Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Feel free to stop right here...

I have been in a really bad mood lately. Disgruntled, snippy, short-tempered. I am chalking it up to the fact that, due to computer issues, I have been unable to write. All of those crazy thoughts that bang around in my head have had no escape. I could have taken the pen and paper approach, but I am part writer, more editor, and significantly more perfectionist. So cutting, pasting, deleting and rewriting on a computer with no scratching out, erasing or other unseemliness appeal to me. The very idea of writing my thoughts on paper with just one hand; well, it doesn't even seem like a possible outlet for the chaos upstairs. Sometimes my hands move so fast on the keyboard I don't even know what they're typing, until I put my editor hat on and shred it. I think that is part of the therapy.

I was so excited to be able to write. So many things have been ready to burst out of my skull, that now I can't even pick just one. Therefore, I am just going to vent and hope this disjointed diatribe of dysfunctionality lifts my spirit and unburdens my mind and soul.

This has really been weighing on me. Stephanie Meyer. Is there a class action lawsuit against this woman for jacking up the ideals of the next generation? Teens and tweens alike are destined for disappointment when they realize that love like Bella and Edward's doesn't exist in reality. Soulmates and perfect love and sparkling in the sunlight. Ugh. I am not sure who I feel worse for: the girls, doomed to constant disappointment or the boys, measured against a fictional character, in comparison to whom they will always pale. Figuratively, anyway. That Edward's a pasty fellow.

And it's not just kids. When I listen to Chloe ramble on about it, I start getting pissed at Brad. For what? Because he's not a vampire? Because he doesn't stay awake at night and stare at me while I sleep? That would creep me out. I am very extremely independent and the thought of someone being that wrapped up in me makes my throat start to close. As it is, I find him (Brad, but I guess Edward too) a little too needy, and all he (Brad, not Edward) really wants is for me to make eye contact once in awhile.

Course, the reason I don't make eye contact lately, is because sometimes my eyes give too much away. My birthday is coming up. No, I don't care about getting older. It's just that my birthday brings all sorts of unpleasant dates along with it. Dead brother's birthday, friend's death anniversary, brother's death anniversary, and now, gulp, in February, it will be one year since my dad died. Not too sure how that flew by, I guess in a haze of tears, and cheers, and anti-depressants. However it went by, it did. One day at a time.

All this sadness intermingled with mine and Chloe's birthdays. And I don't want to talk about it anymore. I mean I do, but I don't. Seems futile. How many times can you cry about the same stuff? Unfortunately, there are a couple people, I'm looking at you, Sue Mizik, who have this amazing knack of seeing more than I intend to reveal in my eyes, and calling me on it. Brad sees it too, but he's a top-notch sweeper-under-the-rugger, so he usually doesn't comment. And that's fine. Because Sue Mizik will. Then she'll provide a proper therapeutic intervention, complete with home brews.

And in the midst of all this, all I can do is pray. Pray that God will wake me up in the morning. Some days, I pray that he will drag me out of bed and stand me on my feet or pick me up and carry me down the stairs, depending on the day. I pray that useless as I feel some days, God will use me for His purposes, not mine. And lately, I pray He will take away this resentment and bitterness that I carry around like a holstered weapon and pull out all too frequently. For good.

I didn't realize how much resentment and bitterness I had until my sister gave me a book, Battlefield of the Mind. In fact, I didn't realize I'd met Joyce Meyer, but if I haven't, how on earth could she have spoken directly to me? How could she tell my stories and see inside to those dark parts of my psyche that I would be ashamed even to share with my best friend? Well, my best friend knows about them, but she's pretty unique.

But, it's a new day, a new year, and a chance for new beginnings. I didn't make any resolutions this year because they just backfire and turn into a reason to beat myself up, and I all ready do plenty of that. So I am trying to do more stuff that is good for me and less that is bad. Love my husband, kids, family, family, friends and everybody else better each day. Get closer to God. And forgive myself when I fall short. Because I always fall short. Those kind of sound like resolutions, but they're not. I guess they're more like revelations. I have heard you have those around milestone birthdays. Oh wait...it's not that birthday yet.

3 comments:

  1. You are such a good writer..."disjointed diatribe of dysfunctionality"...that was an awesome string of words.

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  2. Thanks, Mel. I am humbled by your words. I think you are an incredible writer

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