The Mirror Has Many Faces
I was just cruisin' through a few blogs ... reading what folks had to say about New Year celebrations, retrospectives or just whatever is going on in their lives at the moment and something occurred to me. Now, in this case when I use the word 'occurred' it is actually code for: fell outta the sky, bounced off my head and smacked me in the mouth before falling into my lap for inspection ... then the angels sang .... waauuuhhh...
What am I yammering on about, you might ask? Well, I was over at Mommy Is In The Bathroom and she had posted a song. A song with lyrics that (to her) summed up her relationship with her blog. It was The Fray - You Found Me. Poignant. I cried. (FYI ... I am hormonal as hell and crying seems par for this course ... so consider yourself warned) But it got me to thinking ...
I believe many of us walk around with masks on ... or possibly bags over our heads. I mean, there is a face for work (in my case it is an executioner's mask with a clown's face painted on it), the face for the grocery store (in my case, it's an executioner's mask with a big ol' yella happy face painted on it), the face for the kids (in my case, it is a big open seething wound ... with an executioner's mask painted on it) ... and the face that my husband gets to see (in my case, sadly ... it's mostly the executioner ... the crank ... the emotional abyss ... the angry, stressed out and lost woman who used to be so driven and fun ... and funny ... not to mention the adult he loved most in this world ... not that he doesn't still ... if he didn't, I'm sure I'd be bound, in the root cellar with a dirty gym sock balled up and duct taped in my mouth).
We pretend ... until we feel safe ... and then all the pent up ... everything ... comes gushing out. Sometimes it erupts, like a volcano. Sometimes it simply rises, overflows and ebbs ... but there are times when it oozes. Personally, I think this is the most dangerous. It is black and sticky ... like tar ... and will seal off anything it catches, from the light of day. It'll sneak up on you ... or your friendships ... or relationships with family ... or worse yet, your spouse and offspring. It masks itself as indifference or a coping mechanism. You go along, thinking you are doing okay ... under the circumstances ... until you look around and see the poisoned carcasses strewn about behind you.
This past year, my career has tripped over its shoelaces and fallen face first into a curb ... with dog poop on it ... and old bubblegum ... and hork... all three of which are still stuck in my hair. I haven't been trying. I haven't given a tiny rat's ass about Narci's company ... not that it is up to me to care, necessarily (I mean, he only seems to when he can whip me with it). But, here's the thing: There are a few lessons that my Mama taught me, that actually stuck. One of them was 'if a job is worth doing, it is worth doing well'. That's some sage advise right there. This is the job I have. One of 'em, anyway. It is time to piss or git off the pot. It really isn't about 'him'.
The same can be said for my family unit. They are it for me. Everything in the world that truly matters ... and I'm fuckin' up. Maybe not "BIG TIME" fuckin' up (yet) ... but this is not the mother and wife I know I can be ... have even been in the not so distant past. If I did no other job well in my entire existence, this would be the one that counts the most. There will not be a do-over for me here.
***Last night, after a very quiet New Year's Eve (and a few drinky-poos) my hubs and I had sex ... ON A THURSDAY NIGHT!!!! I could not tell you the last time that happened. How very, very sad is that? I don't want to be 'once-a-week'ers. I mean, I know that kids and schedules and blah blah blah all play a part ... but there is no real excuse other than we let them get in the way. D'is shit needs to change!***
So, I asked myself a few questions recently. Why, Bambi? Why you cry? Why you so sad and mad and sad some more? I spend an inordinate amount of time beating myself up. I am self deprecating and mean. If I was my own mother, I would kick my bully ass to the principal's office for expulsion. I feel weak, and alone (and yet surprisingly smothered) and like a big fat failure ... in every role I portray. I have managed to bury myself ... my essence.
I really don't want to do this anymore. I don't know how to fix it, though. There are physical changes that must be made. For starters, I need to find my way back to healthy. That is going to mean dedicating at least 4 time slots per week for meaningful exercise. I have a treadmill... I have resistance bands ... I have yoga, pilate, and cardio tapes & DVD's galore ... cripes - I have RICHARD FREAKIN' SIMMONS! I know how to eat, I know how to live in a healthier manner ... so ... uh ... why the hell don't I?? I found a book/internet download by a guy named Jon Gabriel. Now, here's a guy who makes some sense to me. If you are unaware of him, you can check him out on the internet. (No, I am not endorsing him for compensation) This makes sense to me. I am terrified to go on another diet. Every single time I do, I wind up gaining not only what I lost, but another 20% more back. Jon spends a whole lot of time on things like emotional triggers and stress (or more to the point, how to release it in such a way that it stops poisoning your body).
Wanna know something that is both funny and sad at the same time??? I have had this for a few months ... and have yet to put a single suggestion into practice... the hell?
Okay, so the moral(s) to my very long winded story here would be as follows: it is painfully obvious this will not come easy for me ... so we are about to see a feat of sheer unmittgated, unbridled, stubborn will... and you guys are gonna help me ... oh yes you are ... are too ...
Please?
Like it or not, you guys 'n' gals are a life line of sorts for me. A place where my masks are much less often utilized. It is from you, a group of ultimate strangers that I will usurp my will power ... why, you ask? Well, because it is you (as a group) that are privvy to my mask-less self. I realize nobody asked for (nor likely wants) this kind of responsibility ... but that is just too damned bad. You don't have to do anything except what y'all have bin doing so far ... just be my brain spew recepticle. Das all. So that's it. K?
I hope your Friday/New Year's Day is going just the way you had hoped - or possibly even better. I feel better now, having shared this. I didn't even cry - look at me go.
