Where I Complain, Cry and Talk to My Mother

For as many entries that I write these days I delete just as many. They go quickly. I look at what I’ve written and find fault with it. It doesn’t excite me. It bores me. And, if I am not pleased with it how can I possibly expect anybody else to want to read it? I sit here for half an hour and type, pouring my heart out, complaining, crying. It’s menopause. It’s mood swings. It’s something I would keep to myself.

Anyway, enough of that….if it swings one way it’s sure to swing the other way eventually.

I just finished reading, “High Five” by Janet Evanovich and wrote a bit of a review for it over on my book blog. Very cool book. If you were anywhere near me I’d lend you my copy. I’m thinking of taking it with me to Curves tomorrow and leave it in the box by the door. I see ladies pawing through there occasionally. Maybe some day I will too.

See, sometimes I’m sort of frozen. I don’t know why this is, but it’s been that way my whole life. I just say I’m shy. But, it’s really worse than that. I’m frozen. It’s like I don’t know how to dance but I keep trying. Like I’ve got a wooden leg and it swings wide, skidding on the rugs and kicking out at the table legs. But, I try. It’s not pretty. I’m not graceful. I’m not socially savvy. I don’t always say the right thing. I can piss my husband off and not really know what the frap I’ve said to make him angry. I’m like in a fog most of the time. People can talk to me and leave and I wonder what they said. It’s like it blows right through me. Which ain’t a good thing for somebody in a responsible position in an office. I’ll just have to get folks to repeat things and write them down quickly. That way I can go back over them and figure out what somebody just said to me. I wonder if that’s a psychological thing or if it’s just menopause?

I wish I was a cat. That would be easier. If I were a cat in my house. I could sleep wherever I wanted at night. I could curl up on the bed. I could sleep on somebody’s hip or on their shoulders. I could find a box or be on a chair. I could be in the living room or sit on the printer. Right now to the left of me is a cat on a scanner and to the right of me is a cat on a printer. Now, the scanner cat left and the printer cat moved over.

I wish I drank.

It would make things easier.

Maybe I’ll go make tea.

It’s times like this I wonder what the guides think of me. Must be a mess. Just a living, loving mess.

I don’t like to let people see me like this. I hide myself away. I wipe my face quickly to hide the evidence of tears. There’s no reason at all I should be crying.

Why? All I can say is menopause is sucking right now.

And, maybe I’m not so frozen that I won’t delete this mess. I’m sort of reaching for something here and I’m not sure what it is. I just need to reach out and not act like an adult right now.

Go make dinner.

I already ate.

Well, go eat again. You didn’t eat very much.

I could have some soup.

Yes, you could.

Should I delete all that?

No. leave it.

I think this is wishful channeling.

Could be.

My mouth still hurts.

Yes, you were grinding your teeth earlier and it hurt.

Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t grind them.

Grink or grind.

Who is this?

Who do you think?

Mom?

Yes, Sweetheart.

What should I do?

I used to go bang pots in the kitchen.

I can’t do that. Dennis will come and see what I’m doing.

So? He can see you banging pots.

I hate this.

I know you do. You’ll get over it. It will end. Eventually.

Thanks. I love you.

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Next Day: And, a bit of a post script. I was of two minds about deleting this entire entry. I felt almost as though I had paraded around in my underwear. But, I decided to keep it. Why I'm not sure. I still feel a little strange about it. But, I do feel better and, in fact, felt better immediately after having written it. I think it released a bit of tension.