I used to run away from home a lot - like once a month.

OK, so Eric would read that sentence and wonder what plane of existence I'm remembering. I never actually did something that looks remotely like running away.

Instead, I'd get mad, pack my bag, grab some snacks (always with the snacks), and would go stomping out of the house as fast and hard as my short stubby legs would carry me. My feet pounded the ground. I muttered to myself about how nobody ever listened, and Squid always got what they wanted, and if they wanted me to behave that way, I would. I'd come up with new behavior plans and decide that "that" was never happening to me again.

I'd pound and talk myself around that weird seed-shaped block until I was back at the driveway. Weary and annoyed, I'd stop at the bottom of the driveway, sigh, and begin the trudge up the hill and into the house where I could hide away in one of the trashy romances Mom kept in Squid's closet.

So, why do I write about the petulant kid version of me? Because that girl routinely got lost in always and never. I could take one event in my life and make it the most defining thing that ever happened to me. It would sustain a 20-minute stomp (what can I say? I've always been a that's too much energy kinda girl).

Occasionally, I'd have a whole series of events that I'd tell myself to prove that a given way was always how the world interacted with me. I could even add that every young girl can remember every time anyone told her no. Like most kids, I saw the world in a manner defined by absolutes. Always. Never. There was no in-between zone, ever.

I found my way to the sometimes between always and never when I started to tell myself more of the story.

OK, so I didn't jump straight there; but I did get tired of walking around the bloody block and bored of my own narrow story. I also found myself in spaces where the "universal" stories were being told, and I didn't hear mine. When does this "universal" story not happen? Why doesn't it happen? (Aka, why representation is important, but I digress.)

After decades of practice, I'm now highly leery of absolutes. I believe in highly unlikely way more than I do in never. Usually is my friend, always is just a way for someone to fail. Nothing is wholly bad. Nothing is entire​l​y good. Endeavors that don't' work out quite how I'd planned are not failures or stupid (OK, I still struggle with this a lot). And, just because relationships that end in a crappy way, doesn't mean that the entirety of the friendship was bogus or a waste of time or not worth it. Lessons can be found. Silver linings exist. If nothing else, it could have been worse.

There's more than just one color of paint available. Try another one.

So, tell your stories. Mix the good with the bad and the bad with the good. Be conscious of, if not careful with, your language.