Wondering…can you write something to cheer yourself up?
I need some cheering up today. It’s been an up and down week for me. I know it’s nothing new but I keep expecting it to be. Eternal optimism is a double edged sword.
I’m listening to some great music. I have wine. I actually took a break and watched an entire movie this afternoon. I did no laundry and had a good laugh with my sister.
I’ve done all the right things. I am feeling a bit better.
So, “Yes “, to my original question.
It wasn’t so bad at first. I could cope with the gum smacking and the loud voice. Well, actually that is a lie. Nice, I’ve started out my maudlin plea with a lie. I hate this person…how’s that for the truth? I’ll start out again.
Six months ago it began. It wasn’t so bad at first. A little loud and talked a lot, but as time went on more annoying and downright obnoxious behavior surfaced. A flippant attitude to the kids, talking with mouth full, sweats stuffed into slippers, loud personal calls, gossiping and on and on and on.
All of this only three feet from my desk. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes and sigh half the day.
How is a quiet, polite, professional, anxiety ridden bipolar II woman supposed to handle this day in and day out? Seven hours a day! I am either a zombie or a nervous wreck by the time I get home.
My doctor thinks the combination of this person and my friend dying has been too much on my poor little brain and it’s buckling under the added stress. Unnecessary anxiety attacks.
I’m tired of persevering. I don’t know whether I deserve it or not, but I just want a little peace of mind.
I began to delete my old text messages because I still have all of them since purchasing my phone in 2012. Does everyone do that? Keep their text messages forever?
My daughter, Emily, sent me a few photos and a text message from an Obama Rally she was attending in 2012.
A conversation ensued:
Me: I can’t believe how close you got. Too bad it wasn’t Bono.
Emily: I know I kept thinking that! They played a lot of U2 at the rally.
Me: Do you know that Bono is in the iPhone’s spell checker?
Emily: Yes, just realized that and it’s awesome! I think he deserves it.
Me: Thanks for putting up with me and all of my Bono references so enthusiastically.
This is pretty much the way I live my life, between Bono references.
I walked into the dingy laundromat last week to get our comforter washed. Dingy is how I would describe every laundromat I have ever been in.
The music playing was nice, something Caribbean, merengue maybe? As I scanned the room for the counter I wondered casually what everyone’s story was. Why don’t they own a washer and dryer? I don’t judge. There was a time when I was a young mother using the laundromat.
As I got to the desk, there was a young guy who asked me how he could help. I gave him my comforter and waited as he wrote out the ticket. We chatted about the weather, the fact that it was Friday, etc. He took my money and I left.
As I walked through all the machines I reflected how much my life had changed. I had my own washer and dryer now. I had arrived.
I went through the doors to my car. As I reached for my keys I noticed the music was still playing. I felt for my phone. The merengue music had been blasting from my purse all along.
Oh, yes, I had arrived alright. To where I’m not sure.
I was cleaning the inside of the microwave this afternoon and a thought crossed my mind.
How would my life have been different if I had known what was wrong with me earlier? Gone to college? Not had kids at 20? Not made every wrong choice that could have possibly been made by a woman in the beginning of her adult life?
It’s sad to think of it this way. I really don’t have very many regrets in my life, but this defiantly fits in that category.
I’m trying to see it in a more positive light. What would I be like today if I hadn’t had such a difficult time? Would I be boring (worse than death)? Would I be unkind or whinier than I already am?
I don’t know. I do have a lot of decades ahead of me at this point. I hope I can find out “what would’ve been” by doing it now.
“Cute Cat” video giggles, the best sound to come from my 11-year-old all year.
Pretty average day today.
My new “Four Day Diet” book arrived in the mail. I started to read it, then skimmed through the fluff and got right down to the diet menus. I was typing out a shopping list, but couldn’t read the computer with my reading glasses on and couldn’t read the book without the readers! Tried to wear them halfway down my nose, but then I couldn’t breath. Taking them on and off again was pulling my hair. It took me at least half an hour longer to do this task than it should have (similar to telling this story).
