove from Charlotte to a small town outside Birmingham. I listened to Miranda Lambert’s new album Wildcard MULTIPLE TIMES. Like ON REPEAT. I love it. It’s wonderful. She’s found herself again and come through the heartache to the other side and it’s brilliant. I visited family and family friends who have a big home in the country with woods all around. We laughed and we talked and I’m the only liberal among us all. I was also the youngest, which was kind of a strange feeling since I’ve been in a mental place of thinking and acting like I’m so very old. I haven’t hit 50 yet, but something has been going on inside me that m age has freaked me out. But…one of the days I was there, I was sitting outside looking at nature, and it hit me that for a while now, I’ve been trying to be someone and something that I’m not…as a person and as a writer. I’ve been trying to distance myself from myself. That’s never a good thing.

I’m tired of all the anger and the hate and the discord. It’s draining. It’s stressful. It’s not productive. You can be passionate about something, about someone, about a cause, about change and we should be, we need to be, but there are ways to go about it that don’t require anger and hate and just…ugh!

While I was away, I unplugged from social media except to post about Kyle Busch winning the 2019 Nascar Championship and posting a couple of pictures on my Instagram. I didn’t check email. I did start a new story that came to me as I was driving up to Birmingham. But that bit of unplugging, that bit of distancing myself from the You need to, You should, You have to, mentality helped clear my head some.

I’m a person who says Y’all, who calls people dude and bubba, who drinks coke with peanuts, who boils peanuts, who has a twang and a Southern accent, who has studied the South and the Civil War, who did not vote for Trump in 2016, but who still loves her grandma and friends who did, and who does not go to church but believes in magic and that the universe has my back. I’m in love with the Blue Ridge Mountains and cabins in the woods and am someone who knows this region of the country with its sweet tea and fried chicken and Friday night fish fries and where college football is a religion and where Nascar was born.

But I was trying to be someone else and I was trying to write stories as someone else. I was trying to write for everyone else, for their expectations. I wasn’t trying to write to the market or jump on trends because I just don’t shift that fast, but… I lost my fuckin’ way, y’all… In various ways, but definitely in this one.

I have a little sign that sits on top of my monitor that says “There’s Nothing In The Whole Wide World Like A Southern Girl” and that’s a true statement. Take it from me, a Southern girl. I need to stop trying to be someone else, someone that I can’t seem to connect with.

There are lightning bolts and thunder cracks that wake us up sometimes, and then there are the quiet whispers that unless you turn it all off and tune it all out, you’ll never hear them. I had needed the weekend away. I had needed to see my mom and my grandma. I had needed to spend some time with only myself, and alone in a car for 6.5 hours was as good a way as any to do that, to let my creative mind wander, to sing along to songs so much that my voice started to go.

My outlook has been different since I’ve been back home. It’s been more optimistic and brighter and it’s been more tuned into ME and not so much the outside noise.

Just getting outside the buzzing and humming and yammering… It’s a wonder the things that will be revealed…

Lissa