These bad feelings. Something went wrong last night. I was writing that post, it was written, then I was ashamed of it, it was not good enough, not good enough. I had expectations, before beginning, about my five-months post. I had this image of this new watch. I had this image of Time. I had this image of pristine objectives. I had an idea of “tips and tricks,” of truly helping others. But that was not what came out, and after writing it, I felt, this is not good enough. So I stared at it, and what it was, and what it was not, and then everything I wrote inside suddenly became untrue, i.e. nothing “good” was there, nothing “good” was coming, and I was certainly not fucking gorgeous, and I was a mess inside. And I thought this is terrible, I cannot publish this, but that seemed stupid, after writing it, and having made the Time to write it, and it felt egotistical not to put it out there in all its stupidity, and “maybe it could help someone in spite of itself” and all that, and come on, let’s get this blasted thing published, and meanwhile the fresh-baked freezer pizza has suddenly long gone cold, and the kids are having so much fun upstairs playing video games that they’ve forgotten to eat, just as I have, though I myself was not at all having fun, and now I was a neglectful mother on top of it, and had let all my screen-time-related ideals slide, and the celebratory cranberry-rosemary 0% near-beer that I’d bought to celebrate my five months has not been opened, and I am just staring at the not-good enough page, and dammit I did not even manage to decide on a watch, so there would be no pristine photo, and nothing was as it was supposed to be, I had not even succeeded in being on Time for that hike, nor even getting there, and it would have done us all so much good, so much good to be deep in nature with the trees, the deep jewel of the lake, and those good wholesome people; and instead I’d stupidly pulled over when that little light had come on, to see what was the matter, and then I couldn’t restart it again, for fuck’s sakes what an idiot I was, and me with my ultra good intentions of always being on Time again, like I once used to be back when I was trying to be perfect, and really in fact being quite perfect except that I seemed to need wine to fuel that perfection, and yet something wild was happening in me, I was staying a bit wild inside and something wild was growing up inside and that’s what I’d been getting at in that ramble yesterday, and if I’d hit publish then all would have been well, but I didn’t, because it wasn’t what the five-months’ post should look like in my mind’s eye, so I hated it, then I tried to re-write it the way it should look, and I failed at that, since I realized “should” shouldn’t exist and I knew it, and this was just my blog, my own dog-gone silly blog and it could look however it wanted to as long as it stayed on its intended path, but there were these two forces at war within me, one of self-acceptance and the other a devil which said I was not good enough, and finally I let the middle-most version go, the badminton net between the two of them, and then it felt fine, and then suddenly it didn’t feel fine, it was not fine, and I tore that thing down, and it had to be the first draft, yes that would be fine, because it was what had come out the first Time, and in Time, and so I reverted to that first draft, and then I felt not fine at all once again, because why did I care at all? it was stupid; and suddenly the kids had eaten of their own accord (quite merrily having enjoyed themselves, so it was not too bad), and I had put them to bed, and yet here I was still banging away in my mind and at my keyboard, and I just couldn’t win. And I hit publish again, and then went to bed, and listened to a bell recording from the monastery, which I’d hoped would bring quiet and comfort to my teeming useless mind, and it did, and I nearly fell asleep, but the next bell woke me up, and I untangled my head from the headphones and tried to go back to sleep, but instead lay awake, full of self-hatred and shame, over inconsequential things, but isn’t that life sometimes, and trying to accept it, but not accepting it. And then waking up this morning feeling so, much, shame. Though I had overdosed on words, not wine. And you know what, it was so, so good to feel that shame… and suddenly listen, really listen to my tired, overworked, illogical head saying things like “I just want to die,” and “I don’t want to live,” and I will tell you why it felt so good, when I examined those feelings which I would never act upon but that were there none the less… it was because it was exactly like I’d felt after a night of drinking. And I had not had that feeling so strongly, in over five months. And it was good to remember, really remember, how that felt.
So here I am rejoicing. In spite of my crazy self. Smiling through stupid tears…
sending love, if you ever feel this way… please know, it will be okay… I am actually crying right now, I know I have some kind of deep-roots problem, yes, and I don’t even know exactly why… but also, I know it will be okay, as long as I can keep going, day after day. And it will be the same for you. Fuck Time, fuck everything else. Just live this day. Something like that. Pick one little meme and stick with it. Then turn away, turn your head down, and inward, and be a sunflower inside.
Image courtesy of Pixabay via Pexels.com. Isn’t it beautiful, the sun is shining through the tree, making everything golden and bright from within