Mama said there’d be days like this …

Fun morning here.  For starters, I answered the doorbell in my PJs, only to come face to face with the head of our Homeowners Association.  I had my FIRST delightful encounter with her the day we moved in.  Something about the rule book and timing and blah-blah-blah.  Couldn’t say exactly, as she was standing, uninvited, in my space, whacking me over the head with rules she hadn’t bothered to notify us about, so I tuned her out.  No biggie.  This morning’s surprise visit was about something equally inconsequential which she could have taken care of by looking with her eyes, so it was a non-moment.  But you know how things like that set a tone.

No connection with the homeowner person, but there are days when all you do is cry.  It doesn’t change anything, but it gets that stuff out there where you can look at it and try to figure out if it’s as scary as it seems, as hurtful as it feels, as huge as it looks.  And no matter what, if it feels like your heart is shattering it’s huge.   It’s been a long time since I’ve cried for myself, my own hurt feelings, my disappointments.  It’s the people I care desperately about who can break me down into little pieces and bring my day to a halt.  Family.  Friends.  The things that rock their world in a bad way shut mine down.  When somebody I love is hurting I want to either hole up and not see another human being, or dig my Superman cape out of the laundry and confront the world.  If I couldn’t vent on a daily basis to a lucky group of Facebook friends I’d probably be in jail.  They help fill up my “give a damn” bucket when it’s empty, and they can’t possibly know how vital a service that is.  Most of them I’ve never (yet) met in person, but just by getting it they heal me.  What a gift not to have to explain things.

So my husband, who really IS Superman, took me to lunch and we tried a new place and I ended up crying at the table while I was trying to tell him what was going on in my stupid heart.  Our waitress looked concerned, but I smiled at her later — “See?  I’m fine!” — and she won’t remember me next time we go there so who cares.  And Kim gets it, bless him.  I try not to tell him ALL the things — he has his own stuff to wrestle with — but he always knows when I’m getting out of sorts so it’s only fair to let him know he didn’t do anything to make that happen.  He makes the GOOD things happen and he saves my life all over again every day.

It’s starting to sound like the world will keep on turning, so I might get some music happening and work on the closet for a while.  And maybe tomorrow the sun will shine.

sad_021

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Tori Pike
    Jan 31, 2014 @ 12:06:21

    I appreciate that you share your moments of “real life”. Thank you for exposing your heart with your words and your wisdom. ❤ as always ~~

    Like

    Reply

Talk to me, I'm soooo lonely ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Winnowing the Chaff

rarasaur

frightfully wondrous things happen here.

FranklyWrite

Practice Writing

Social Justice For All

Working towards global equity and equality

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

john pavlovitz

Stuff That Needs To Be Said

Drifting Through

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind

KenRobert.com

Beautiful and Terrible Things

Margaret and Helen

Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting...

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

Musings of a Penpusher

A Taurean suffering from cacoethes scribendi - an incurable itch to write.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life

Miss Snarky Pants

A Humor Blog For Horrible People

mylenesmusings

Every other asshole shares their opinions, why shouldn’t I?

%d bloggers like this: