Excuse me, Brain? Can I have that one back with the caramel waterfall and the awesome party?

Here I am. There you all are. It’s just barely Saturday and already I wish my weekend was over. Wish that I could still sleep through my weekends. They are lonely and boring and filled with nonsense unless I have my kids here. Then they are silly and filled with whimsy and fun.

This utter lack of a social life is really getting to me. I feel like I am beating my head against a wall- back in middle school, with my small group of close friends who all have lives that involve doing things other than sitting with me when I feel like a loser. I HATE my brain. It’s utterly ridiculous, irrational, completely overrun with stupid emotions that I don’t like and more than anything, it’s broken.

The part of my mind that comes out when I sleep is the best. I dream beautiful, intricate, insanely euphoric movies of which I am the star. The most talented cinematographer and screenwriter may barely scrape the surface of what I see when I sleep. When I am asleep I see myself as I wish to be. Strong. Beautiful. Powerful. Filled with hope and supernatural abilities.

The other night I dreamed that I was doing every thing I have ever done in my life that has brought me pleasure, virtually simultaneously. Freud would probably have quite the field day with me.  I think what struck me the most, that is, what I miss the most about that dream, was that feeling like I was loved and a part of everything and everyone around me. And I could fly. That is always a part of my best dreams. Flying.

Sometimes in my flying dreams I have wings, sometimes a hang glider type apparatus, and sometimes, the best of times, it’s just me and the sky soaring upon high. Through the clouds and over the world I travel, landing here and there and being filled with such a feeling of wonder and peace, serenity and acceptance. It’s a feeling so elusive that I often wake up crying because I miss it so.

(This is not at all what I came on here to talk about.)

At any rate, lately has been a…synonym for struggle that is a much stronger word. Like in that book where is says we must “smash the delusion”- my life is like a giant tornado of shit covering everything in foul and disgusting funk.

Now I am exaggerating a lot.

I just don’t know what to do with myself. The to do list is never ending and ever growing. Yet working on it seems like an exercise in utter futility. Like trying to talk to someone who really doesn’t want to talk to you but they don’t want to be rude because, like you, they are a people pleaser. I prefer frank honesty to bullshit banter.

And maybe I am talking/thinking about someone or a particular situation or maybe I wish my To Do list would crumble itself up and bounce off of my head as it puts itself in the trash because it knows, as much as I do, that even if I do everything I am supposed to, and everything I should, life will still be completely fucked up.

Once upon a time I thought I would have a fulfilling life. From where I stand- well, sit, at the moment- I see a vast desert. Depression is a real asshole.

Nights like these I wish I had a nice warm body next to me, so that when I lay down a strong arm would wrap around me and lips would kiss the top of my head. A comforting voice would say, “I love you.” and I would drift off, with hope for tomorrow.

I have none of that. In my mind I pretend I know who that warm body belongs to, but I know about as much as what’s good for me as the average person knows how to successfully build and launch a rocket into space.

There’s a quiet part of my brain, it reminds me of a little card I was once given as a gift; it contained the following text:

        “…acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.
        “Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake….unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, pg 417, 4th Edition)

From what I have experienced, this is true. If I can find a way to let go of all of the nonsensical bs that constantly inundates my thoughts and just tow the line, smile, and help another person, I will feel better. Overall, the cosmic chain reaction from that is a positive one, and eventually things fall into place. Unfortunately I am impatient, selfish and self-centered. Each of these defects are parts of me that I work to lessen, however on nights like tonight, when I engage in exercises in futility and spend entirely too much thought and energy trying to get what I want- and ultimately fail miserably- I wish that I could just let it go. Permanently. Let the fantasy and (however warm, fuzzy and comforting) memories of times past go.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *

All I can feel is the warmth of your arms and the scent of your skin. We are alone on the planet for just a moment. I feel safe and comfort unlike any I had for many years.

Back in the real world, sitting here alone, for whatever reason, despite vague and insincere flirtation, I can tell that to you  I am practically invisible, or worse- an annoyance. I don’t know for sure why. I have an idea, but without a conversation I can not confirm. And since my desire for conversation (or any of the fun other stuff I pretend will happen) it’s apparently not going to happen. Le sigh.

In this very moment, however, I would love a surprise visit, a simple explanation that doesn’t make me feel like a loser, and more than anything? Your arm around me as we lay next to one another. Silence is ok, but some sort of random existential discussion (or one about our ‘Happily Ever After’) would work for me.

Am I sounding pathetic? That is surely not my intention. I simply wished to share what a moment in my brain before I fall into sweet, sweet sleep is like.

    …

NOTE: I seem to have dozed off for a bit there. When I woke up I hit publish instead of draft so now this bad boy is out there on the interwebs for ever and ever and ever, amen. Whoopsie! Folks, that is why you don’t blog when you’re half asleep. It is  like drunk dialing without the awfully awkward calls and texts from every person you either told off or that you love the next day.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read. I shall now cut open the beautiful pineapple that awaits my knife. Since I’m awake again. And hungry. And trying really hard not to eat ice cream.

 

My shot at altering the space/time continuum has been towed.

My shot at altering the space/time continuum has been towed.

 

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Whatever happened to the day of rest?

Ahhh, picture it. Waking up when your body says, “I’m done sleeping”, having a leisurely cup of coffee while gazing blankly out the window. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining. Spending the day enjoying hobbies or other leisurely activities.

WE’LL HAVE NONE OF THAT NONSENSE HERE.

Thought I’d share with you my itinerary for the next couple hours.

2:40pm-5pm: Clean, organize, launder, fold, put away, vacuum, mop, repeat until return of children.
5-?: Make and serve dinner to two incredibly hyper children. Clean up dinner. Carry children to bathroom for bath as they fight to escape. Run water. Chase and (hopefully) catch 3 yr old, returning her to bathroom. Convince her to take clothes off (normally she is refusing to put clothes on). Wrestle (literal, actual physical exertion) clothes off 21 month old. Help her on and off potty 17 times. Retrieve naked 3 yr old from hiding place. Retrieve naked 21 month old from hiding place. Figure out how the heck to keep the stupid ear plugs in the ears and not in the hair.
Put kids in the tub. Lather while 21 month old screams and tries to climb out of tub while 3 yr old plays mermaid. Rinse little one while convincing other one why she needs soap. Take little one out and roll in towel like burrito. Finish washing and rinsing now crying 3 yr old because she wasn’t first. Dry, lotion and pajamafy both. Carry them, one in each arm back to bathroom to brush teeth while explaining (as I do twice every day ) why we brush at least twice a day. Put little one in crib. Begin desperate search for pacifier. Find it. Wash it. Insert it. She’s out. Find 3 yr old back on the computer doing her kids learning games. Carry her back up to bed. Play musical beds. After 2 hours give up and go downstairs. Sit down, wipe sweat from brow, and find you have been joined by 3 yr old.
Get self ready for bed. Drag self into it. Find 3 yr old already in it, taking up all the space. Lay on floor. Sleep.

(Crap now I’m 16 minutes behind schedule)

How do you spend your Sundays?

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