Making Excuses

Someone recently said (on FaceSpace, of course) "If it's important to you, you will do it. Otherwise, you will make excuses."

I snorted and walked away. But somehow, this phrase came along for the ride. It's been rattling around in the back of my head like a toddler who got out of his seat belt while going down a country road at 60 miles an hour and demanding attention. I finally sat down and stared it in the face like the mirror I found it to be, and asked myself 'what does this apply to?' and 'why is this hitting such a nerve?'.

I have decided that I am in a rut of creativity, and I have been making excuses about why I have not been finishing the things I have started. I cannot even count the number of knitting projects I have on needles right now; 2 have formed necklaces I am beading; countless stories started.... the list goes on.

I make excuses like: Oh! there's a new Yarn Harlot blog entry I need to read!  There's failblog posts I haven't seen yet! There's a game I haven't played....... books I haven't read....... tv shows from 2002 I can watch for free now........ Squirrel! Shiney thing! Must see all the internetz!

I digress. See what I mean?

So, I am limiting my time on SpaceBook, and failblog and trying to spend more time focusing the things that are important, like my kids, and the laundry, and my 'creative outlets'.

Wish m luck! I will (try) to keep you posted.

February 7

Another day dawns gray and cold. I smile and hug my loved ones goodbye, impatient for them to be gone so I can stop pretending. They don't deserve a wife and mother who is incapable of loving them, so I do my best to smile and hug ("don't over-act, they'll see through that!" shouts my inner director) and encourage them to "have a great day!"

My husband, bless him, knows I am not doing well right now, but he doesn't press, just looks at me with worried eyes. I have nothing to say to alleviate those worries other than the cliche "it's not you, it's me" which he has heard about a billion times before, so I don't say anything. Just smile and say good bye. He has his own worries right now, and I know my 'issues' right now are simply adding to his stress. I cannot turn off my bi-bolar with a switch because my having an 'episode' right now is inconvenient, and poor timing for him.

If I could, I would shut it off, and never look back. I think he knows that. I know he doesn't really understand, but he does love me and tries to, which is clearly more than I have earned at this point in the day.

what I really feel

Self-loathing so deep and intense it may as well be an entire autonomous creature that I am trying to carry around, nonchalantly, hoping no one will notice the piggy backing beast. It whispers in my ear, breathing its putrid filth like slime on my flesh.

I know in an intellectual way that this is not real; not truly who and what I am; not how I really feel about my life and myself and my surroundings. 

Sometimes this disease is harder to live with than others. 

I know that “this too shall pass”…. But it’s getting harder to deal with while it’s here. Especially knowing that even if… no when!! it passes, it will just be coming back. Like the slap bet with no limits. I spend my life waiting for the next slap; trying to dodge the next slap; anticipating the next slap; planning my day around my crutches for avoiding the next slap. Waiting for the next time this monster will be there, dripping its venom in my mind. 

The shame of it is almost overwhelming some days. Again, I know intellectually that there is no shame in having a disease, but I cannot help but see it as a flaw that must at all costs be hidden from the world. It is my burden alone to bear. No one should see it, this ugly troll baby I carry with me, that I haven’t the courage to drop in a dumpster where it belongs.

I struggle to even accept the honest affection offered by my mate. He has no idea that when he touches me and I cringe, it's not a reflection of how I feel about him, but how I feel about me. So I force myself to stand there and take what he offers out of kindness and love, hating myself for feeling like this, as I smile through the saw dust flavored tears in my mouth.