Fine.

I start this post knowing nothing of the topic I will write about.  What I do know is that I’m feeling really strung out and vulnerable, and it’s been a really hard week.

I am at the point in my life where I am ready to pull a Thoreau and hole up in a cabin (perhaps with Facebook, of course) in the means of hiding from this very cruel, cruel world.  Ok, it’s not that bad and I don’t live in Sierra Leone and all I have are “luxury” problems (God, I couldn’t hate that invalidating phrase more), but I’m starting to be scared by the general lack of compassion in the world.  At least, this is my perception.  But after seeing friends and others rapid-fire judge someone over a comment made online, without asking about it in person or simply inquiring about it, I want to hide.  When I see people judge others about being “lazy” because they are having difficulty paying off their student loans or need to receive public assistance, I want to crawl away into a hole.  What would they think of me?  I wonder.  I needed heat assistance one winter.  I start to think I’m too emotional or “nice” for this world.  And I have trouble trusting people.

When I first get to know someone, I worry they will think I’m too much.  That I’m too much to handle, that I’m too emotional, that I’m too needy, that I’m too ANYTHING.  I’m sure I’ve written about this ad nauseum.  Kinda correlates with my eating disorder.  Am I too big?  Do I take up too much space?  Do I express myself too much?  Do I annoy you?

Ugh, so fucking unattractive, insecurity is.

And yet, somehow, I know my self-disclosure about this human-ness is what motivates you to read this.  How intimate and uniting vulnerability can be.

Being afraid of taking up too much space is the main reason I’ve never been a talker in group settings.  Someone else needs this time, I think, or I have nothing of worth to add to this, or it’s really hard to talk in a male-dominated group.  (I hate that I still have that one.  I do.)  But mainly, I’m afraid that they’ll all laugh at me because what I’m saying is absolutely inane.  That the secret will be out – I’m secretly stupid and soul-less.  I don’t trust those around me in the same way I’ve had a hard time trusting my body to do its job.  (If I eat extra, will my body ever recoup?  Will that perceived inch that I gained on my waist go away?  Will I be desireable again?)

The repetitious diet, the control over what the public sees of me – it all gets threatened when LIFE comes into play.  Over the past week, we buried John’s grandmother, whom he was very close to.  And the funeral was on the same day as my dad’s death anniversary.  There was no room for anything.  Anything.  It was suffocating, really.   And there was more food around, and less time for self-care.  That stuff throws me, as wussy as it sounds.  I tend to box my emotions away and becomes a less life-like version of myself.  And it’s left me feeling like I’m in a daze that I can’t get out of.

I need hugs.  Hugs and love and care and people reaching out, but I tend to sabotage that before it even materializes.

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’ll be alright.”  I’m good.  I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.

Everything is not fine.  I have too many student loans and credit card debt and my credit score slipped a bit over the past month and I couldn’t stop crying Monday.  My father has been dead for a year.  I am the epitome of the anti-Mom, disliking anything domestic, and fear that I actually don’t give a shit about my child because of this.  I have a career where some people get mad and verbally attack me on a daily basis.  I’m also not that great at personal relationships, and would much rather be wrapped on the couch with cake and my laptop as opposed to chatting with a friend.  Every day I try not to drink and try to eat enough.  I am constantly running, trying to get things done, and I disconnect when the going gets tough.  I am disconnected right now.  I feel as if I have 45 plates spinning on top of 45 individual stilts, and it’s my job to keep them all simultaneously spinning.

Everything is not fine.  It’s not awful, but it’s not fine.  And I just thought you all should know that.

One thought on “Fine.

  1. I think its important to remind us all the sometimes life is just a shitty fucking bitch and its not all rainbows and butterflies and unicorns.

    Just sayin.
    Maybe tomorrow will be fine.
    I am also a shitty disconnected mom right now.

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