I want to write some story of ridiculous redemption or raunchy reflection or whatever I am suppose to write but all I can see right now is the boo hoo and the dark and the no. So much good has been happening around me but I can’t even write about it. Two weeks ago I got back on stage for the first time in four years and read a piece I wrote with a peppering of stand-up. I had a wonderful time. Great people performed, even better people came to support and I got face-raped by a stranger.
Then, my oldest and dearest friend from childhood came into town last Thursday and we spent eighteen laugh-filled, freak-frolicking hours together. It was magical. I felt safe and protected and light.
And all this time I actually thought I was fighting the decent fight. Although my entire household, including our aging, decrepit cat, was on the cusp of sickness I thought for sure it would all work out and the birds would keep chirping. But it didn’t happen that way. The writing got harder by the hour as each sentence felt like pounding nails into a metal wall. The days were painfully weighed down by anticipation and aggravation. And finally, that little bit of rain on the horizon came bursting through and the week slammed into Friday and it all fell apart. Our life, again, was a hailstorm of no, no thanks and not this time.
The world is filled with disappointment. That is part of life. I get it. It makes you stronger and teaches you lessons and helps you grow into the person you are suppose to be. Thank you, Oprah for that quick trip down bumper sticker lane. I know all of that shit. Please add these bright, blithering gems of wit and wisdom to the list. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and… it all happens for a reason. I promise to put those in my bummer box along side shit happens, life sucks and then you die and finally, my husband’s favorite, more meat for the butcher.
But I am tired. Not sleepy tired but life force tired. I am like a cheerleader left in the rain after a big game with only one bobby sock and a wet pair of pom-poms. I have no ride home, no change of clothes and no idea how to get up off my soaking wet skirt and start over again. Sure, the little claymation, red head always sang, “Put One Foot In Front Of The Other” but someone stole my shoes and punched me in the knee and I don’t have the slightest clue how to start my slow march toward yes.
How do you do it when it all feels pointless? How do you get up and brush off the bad and slip into the awesome? I know a lot of people do not like to comment. My comment section is a pain in the ass because it takes a few steps and you have to choose a name and go through Google. But please, if you have any words of wise or a funny anything or just a good old slap on the back, tell me. Be anonymous. Use a fake name. Yell at me to get it together and stop my sniveling. But please, I need to hear something other than the din of disappointment in my skull and Gwyneth Paltrow’s country wrong.
8 comments:
I wish I had the magic words to make you smile and feel light and happy and sunshiney inside, but if I can point out at least one silver lining- this is some of your best writing I've read to date. And I am quite familiar with the works of Dorothea Coehlo! You have a gift with words, and aside from being completely jealous of your ability to be funny, witty, poignant, sad and brutally honest in the space of a few sentences, you also have the best bod on the block. That would be any block you are standing on.
Keep writing. Keep moving. Keep loving. And keep laughing. You are really really good at all of it.
So sorry the big ol' mountain of life is feeling impossibly steep and treacherous and covered with crap. I'm not so good at dispensing advice, but I will give you a big hug next time I see you during school pick-up.
Yes, in many ways it is pointless - right? Why bother with the dishes when they get all dirty again? Otto's ass will need to be wiped again, and again and again. WHy bother writing when you just have to find a new verb again tomorrow? It is hard, and a long slog. Many, many days I am weighed down by the long, endless list.
But here is the thing sister.
Motherhood and marriage and life is not for pussies! You are not a pussy! You are a funny, talented, hot piece of ass.
Do not stop what you do. Even if you feel that taking care of Otto, writing and being a wife is small and insignifigant - it is not. It is huge, magical and what keeps the world humming along.
You get to "oh woe is me" for one more day. Then get over it. I frickin love you.
Because you are still rocking the 1999 brazillian body and I would wreck that ass...
I have a feeling that the things that are supposed to make me stronger are actually going to kill me. I do. Crappy "no" and defeat and frustration. Still, it actually doesn't matter. Because you, like me, cannot help but give it a go again. We continue to continue even when our asses are served to us. Otherwise we have to sit still and be quiet, and that's even worse than being denied.
So.
You will rock again. It's just what you do. I look forward to it with all my heart.
xoxo
You group of five just picked me up, dusted me off and sent me on my way with a dry skirt and a new pair of sneakers. Thanks ladies, for the huge virtual hug. Your blog love has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. Now, can one and all of you please come tonight for a drink? I am mixing up the special to show you how delicious I think you all are.
Thank you.
It really is sometimes (even often!) not worth asking why you're doing all this or what is the point because there isn't a point. It just is. I'm so sorry that life is hurting and that the pleasures seem to be so much smaller than the pain right now. Perhaps not even huge overwhelming pain -- just the grind of the pain that makes the sky not quite blue and your sleep not restful and the looks between the two of you trying just a little too hard to be brave and cheerful while you work so hard not to lash out at the nearest target.
So what do you do now? You know all the tried-and-true paths to calm yourself, and in a few hours or days you'll be able to pull it together to try one or several of them. In the meantime the two biggest reasons to hang on and keep trying are there with you in that beautiful unit you have created and nurtured. Sometimes we just keep on because that's what we living creatures get to do, and then a pretty flower or a sweet sticky hug will get in the way of the pain for a second or a minute and off you go again.
Love and hugs from your not very coherent M.
I don't care about the day to day of mommy stress, kids colds, carpool traffic or kindergarten politics. Yet, I love your blog. You have not written in weeks. Your fans demand an entry, even if it is some crap I could never relate to.
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