I am a mom, a wife, & an often disgruntled lab tech. I write, knit, crochet, cook, & just try to make it. My writing blog is wordsontheceiling.tumblr.com if you'd like to check it out. Thanks for hanging out in my head space! ~D
Upon further reflection, I realized that part of that post from Sunday left room for speculation regarding my past. Yes, I was intentionally somewhat vague, as I do value my privacy. (I know that’s a little contradictory with writing a blog, so just shut up over there.)
I’m sure most of y’all just assumed I was running the bar scene, or that I was just being young and stupid, but wouldn’t it be more interesting if I had an earlier life doing something really far out…. like contract killing, or perhaps international art smuggling, for instance?
Not saying that I did or that I didn’t, but it would make for a hell of a story, wouldn’t it? You know, a girl has to get her writing inspiration from somewhere. And didn’t someone say that the best way to lie was to tell the whole truth, especially if it’s too weird to be believed?
For us Americans, it’s Labor Day today, a holiday dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. For me, it’s yet another day to work my ass off for free at home. Anybody bored? I’ve got a ton of ironing and dusting. Jeez, the little kiddos need to get big enough so I can more effectively delegate. The oldest is not home enough for me to properly work her to death. Ha.
Really, I’m happy to have another day to work down the never ending to-do list. Usually I’m going back to work right now and there’s a crap-ton of stuff I didn’t get finished over the weekend. Maybe the extra day will make me less crazy. Doubt it, though.
Evisceration is not for the faint of heart. Neither is menstruation. Yesterday took me to my knees at times, gritting my teeth against waves of pain and nausea. I’ve birthed one child without pain meds and passed five kidney stones: I’m actually pretty good at handling pain. But I’m getting real tired of your shit, uterus.
I promise I’m not as cranky as I sound. Or maybe I am. Oh well. Still happy to not be at work. Maybe I’ll make some cookies later.
Back in my late teens, I can remember driving along a country back road that ran almost exactly north-south, just at the right time of evening where the entire sky on one side of me was gloriously orange and pink, and the sky on opposite side was perfectly clear navy, stars gently popping out as if Bob Ross himself was painting them in.
Even at a completely self-absorbed eighteen years of age, I knew that was a cool moment. I slowed the car down and opened the windows, smelling the fields around me and listening to the bugs sing in the grasses. I knew this imagery would mean something someday.
At the time, I thought it was connected to my being on the precipice of adulthood. Maybe it was. But I really don’t think that now. Now that drive is the first image I think of when I feel like my skin doesn’t fit right.
The last decade of my life has been radically different from the one before it. I was living one kind of life, and then….then I wasn’t. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever meant to change course.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that my husband and I belong together. But there are days I feel like we are a retelling of The Adjustment Bureau, that each of us had a whole other future plan laid out and we were too stubborn to accept it.
Some days I feel like I don’t fit into this story. I love my children and my husband with my whole heart, but I wonder if I’m wired the right way.
I don’t want that other life. It was hollow and dirty and shallow. It wasn’t what my high school test scores said I was destined for. And on a physical note, by now my lungs and liver would’ve probably given up. Hell, the lungs aren’t doing great right now, and I haven’t had a cigarette since 2003.
The point is, I love my life. I love my kids. I love my husband. I am ever thankful, because most of the time, I feel like I don’t deserve it. The problem comes in when I also feel like I don’t belong. And it’s not about feeling inferior. I feel pretty damn awesome, actually. I just feel…….different.
There is a middle ground here somewhere. Some place between the debauchery of where I was versus Ann Taylor Loft. At 36, it’s about damn time I find my place.
This was really hard for me. I stared at this message in my ask box for days.
I wondered if I even have five things l like about myself. That’s kind of sad, right? Kind of highlights how I don’t really have a great self image, even if I project what I’ve been told is a strange brand of cranky arrogance at times.
But with all of my time in the shrink’s chair over the last couple of decades, I know that this is more than a fun way to interact on the interwebz. It’s actually a useful exercise. Because if you can’t love yourself…. Well, y’all know how it goes. So anyway, here it is:
1. I’m a resourceful cook. (Note I did not say “good cook”.) I can usually scrape the cabinets and the fridge and come up with something fairly decent and creative, regardless of grocery levels in the house.
2. I have cool eyes. They’re one of my few physical traits I really like. I think they’re an awesome color.
3. I’m funny. Not stand up comedian funny, but more dry and sarcastic. At least I think I have my moments.
4. I’m creative. I’d be happiest if the world would leave me alone to write and make things. Most of the time, I think the fruits of my creativity don’t suck, either.
5. I’m secretly very soft hearted and emotional. I used to think this was a bad thing, but I’m learning to embrace it a little at a time. I’m trying, at least.
So that’s that. It seriously took me a week to write this list. That worries me somehow. Maybe I should really work on that.
I won’t be sending this to anyone, either…. Not because I don’t like to play, but because I have a phobia about imposing. If anyone wants to post their own list, please consider yourself tagged and invited!!
Trouble 1’s fever finally broke yesterday morning, and she spent the day eating everything I would give her. Apparently the antibiotics are working well. By today, you can’t even tell she’s been sick. She’s the tough one, anyway. Has had the harder road physically, but she has a great spirit and attitude about it.
On the upside of being stuck in the house with a sick kiddo is clean laundry and a few other things done. At least I’m not as behind as I usually am on a Wednesday.
I need to really dig in and finish my fall purge/cleaning spree. I always feel the urge to do it this time of year rather than in the spring. Maybe it is preparing for the holidays, I don’t know. But I need to get it wrapped up so I can put out all the fall decorations. It’s almost time!!!
Are y’all over summer? We got spoiled here with a cooler than usual season and this last hot-as-balls blast is extremely unwelcome. It’s getting in the way of my “here comes fall” excitement.
I think of things all the time to post about and then the ideas just slide right out of my ears by the time I sit down to do it. I’m really much more entertaining, I promise. Thanks for hanging out and reading all of this mundane crap anyway.