November 17, 2019: Part 2
I'm feeling a lot of anxiety today. Not sure exactly what the cause is right now. Kara went and met with Tie, and after an initial heartbreaking start, it seems they were able to make it to the end with a promise to both do better. A hug and they were on their way. I have no idea if that will help at all, but I am hopeful that it will at least calm the anxiety that has been storming inside of my love.
Then why am I still feeling anxious? Partly because I'm hoping Katie and her family are ok. Partly because I don't know how things will be the next time I see her in passing at WOU. Partly because I don't know how she will react to seeing Kara at work. Partly because I haven't heart from Patrick as to whether I should go ahead and cook meals for Katie and her family today, or wait until later. So, now I am just sitting on my couch reading. Wasting time. That's what this feels like... just wasting time. Kara is napping, Trayshun is in trouble after breaking trust, and I am just sitting here wasting time. I have work I could do, but my mind is jumbled and trying to get work done doesn't feel like it will be a successful venture. So, on the couch I sit, eating fritos (judge me, please) and drinking apple juice.
I read some websites about writing contests and writing groups. It was all too much. I'm not a real writer. I don't really want to spend hours on end talking to others about writing. I just like putting my thoughts out there for others to read and feel less alone. More introspection made readable. More sermon and reflection than writing. I'm not trying to be Brene Brown, and like I tried to explain to a friend recently, I just want others to know that I don't have it all together. Especially now... especially while I am still trying to seek forgiveness for my biggest mistakes. But, isn't that exactly when we should think like this? When we should write like this? When we feel the most unworthy, isn't that when we should share? It feels like me being a fuck up will make other people feel like they can come as they are. That's what I've been trying to do. But, some people don't think I should be writing. Other people say I should write. Which critic wins? Which voice fills my head? What do I do next? With all those thoughts whirling in my mind, I simply closed the browsers and decided not to write. I opened a book to read, but now here I am. Writing. But it's not really writing, more of steam of consciousness trying to just get the words out of my mind because my head feels too heavy. I feel anxious. I've never been good at not having peace and just existing. And, yet, here I am. Unable to move forward. Can't go back. Just have to be present. Easier to do when the present doesn't feel painful or scary. If nothing else, this experience is allowing me to feel a different reality than I have experienced before- or at least different than I have experienced in a long time.
I'm watching Mesa chew on the wall. She was resting and kept trying to get back up and falling over. I went over to her to offer some help and cuddles. I wanted to take her in to sleep on Kara, but Mesa jumped up and stormed away. Failed. Now she is just eating the wall. If only we could know what our pets think. Could they have given me advice to avoid these moments? Life is hard. Sometimes I wish I could just eat the walls and leave teeth marks on all the wood surfaces, and then hop away as if everything was ok. But, where my teeth bite, the marks are too deep to allow me to just amble away. The damage is done, and now I must sit and wait for what comes next. Be present. Hope that God knows my heart. And hope that he can convince others to know my heart, too.
Mesa is giving herself a bath, but it looks like she keeps itching one ear. Hope she isn't in pain. Henry is crashed on the couch. Damascus is laying beside me, under my big blanket that Sha gave to Kara for Christmas a couple years ago. Rio is eating (still, always) and Pib is in sleeping with Kara. The clock on the wall beside me is ticking loudly. It's impossible to believe sometimes that I can tune that sound out. That sometimes I don't hear it at all because of all the incessant chatter in my mind, and then others, when I get quiet and still, I marvel at how loud that noise actually is. How we function each day, moment by moment, is a mystery to me.
Anyway, not much else to write about. Well, that's not true. I could write about being a failure as a mother (in my eyes and the eyes of others, like Tie). I could write about missing my grandparents, but not really... because they don't know me. My gramma isn't speaking to me anymore. I could write about my baby brother and how it breaks my heart that he is all alone in this world and feels sick. I could write about backyard projects and anxieties at WOU. I could write about basketball season for my son and how I want to go to his games. So many things I could write about, but I don't have the motivation. I feel tired. And what good will come of it? I don't think 'm depressed. I think I just feel really worthless, but am trying to put a brave face on and make it through all this for us. For all of us. But, here's a secret little journal, I'm tired. Really really soul tired. Weary. But I did this. So, on we go.