pity party. admit one.

i am doing my damnedest to find the silver lining, but all i see are clouds.

it started at 4:30 when i woke up from a nightmare about url renewal. for my blog. apparently i have to pay for that now. and i already pay monthly for a blog where i rarely write anything, and when i do only 3 or 4 people read it so what’s the point? and there was once this idea about being a writer. and what was that anyway? a calling? a gift? some wish to be immortal because my words might survive me?

so i do what any rational individual who is in the beginnings of a funk would do. i get on facebook. where i am reminded that i am nobody’s best friend. at best, i am 6th or 7th on pretty much anybody’s list. and i wonder what it would be like, just once, to be introduced as someone’s best friend. and the thing is, i have more intentional, more vulnerable relationships now than i ever have. but still, i am always somewhere down the line. why is that? what is wrong with me?

and i have these amazing kids.  most of the last 21 years of my life has been about growing them up. and i have never resented that or thought that anything was more important. and i am good with the fact that they are growing up, and i feel like i have done as much as i could to release them and speed them on their way. but sometimes, i wish my words counted for more in their lives. and i wonder what it is that i have really taught them anyway.

and it seems like so many people are counting on me for something, and sometimes i feel like i am letting all of them down. and i think i would like to run away. for a while. to some place where nobody needs anything and i can’t mess anything up and for a minute i would be enough. whatever that means.

i spend my morning cleaning up the kitchen. again. i look at the crumbs under the kitchen table and the dust on the furniture. i clean poop out of the bathtub and pee out of the rug and i wonder whose life this is i am living.

i broadcast my gloom to everyone. i write a tweet. i rewrite it. i look at it. i feel like i am in middle school. i think of rants that all of my children have had on facebook at one point or another, and about the fact that sometimes i was the object of the rant and how i wondered what they were after when they wrote it. and i wonder what i am after. do i want someone to validate me? do i want them to be sorry for me?

mostly, i think, i want to know that i am not invisible.

maybe that’s what they wanted too.

so i vomit all these words onto a page because that’s the only thing i know to do with them. and i send them out into the world because, after all, i am paying a pretty penny for that prerogative. and probably tomorrow, when i am sane, if i am sane, i will wish i could somehow get them back.

but it will be too late.

and maybe that’s just as well.