Allison is sick today so I kept her company by watching “Pretty Little Liars” with her. Not that watching it wasn’t bad enough, she kept pausing the show every few minutes to explain the characters and plot to me.
Went to the grocery store and put three yogurts into a strange man’s basket even though he was saying, “Excuse, me. Excuse, me!”
I finally looked up and saw it was not my husband after all, just a doppelganger (bet you don’t know the last time you’ve used that term).
Got home, unloaded the car and dropped a jar of Ragu in the driveway.
Yeah, that’s about it.
My son, unfortunately, falls into the category of being “unintuitive”. He is sensitive, but things have to be pointed out to him. There is nothing wrong with it as long as the female in his life doesn’t mind either.
When my friend died last week it hit me pretty hard. After visiting her and her family that day I came home and holed up in my room with some wine and my phone. I was feeling a little sorry for myself because Emily and my sister Ellen weren’t there. They are always there for me, but they weren’t physically there and I really could have used them. I told Emily on the phone that I really needed a hug.
I didn’t realize until I heard a text buzz that Tristan was charging his phone in my room. I instinctively looked over and read that it was from Emily. She wrote “go in and give mom a hug, she really needs one”.
Just then, Tristan came in and got his phone. I wondered how long it would take him to come back after reading his texts.
Ten minutes went by when Tristan knocked. He came in and sat in bed with me. He asked me to tell him what happened that day. I told him everything. He held my hand and then gave me a hug.
I hope I’ve always given them what they needed the way they just gave me what I needed.
I used to be a great dancer on the floors of 3.2 clubs back in the 80’s. Oh, yeah, I had the moves. I was all decked out in the slouch boots, mini dress with a hip belt. Looking like a Madonna knock off. I had the mile high bangs and bangles. Good times.
I don’t know what I would now days if a good song came on and I felt like dancing. I’m not even talking about in front of someone; I mean alone. Just me, the house and my headphones. The best I can do is walk across the house to the “beat” while I’m cleaning. Pathetic.
What if I wanted to go to a concert? What would I do? Stand there and just clap? Are you going to a concert you ask? Well, no, but if I was…. I love to worry about things that aren’t happening. I do have to be prepared for every situation you see.
So if I did have tickets to a concert to… I don’t know, to someone like…oooh I don’t know…Adam Lambert? Do I go on YouTube and look for a how to dance video? Yes, I do. The only problem is they are all for young women. While I do feel young at heart I don’t think the rest of the world sees me quite in the same light.
I need to figure out how to move in a mature but not “mature” manner . God, that last sentence made me sound old.
I’ve got it! Can I just do the old sway with a lighter move? Do you think that will that pass as dancing?
A few months back I had written “A Little Taste of Crazy” where the campus monitor and I were searching the grassy knoll behind the school for Allison’s phone.
If I wasn’t then I am now officially a “helicopter parent”.
This time Allison lost her violin. We went down to the orchestra room to look for it. We checked among all of the other violins. Allison saw it, but I said it wasn’t the hers because it didn’t have the correct tags.
The violin was rented and would cost me $340 to replace, so I was highly motivated to find it. I started out asking people as they passed by my desk and in the hallways. That then escalated to sending out a school wide email. This went on for two days.
Finally I called the rental place and asked for the serial numbers thinking another student may have taken the wrong violin. I went down to the cupboard again in the orchestra room. This is the part you’re going to love…it was there all the time!!! I felt terrible and apologized profusely to Allison.
I had to slink around the school avoiding the inevitable question, “Have you found Allison’s violin yet?” I would try to wiggle out of the question as best as I could with anemic answers such as, “Yes, thanks.” and if they asked where, I would tell most of the truth saying, “in the music room’s cupboard.”
Then I realized what I had been doing. The “absence” of detail on my part was letting them assume it was Allison’s fault!
I’m going to hell.
P.S. In good conscience I did start to elaborate as much as necessary saying something like, “It was there all along, I didn’t see it. I don’t want to talk about it”.
P.S.S. Still going to hell.
anincidentallife.com 
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