Raise your hand if you’re over it.
August 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
I took a break from the everything to come sit outside and write. I’m also listening to mellow country music and have not consumed a carbohydrate today. Let’s get real. That is probably not helping anything.
Now, the 71-degrees-overcast-and-breezy is most certainly helping. Finally, Summer took a day off. Halle-frickin-luyah.
I, too, have finally decided to give myself an entire day off. Seven, actually. I tried to do just one last week and, as the borderline-nuts-but-freaking-hilarious Austin Zane Jones pointed out, I did a shoot for funsies, booked a gig, and talked to three different clients in my runnings around. So, come mid-October, after Chris Ciricicicioniminime visits us, I’m gonna pack as few shoes as possible, some wine, and not-the-computer into a car and drive to the coast. All by myself.
Because being an adult might be the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done with my life. The workload and the social calendar and the budgeting and the cooking and the psoriasis and the hugging I can all handle. What bogs me down is constantly fighting the bullcrap.
You aren’t married because you’re broken.
He doesn’t call because you’re worthless.
They don’t respond because you’re less than.
You’re not where you’re supposed to be.
You’ll never get this right.
And, you know, after a bourbon & Coke or three, I am upstairs on the hardwoods doing the runny man in my socks. Because I just don’t care.
I just dated myself, didn’t I? Crapsickle. Ok, if you don’t know the runny man, a quick refresher (this gets really good at 2:24):
(Seriously, who is this guy and can I be his friend?)
I hug you relentlessly and fill my life with your laughter and chase Love because all of these things help.
And, even still, they somehow creep in. My heart gets wounded and they fight to hammer down the door. It’s really hard to keep them out when I am tired and lonely and wounded.
But, thank God in His goodness, the wound is where the Light enters me, too*.