So, I'm gonna start with the crap first, as in this backward blog. This was a crappy crappy day, actually a crappy crappy week, with a ton of tears and a ton of emotions as if a truck rolled over me, but I think I already blogged about that steamroller.
The sign went up today and the tears came out today. I couldn't stop crying, and then I couldn't stop crying because there's nothing worth crying over. My children don't have cancer. There's nothing dreadful happening in my life. I am selfish and shouldn't be crying over this kind of stuff even though it can be gut-wrenching at times. But shouldn't I be able to give into this? I know you can say each person is allowed to feel what that person wants to feel or has to feel, but what right do I have to feel what I'm feeling when there are other people with legitimate sadness going on in their lives. What right do I have to FEEL SAD over this? What is really SAD in my life? Then I berate myself for feeling this way. I don't know. I'm certainly in a different place typing this than I was 10 hours ago, bent over 24 hangers as I cleaned out my bedroom closet trying to remember the Serenity prayer begging God simply for PEACE because that's all I wanted to feel, was PEACE, as I cried and cried and cried in that closet and tossed clothes and could name every event I wore each shirt to, as if I was throwing away complete memories of my life and not just pieces of clothing.
Because that's how I live my life. Piece by piece by piece, and now I'm throwing away pieces of my life that I'm not prepared to throw away and I just don't want to throw them away. I guess I'm not ready for THIS phase of my life to be over and for the next one to start but it's not for me to decide is it? I'm not the driver. I'm just along for the ride. OK, I'm getting waaaay melodramatic here and so I'll take it back a notch and talk about how we did have our first showing tonight and how ironically the neighbor's dog got out just before the showing, got in the backyards and got sprayed by a skunk, which must have been in OUR backyard so now our whole house STINKS like a fucking skunk. And of course, this is a mere 1/2 hour before the first official showing of our house. I say it was all planned so that no one will want our house. The smell is rancid.
Our realtor called me concerned and asked, "The realtor who showed your house called and said there was a smell."
Man, could this be the memoir I'm meant to write? I seriously mean, COME on, who plants a freaking SKUNK in the backyard RIGHT before you're going to sell your house to stop you from selling your house?
OK, I'm done with that.
Now, as for the backward blog, here's what I wrote on the plane back from Arizona, and I'm not even going to edit it, it's just what I wrote on the plane, courtesy of my friend Xanax, so here goes, and this was written on Monday, March 14, ooh, one month before I turn 41. Does that mean it's the opposite of my golden birthday?