Folks, I need to be honest with you all. You may or may not have noticed that I'm discombobulated. My normal amount of what I like to call 'charming disfunction' has been replaced with 'please stay home, for the sake of the general public, and maybe I should remove the kitchen knives while I'm at it...', which is why I haven't been writing much as of late. I just don't feel funny. Well, I feel "funny", but not in a humorous way. Instead I have been feeling funny in a vaguely despondent, socially inadequate and aggressively hungry manner.
At first I thought that this change was just a new and overtaxed part of my awesome 'mommy' persona, or maybe just allergies. But then I realized that there has been a fairly large number of stessors in my life that are out of the ordinary. Of course, I just realized this on Tuesday (because I'm brilliant like that). I won't get into the details of what is happening, but I will say that I now am in full-on insomniac-by-night/zombie-by-day mode. To combat the sum of all of my newly acquired depressing events, I have been using my logical and trademark coping mechanisms; I have been buying shoes and attempting to eat my weight in cheese. I love the new shoes, but the cheese thing is not working out so well for me.
Since I'm being totally honest, it's not just cheese that I have been eating; it's all dairy products. Considering that I typically rarely eat dairy because it gives me hives, I have upped my consumption of it by approximately.... 200%. Also, I like sugar. A lot. I'm apparently just eating all of my feelings. Yay me. It's almost time to crawl under the covers with a copy of Wally Lamb's "She's Come Undone" and a pint of ice cream.
But now that I have started the process of dislodging my head from my nether-regions and emotionally vomiting all over a couple of patient friends, I am almost fully prepared to handle my feelings all by myself. Because I'm a big girl.
That's not true. I'm totally not ready to deal with anything, which is exactly why there is a nasty layer of schmegma along the toe kick of my kitchen cabinets, but I am forcing myself to buck up, because now is the time and the time is now. I need to stop wallowing in the dirty waters of chocolate and reality TV and forge ahead into the frightening territory of mission statements and salad.
Math is hard!
I talked to my friend today and she said, "Don't let your pain be the excuse to give fear authority over you." I told her that she sounded like Wayne Dyer and then we mutually amended it with, "or....eating your weight in dairy may or may not insulate you from the pain."
Therefore, good people, I do declare that the time has come for me to start writing my book.
In conclusion, I have no fucking idea what the focus of my book will be, but I vow to make it happen. If for no one else but the 177 people that "follow" me on Google friend connect. And also because I need to get brutally honest with myself about what the bleepity bleep I am doing with my life. And I need to FOCUS and I will Persevere!
Do you like these shoes? I just got them.
Honestly? Me too. I also braided my hair like Katniss today because it makes me feel powerful. Later, I will put on my Back Off sleeping mask that was gifted to me by my friend, The Cotton Floozy, and blindly shoot arrows from Thing 1's bow at the ceiling fan. It will be the highlight of my month.
While I am talking about honesty, I "came clean" to Brock the other night. It went like this:
Me: Hey, I need to be honest with you about something.
Me: I purposely dug through your drawer this morning.
Brock, who took a long pause with a deer-in-the-headlights expression: And what did you find?
Me: Those super thick black athletic socks of yours. I'm wearing them right now. I'm also planning on wearing them to bed because I'm cold.
What did you THINK I found?
Brock: Dammit, I thought I maybe hid money in there and forgot about it.
Wish me luck.
Peace, Love and Unicorns,