Monthly Archives: June 2011

One day I’ll sit down and write every detail of the year and a half I basically lost…

But until then…here’s something I found that I wrote during that time period.

“You Made This Happen”

There’s a credit card envelope on my kitchen table that I will most likely never open. I don’t like credit cards, they cause anxiety, they ruin people’s lives, and I’d much rather just deal in cash or use my bank card. However, credit cards like me. They like me so much that many of them decide to visit my house, only to meet my paper shredder.

This envelope escaped my shredder because it carried a message. On its white background I read an orange strip that says “YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN!” in excited letters.

This is talking about the credit score I have accumulated by paying my bills early. But when I look at this piece of paper that is not what comes to mind.

You made this happen, the envelope says. I don’t even bother to open it because its original meaning is lost to me, instead I am focused on the new meaning that has swallowed up the original and is staring at me, taunting me while I stand and gape at this stupid envelope.

You made this happen to yourself.

This thing that seems to punctuate every aspect of your life…Yes, you did that to yourself, you made this happen.

Normal people don’t try to jump off of hotel balconies, normal people don’t drink all day trying to pass out, normal people don’t have to take nine pills a day to function, normal people don’t cry at the drop of a hat and scream at people in the next breath, normal people are not like you.

You made this happen.

So yes, I did make this happen. I’m angry now and I’m holding the envelope and shaking it. My mother has not yet seen this, she’s still obliviously chopping vegetables next to the kitchen sink. I start to shift my weight from foot to foot and seethe. I did this, yes, but I’m trying to get better. I’m taking my pills, I’m trying. I’m trying dammit. I’m trying to get better. I can’t stop this from happening, I made this happen but I’m trying to get better.

“TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” I yell. My mother drops the knife she’s holding and it lands two inches from a dog.

“Its just a credit card application, tear it up.” She says.

I sigh and tear up the application, taking care to tear the YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN in to little pieces. Stupid credit card company. They shouldn’t print things that have such a negative double meaning.


I know I promised I’d post tonight…

But I really have nothing to say. I started and scrapped three posts.

I can’t force myself to write…right?

Well if that were the case I’d have a finished novel and I’d be writing all the time.

I’m in a funk. I need to accept it, and then get over it.

Maybe this isn’t me…

When I look at my life over the past two months I see a pattern,

I get up, or I flop in my bed wishing I didn’t have to.
I eat breakfast
I get in the car and drive to work
I trudge through my day
I come home and eat dinner
I sit at the house with my husband.

We look for small, affordable houses
We watch TV or something on Netflix
We lament that we never go out and do anything.
We get angry at the dogs because they’re hyper, but we don’t take them to the park because it takes too much effort.

I really don’t have the energy for anything anymore. For the past month I’ve been out of town every weekend because of family drama, a business I’m trying to get off the ground involving my mom, the K, and Mary, or a trip to Michigan, or because my car broke down (f*** you car) — and working 40 hours a week plus overtime. Its taken quite a bit out of me. I’ve started gaining weight again and I feel miserable.

I could have been caught a few weeks ago screaming in my kitchen that my life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Then there’s this…

I don’t feel like I should be posting on this site talking about my Real Life, when I’d really like to crawl under my couch and hide from my life. I know it has to get better eventually but I’m tired of trudging through something I should enjoy.

I’ve written three or four posts this week and they’ve all been condemned to the Drafts folder for re-working. This one was on its way to being one of them…but I’m going to post it…and tomorrow I’m going to post something else, and the next day something else. I will reclaim my blog.

and I’ll reclaim my life eventually…this is the first step down that road.