No, Debra.

Namastè!

I'd like to introduce you to a constant presence today, one I'm sure you already know. If not, get ready, for she's everywhere.

No, not Aunt Flo.

Debra.

Debra is the sum of all the aggravating, annoying, irritating, anxiety-triggering, anger-rousing moments in life. While she's not a person, many embody her traits, therefore I call them Debra as well.

Debra is not female. She is not male. She is not living. She is not dead. She is not real. She is not fake. She is not human or animal.

She's just an emergency word, something I say to cut back on those swears.

Now, *gasp* I cuss as I see fit. You're not gonna whoop me, so put your pearls down and get into this lesson I'm about to teach. Drink this wisdom. It's sweet!

I am fully aware that my children needn't have such a peppered vocabulary. I make a conscious effort to save my cuss bombs for moments when they are elsewhere. The problem is, they are rarely elsewhere,  and life rarely gives me a break from being aggravated and annoyed just because the kids are present. Doesn't work like that. Moms don't get a prissy pass.

That's how Debra was born in the first place. I really dig the name, and I knew if I chose a word or name I liked, I wouldn't bypass it for the more colorful alternatives.

I don't believe a person can develop a habit that they are unable to break. Breaking a ha it is as easy as first deciding it has to go. Devising a plan of action might take a bit of doing, but it's workable and possible.

Again, that's how Debra was born.

I'm not the kind of mom who sacrifices her expression for society's approval. Nor do I do it for social media likes and pats on the head.

No.

When I break or change a mode of expression, which is at its most rudimentary merely a habit, I do so for myself.

Debra exists because while it is hilarious, it isn't exactly ladylike to shout, "Oh *foghorn*!!!" in Target when some cruel being has purchased the last big box of goldfish.

You don't understand the importance of goldfish crackers in Castle Namastè, I'm sure of it. Otherwise you wouldn't be chuckling. You'd be on the phone with someone at Target's corporate office trying to help me ensure goldfish for Kids Namastè. Period. I don't even need freebies, I just need them to keep that dang shelves stocked.

Just handle that for me, Debra. Sheesh!

...see how that works? No need to cuss. Debra encompassed all the bad words I needed to express.

Now, it doesn't work all the time.

Nah.

But when my kids see me changing this habit, taking ownership of something within myself that I could reign in and alter a bit so I can be an even better Tayè?

They will have the courage to do the same. They will understand that they are in control of how awesome they become! They'll know they are strong and powerful enough to become whatever they want, that they can take anything about themselves and make it a positive.

Some would argue that my peppered tongue can't possibly be positive, and that I should just put away those words to be a more acceptable woman.

To those people, I say--go clean your bathroom mirror. Your toothpaste stains and soap scum are far more disparaging than my vocabulary. Show your children a positive, healthy relationship (NOT perfect, for those waiting to be offended). Show them something they can use to grow forth in life versus just going forth.

How is a dirty mirror worse than a word bomb?

Easy. That word bomb shows that I care enough to react. You don't even care enough to clean your living space, and I know the space is dirty because you take pics there. *chuckle*

Will I lose sleep or go all tangent-y because you don't like what I have to say?

No, Debra. Of course not.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