I believe many of us walk around with masks on ... or possibly bags over our heads. I mean, there is a face for work (in my case it is an executioner's mask with a clown's face painted on it), the face for the grocery store (in my case, it's an executioner's mask with a big ol' yella happy face painted on it), the face for the kids (in my case, it is a big open seething wound ... with an executioner's mask painted on it) ... and the face that my husband gets to see (in my case, sadly ... it's mostly the executioner ... the crank ... the emotional abyss ... the angry, stressed out and lost woman who used to be so driven and fun ... and funny ... not to mention the adult he loved most in this world ... not that he doesn't still ... if he didn't, I'm sure I'd be bound, in the root cellar with a dirty gym sock balled up and duct taped in my mouth).
We pretend ... until we feel safe ... and then all the pent up ... everything ... comes gushing out. Sometimes it erupts, like a volcano. Sometimes it simply rises, overflows and ebbs ... but there are times when it oozes. Personally, I think this is the most dangerous. It is black and sticky ... like tar ... and will seal off anything it catches, from the light of day. It'll sneak up on you ... or your friendships ... or relationships with family ... or worse yet, your spouse and offspring. It masks itself as indifference or a coping mechanism. You go along, thinking you are doing okay ... under the circumstances ... until you look around and see the poisoned carcasses strewn about behind you.
This past year, my career has tripped over its shoelaces and fallen face first into a curb ... with dog poop on it ... and old bubblegum ... and hork... all three of which are still stuck in my hair. I haven't been trying. I haven't given a tiny rat's ass about Narci's company ... not that it is up to me to care, necessarily (I mean, he only seems to when he can whip me with it). But, here's the thing: There are a few lessons that my Mama taught me, that actually stuck. One of them was 'if a job is worth doing, it is worth doing well'. That's some sage advise right there. This is the job I have. One of 'em, anyway. It is time to piss or git off the pot. It really isn't about 'him'.
The same can be said for my family unit. They are it for me. Everything in the world that truly matters ... and I'm fuckin' up. Maybe not "BIG TIME" fuckin' up (yet) ... but this is not the mother and wife I know I can be ... have even been in the not so distant past. If I did no other job well in my entire existence, this would be the one that counts the most. There will not be a do-over for me here.
***Last night, after a very quiet New Year's Eve (and a few drinky-poos) my hubs and I had sex ... ON A THURSDAY NIGHT!!!! I could not tell you the last time that happened. How very, very sad is that? I don't want to be 'once-a-week'ers. I mean, I know that kids and schedules and blah blah blah all play a part ... but there is no real excuse other than we let them get in the way. D'is shit needs to change!***
So, I asked myself a few questions recently. Why, Bambi? Why you cry? Why you so sad and mad and sad some more? I spend an inordinate amount of time beating myself up. I am self deprecating and mean. If I was my own mother, I would kick my bully ass to the principal's office for expulsion. I feel weak, and alone (and yet surprisingly smothered) and like a big fat failure ... in every role I portray. I have managed to bury myself ... my essence.
I really don't want to do this anymore. I don't know how to fix it, though. There are physical changes that must be made. For starters, I need to find my way back to healthy. That is going to mean dedicating at least 4 time slots per week for meaningful exercise. I have a treadmill... I have resistance bands ... I have yoga, pilate, and cardio tapes & DVD's galore ... cripes - I have RICHARD FREAKIN' SIMMONS! I know how to eat, I know how to live in a healthier manner ... so ... uh ... why the hell don't I?? I found a book/internet download by a guy named Jon Gabriel. Now, here's a guy who makes some sense to me. If you are unaware of him, you can check him out on the internet. (No, I am not endorsing him for compensation) This makes sense to me. I am terrified to go on another diet. Every single time I do, I wind up gaining not only what I lost, but another 20% more back. Jon spends a whole lot of time on things like emotional triggers and stress (or more to the point, how to release it in such a way that it stops poisoning your body).
Wanna know something that is both funny and sad at the same time??? I have had this for a few months ... and have yet to put a single suggestion into practice... the hell?
Okay, so the moral(s) to my very long winded story here would be as follows: it is painfully obvious this will not come easy for me ... so we are about to see a feat of sheer unmittgated, unbridled, stubborn will... and you guys are gonna help me ... oh yes you are ... are too ...
Please?
Like it or not, you guys 'n' gals are a life line of sorts for me. A place where my masks are much less often utilized. It is from you, a group of ultimate strangers that I will usurp my will power ... why, you ask? Well, because it is you (as a group) that are privvy to my mask-less self. I realize nobody asked for (nor likely wants) this kind of responsibility ... but that is just too damned bad. You don't have to do anything except what y'all have bin doing so far ... just be my brain spew recepticle. Das all. So that's it. K?
I hope your Friday/New Year's Day is going just the way you had hoped - or possibly even better. I feel better now, having shared this. I didn't even cry - look at me go.
Comments
As for the other stuff...none of us looks back and says wow, I did that great! There is always the would of, could of, should ofs...just resolve to do the best you can at that moment. Because that moment is all we really have to work with. And your mother's advice? Same advice my daddy always gave. Same advice I qoute damn near daily to my family. =]
♥Spot
I concur with Spot. We don't look back on stuff in a good light.
There is no one standing there patting us on the back and telling us we are doing a great job as Mothers & Wives.
We don't get gold stars, and we definitely don't do our best everyday - because we are human. We don't come with instruction manuals (nor do the kids..Dammit I have LOOKED for that book) So we do the best with what we have, and try not to loose ourselves in the process.
That being said...I'm all in! I got yer back, and let me be the first to tell you that I think you are one of the wittiest, and refreshingly honest women I have had the pleasure of meeting.
Let me be the first one to give you a big gold star, cause dammit I think you are one kick ass woman! One that I am proud to call my friend.