I think I am heading down to crazy town and I am the one putting myself there. It’s ok, I’ve been there before, there is actually a suite named after me. It is just this feeling that I am about to come undone, that is very unsettling, especially to a control freak such as myself.
There is a lot going on in life. Not just my own, but in everyone’s. This is a marvelous world that we live in with endless possibilities. However, we all have seen the darker side of things, the times when things don’t seem to go right. We have all been there, some have had greater struggles than others, but we all get our turn in doo doo town.
I am residing in doo doo town currently, but I am trying very hard to ignore that fact. I enjoy my life. I approach everything with a sense of humor and I won’t let the “man” keep me down. I am luckier than most and I am fully aware of that. I am lucky that I still have my parents in my life and that they are awesome people, especially my Dad. I am lucky that I have been married to the same person for eleven years. I am no cake walk. Sure he is an ass, but he is my ass and I love him, even during the shitty times. I have beautiful, healthy children, that are smart and funny like their mom and good-looking like their dad. I have a job. Can’t say that I love it, can’t say that I hate it, but I have one and in these times, that is a major plus. Thanks to stress, I finally lost that ten pounds I’ve been struggling to lose since I stopped breastfeeding. These are all good things and I am grateful, but my mantra of “I am very blessed and this is just a bump in the road and it will get better” isn’t really cutting it anymore, only because I have been saying it for so long. I know that old saying that God doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but I am not sure why he has the impression that I can handle what is currently on my plate. I guess he is right in a way because I can handle it, but I am starting to crack from the pressure of dealing with things and trying to keep a happy face on at all times, because if mommy loses it, other people get very worried.
I know there is a lesson in here somewhere. I am patiently waiting for my Aha moment. I don’t want to say that things could always be worse, because the Man upstairs seems to take that as a challenge and show me what worse is. So I just keep going and laughing at the silly things that I find amusing. The combination of living in doo doo town but acting as though I live in an oceanfront hut in Tahiti is making me more coocoo than I usually am. I am starting to laugh at things that really aren’t funny and it sounds like a crazy person laugh. My husband gave me the look. The “holy crap it’s time to call the men in white coats” look at the dinner table. He has some pair of balls, by the way, because I believe he was conceived in a nuthut. Someone should tell him he shouldn’t mess with the person he sleeps next to.
The turning point will be this weekend, which I will spend at my parent’s house with my kids. I will either leave there feeling much better, comforted and at ease, or I will leave there in a straight jacket and an ambulance with my mother yelling “I told you so” running behind it. No one knows how to make you eat a shit sandwich like your mother! Wish me luck.