Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Back Dated

I wrote this a several months ago when I was sort of in a blacked-out bottomless pit of limbo and an unstable continuance. I decided to post this because when I woke up this morning, I felt like there was sunshine and hope in my life. For the first time in a very, very long time. That is a good way to wake up. 

Mind you, the day continued and got all screwy, but it started out pretty great.

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This was originally titled "WTF is wrong with me."

That wasn't a question.

I have issues. Some of you are very aware of them.

For instance, if y'all were to call up Rawr on the old horn, she'd tell you that I'm sort of crazy, a little bit funny and mainly obsessive compulsive. At the time of this typing, Rawr was unavailable for comment. Mostly because I didn't ask her opinion. I just wrote that stuff. I honestly have no idea what she thinks of me.

Shenanigan is easier. Often times, she will tell me exactly what she thinks of me. I save all her texts because they make me feel good about myself. Really, who doesn't like looking through old messages and reading a kind word from friends? She writes stuff like, "It's been lonely without you here. Nothing compares to you. " Then again, that might be a song stuck in my head from another friend's Facebook post. Sometimes it'a hard to tell one media from another.

What the hell was I rambling on about?

Oh, right.

Issues.

Mine, in particular.

Today was a hard day. I have those sometimes. Usually, when I write about things that happen to me, I try and make it funny and hope for a laugh. But, there are days when I feel like I'm on the verge of coming apart at the seams. I don't talk about those days because they are infrequent, and can usually be squashed by some horrifically-funny thing one of my kids will do, or a friend dropping in to say hello and pulling me out of my funk.

I'm not crazy. I'm not dangerous and I would never hurt anyone (are those things that crazy, violent criminals say?).

But sometimes, life can be so full of worries and activities that It boils over. Feelings.

I am a mellow person. I am patient, I am a thinker. And kind of a push-over. I enjoy listening to people as a way of getting to know them. I ask questions, but most people will spill their guts (figuratively) to me without much coercion.

I'm not complaining of being burdened by anyone's troubles. Not at all. I'm happy to be there for any one of my friends when they need me. I wouldn't call myself a "fixer." I will offer advice if it is solicited. However, I don't generally push my opinion on anyone (see previous admission of being a pushover).

But being this type of person has an effect on me. I tend to squash my feelings. Pile them all up inside of me and ignore them. Every so often, I get full, so to speak. Things bubble up, so I will take a minute to clear out just enough space to put the lid back on.

This can go on for a bit, but if you're smart, you'll realize that eventually the hinges on that lid are going to wear out and then it's going to be pretty tough to keep all of that inside. Or, if the hinges manage to hold, maybe the stick used to smash everything down will break. Basically, you can't keep shoving things down inside of a hole and expect it to remain bottomless (I so, SO want to make an inappropriate joke here. But I won't. Because my Mom reads this).

The last few weeks, I've been noticing that my hinges are rusty.

Today, they broke.

I wish I had a super-funny, absolutely side-splitting story to share with you.

I have this:

I woke up this morning knowing that today was going to be one of Those Days. Where I felt kind of off, a little panicky.

Okay, cool, I told myself. Good thing Rawr is out of town and Elle is going to the zoo with her kids, Shenanigan is working, Mumsie lives two hours away and you have nothing planned. Why didn't you fill up the day with plans? You know how we get when we have free time. Free Time leads to thinking time and thinking time leads to Freak-out time. You over analyze and we all know how that goes.

Apparently, there are two of me in here. I never knew that until just now. Funny how things just come out when you write.

I tried to stave off the impending panic attack that I just knew was coming, and took my three kiddos to the library downtown. It's a brand-new library with an entire floor dedicated to kids. It even has stuff for them to play in/on/around. I am so happy that my kids have such a kickin' place to read books. Yeah, except they never read there. They just play. Which I suppose is pretty cool. My 9 and 5 were playing in the kitchen and they turned it into a restaurant reminisent of Hell's Kitchen, only it should have been names Hitler's Kitchen because I swear I saw my 9 bark an order to fill a plate for table thirty and then do that salute thing that I don't like to talk about because I feel that it brings bad luck.

I know she did it, too, because some little blonde haired, blue-eyed boy jumped up and grabbed the plate, then ran out of the kitchen and threw it at another kid (who happened to be dark-haired. I'm just saying).

We left. We went home. And later, I cried. Great big, huge gulping sobs. While I was sitting at the top of the stairs, folding laundry with my sister.

And she told me, "Life is hard."

Very simple. And so very true.
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