I have so much to say. Tons. And tons. I don't know if it's even worth trying to put down on paper (or whatever) it's so prolifically overwhelming.
I spent the better part of this morning in my underwear and t-shirt re-reading old This is Worthwhile posts. Like the one about Levi dying. And the ones about my dad dying and being an awful dad. And the one about me being curiously unhappy. And the one about me not wanting my marriage, but reinvesting in it anyway. And the ones about some boxes, my grandmother, my mom, my sister's wedding, plus-sized assessments, Hollis' birth story, and last but not least, the one about my the sex dreams.
And you know what I thought when I was forced to walk away from the computer and get dressed? I thought, "Damn."
Yep. That's it. Just DAMN. Nothing insightful or honest or even remotely understandable because I think right now my head is so far up my ass I couldn't see the forest through the trees or the goblins in the garden, or whatthefuckever that saying is, if it was a snake and it bit me. Did I get all those right?
Basically, I'm a hot mess.
A hot mess with an after-school special waiting to happen to her. Stick that in your hat and suck it. Or... whatever. I give up.
I'm realizing now more than ever that the thing I'm going to have to be most aware of and careful of is my decision making, or lack there of. In this particular instance it means not drinking too much and not using social media as a bedfellow. It means forcing myself to slow down, "enjoy" the process, and to not get too hyper about my new-found freedoms. It means blogging every goddamned day if I have to in order to get out what I need to in a productive, worthwhile manner with people whom I trust even though I know hardly any of you - but I'm like a Golden Retriever like that: pat me once and I'm your friend for life. No questions asked. Just keep patting.
I guess the other thing I thought about after I read all those depressing and intense posts is that, "Damn, I'm really depressing and intense!" I swear to God I'm actually, marginally funny in real life. You can ask the handful of real-lifers who read this blog. I just also happen to dive into the depths of my own psyche. A lot. Maybe too much?? I don't know.
You'll never hear me sully Anthony's name on this blog. I love that man, I do, it's just he also happens to be the wrong man for me and me the wrong woman for him. Not a comment on Anthony in the least, it just is. But it's also really hard to avoid the thought of, "Anthony doesn't want me," and therefore, "I am useless/not good enough/unworthy/wrong." You follow me? I don't think there's anything wrong with him for not wanting to be with me. I think there's something wrong with me that I can't figure out how to make this work. AND I think there's something wrong with me that I'm happier now than I have been in forever.
It's bad enough admitting that a relationship is over, but it's just outright self-harm to blame yourself for its demise. And then on top of that to be really, really happy right now, too? Oh my God. I'm dizzy just writing it. How can I possibly house all these conflicting thoughts and emotions in one body?
I think this is why I went back and re-read all those posts. I've been meeting people lately that I know read my blog and I'm curious as to what I look like to them. I'm not the most scrupulous editor when it comes to this space, yet I am still intensely private... in an open way. Do I come across as bat-shit crazy? thoughtful? loving? funny? sad? weird? self-absorbed?
I've recently met someone by random happenstance who reminds me that there are really cool fucking people out there and that I happen to be one of them, too (at least according to this fine friend I am). Despite the fact that I'm an utter failure at this marriage and I'm on the verge of being a complete idiot most of the time, this friend of mine assures me that it's those very things that make me the great woman, mother, and friend that I am. How nice is that?? No really. How very fucking nice is that??
I'm so all over the place with this. I feel like I should put a disclaimer at the top of my blog apologizing for (what potentially could be) months of this bullshit. Months! I shudder to think of it. But I'll just say "sorry" now in advance, because I am. I'm really sorry that there will be a theme to my posts about my sanity and me striving for it, because honestly there's nothing more intensely boring (to me, anyway) than someone ranting on and on about their search for meaning. I mean, just go find it already!
Wow. Ok. This might possibly be one of the weirdest posts I've ever written. In any case, thank you, friends. All of you. New and old, real and virtual. Your words heard and read mean the world to me right now, so thank you. I also promise to not wallow in all my weird, intense posts anymore. There's just no good in that. Maybe I'll update my "Lighter Fare" section in the mean time...
[By the way, I may take this post down later.]