Thursday, October 16, 2014


Sometimes, I am just sad.  It does not mean I am unhappy about my life, it does not mean that
something terrible has happened or that I am suffering from major depression.  I am simply just sad.  After years of analyzing this and being sad about things that you are rightfully sad about, I can only see this sporadic sadness as a mini breakdown of my emotions.   Ninety-nine percent of the time I am positive about things in my life.   I know that the bills will eventually be taken care of.  I understand the little stress causing factors in my life and I acknowledge them and handle them.  Outwardly, it looks like I'm standing strong and facing the little obstacles and flavors life hands me.  Inwardly, I think things over.  I analyze and work through scenarios to find the best course of action.  I worry about things that haven't happened and I worry about things might happen.  I also self-berate and criticize my appearance, my conversations, my actions and my unanswered dreams.   Inside is where my weakness lives and demands to be released but that strong outer shell keeps it at bay.  
You can only be strong to a certain extent.  Those things you keep trapped inside need to be let out once in a while or it boils over and causes all sorts of havoc.  A counselor once told me that as I sat in her office sobbing about the thousands of thoughts and life factors that made me want to simply give up.  She told me I needed to let it out so I could stay strong.  Give myself a day to just be weak, the world would not end if I admitted that I cannot handle all that its handing me without freaking out a little.  
With that little tidbit of knowledge I know its okay on the mornings that I awaken less than thrilled about life.   Its my stress emotions slipping out and making a grand escape.  I am allowed to feel this way.   I do not have to stay strong every single day, every single minute.  I can show weakness once in a while and not feel guilty for needing someone to comfort me instead of the other way around. Its not selfish to want someone to give to me what I always give to them… a shoulder to cry on, an ear for me to vent to, a moment where someone is being thoughtful of my needs and desires without expecting anything in return.  
The problem is…  I am sad all by myself.  Things still need to be done, others still need to be cared for, and someone else is sad and needs comfort.  I feel melancholy by myself.  I shed a few tears when no one is watching, and I wage war deep inside.

Tomorrow…   tomorrow I will be strong again and no one will be the wiser.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

They're Just Boys

I picked the boys up from the sitter, a wonderful girl who had nothing better to do over the summer so she happily agreed to watch over the kids for a mere four hours a day.  They usually had a good time while hanging out with Jenna, but even I knew it couldn't last.  Today,  Eldest was crying because they didn't go play in the creek; apparently this was most tragic thing that could happen to an eight year old.  He said I had gotten there too fast and needed to come back.   Eight year olds really don't have any concept of time or responsibilities of having a job.  He was less than understanding when I told  him I needed to return to work.
Youngest was angry because he got yelled at for being a hindrance while Jenna was trying to clean up the house. He wanted to go to the creek too and felt it was "stupid" to clean the house.   Jenna look relieved to see me there.
I understand. When they get an idea in their heads it's difficult to sway them from their goal,  they think they are invincible and pay no heed to warnings given to protect them from harm.  If you don't set boundaries they run rampant and they live in the moment, with no consideration for the consequences of their actions.   Every moment spent with them is a teaching moment and there are times you wonder if it is you teaching them or them teaching you.  They will test you, look for your weaknesses and they will exploit them at every chance.  
They are children, after all, and we are the adults who are secretly envious of their ability to throw caution to the wind.

Youngest is right.  Cleaning house is stupid.  

Thursday, June 19, 2014

The Dream

There it was, hidden in an email from one of my very best friends. The one thing I had failed at that I regret  almost daily.
My friend was sharing news of the success of one of our former classmates but rather than make me excited, I was filled with a burning jealousy.  This former classmate, younger than me, had set out and achieved the dream that I was still just talking about achieving.
When it comes to reasons why I have not pursued this passion in my life, I have a million of them:  I am good enough , I have to live some life and get experience before I can sit down and write about it and my all time favorite…  I was too busy raising my son and paying the bills.
I'm now in my mid-forties.  I've written stories for newspapers and countless beginnings of stories that still swirl in my head.  I've had plenty of adventures and experiences to fill hundreds of pages, and my son is almost 20 years old and attending college in another state.   The excuses I can come up with today are just as implausible as the ones I've made my mantra.
This is my own fault.
Its time to stop reading the published works of others and feeling as if I can never write as well.
Its time to stop using work and family as an excuse for me not sitting down and pouring out the words that long to escape.
Its time to prioritize my duties, my hobbies and guilty pleasures.
Its okay to "ignore" everyone around me for a few hours each day and concentrate on my dream.

Its time for me to start writing