…and I sit here at my computer, unable to sleep since I went to bed at 9:30 last night, got up at 7, drank a cup of coffee, went back to bed until almost 11, then took a 2-hour nap before coming over to TAM’s house where we went to bed hours ago.
It seems that even I can get too much sleep.
I want to write and one of the reasons that I want to do so is that I feel shame about my last post. I am uncomfortable and embarrassed that I am whining again. Then I assume that if I am that tired of it then you, my readers must be gagging. Then I think about TAM reading it and suddenly finding me distasteful. And I feel too vulnerable; I used to be more comfortable with that feeling, hesitated less to honestly share. Next, I read and re-read what I wrote. Check comments. Think about hiding it. Then I feel like I can’t start censoring myself because I am an honest writer, so I can’t hide the damn post. Then I figure that the next best thing is a distraction.
I’ll just write another post. This one will be upbeat and funny. It will be wry and witty so that everyone forgets about oh poor me and instead thinks of me fondly again.
To say to the world, “Oh that was just a moment. I’m not really that pathetic. We all have blips.”
And then I would be saving face and I could relax and move on.
So I tried multiple topics including a one-sentence post laughing the whole thing off. Then another one about learning to play euchre, then another one…
And they all came out forced. Because they were forced.
So I decided that the thing to do is to just fucking own it and put it out there.
Welcome to the inner workings of the mind about which my therapist said, “I wouldn’t trade my wheelchair to live inside of your brain.”