Sunday, September 11, 2011

I'm Really Good at Lying

I’m really good at lying to myself. But I wish I weren’t.

“I love the extreme-ness of my boot camp class. It’s the only way I can get myself to do exercise.”  (It sucks ass. I hate it.)

“I want to read books and review them for my blogs. It’ll be good for platform building and give me new content.” (Assigned reading has become my enemy. I’m starting to hate it. A chore list to hock spit wads at.)

“Leading the meetings for the writer’s organization I’m in is fulfilling and will be great for networking. I’ll meet so many authors!” (Chore list. And I’m uber anxious over remembering the random yet oh so important tasks that come up never at once but all spread out during the month … like, sending out press releases and contacting the speakers to confirm they are coming. And then … getting a babysitter for the meeting night and running the meeting, and driving the babysitter home with the kids in the car at 9:30 at night on a school night because the babysitter doesn’t have a car yet. Fuck, maybe she doesn’t even drive.)

“I love my job!” (It’s hard work … even if it’s only three or four hours a day, five days a week. Right in the middle of the day. My most productive writing hours of the day.)

“This divorce is easy. No sweat. Nothing much has changed, really. Hahaha.” (The parenting visitation schedule blows just a little bit. My ex didn’t bother to lose weight until after I split. I don’t get to go to Costa Rica. And I miss my fucking dog.)

“I have plenty of money.” (Ok. So this one isn’t a lie, but I can’t seem to figure out what I’m doing wrong on the managing of it and it’s super stressful. Paycheck to paycheck stressful.)

“Living in an apartment is way easier. I really like where I live.” (I miss my dog. I miss having chickens. I miss my hot tub. I miss having a back yard and the ability to grow something in the earth. I miss the damn roses I planted that look great in my ex’s yard. I miss my washer and dryer.)

“Sure I miss N. but we’re doing great on the communicating long distance and I’m taking it one day at a time. I can handle the distance and the time apart. He’s totally worth the wait.” (Ok. So most of this isn’t a lie either. I do love him. He is totally worth the wait. But I’m not taking it one day at a time; I’m not handling the distance and the time apart. It’s been 74 days since I’ve been in the same room with him. Touched him. Kissed him. Or held him. I’m starting to fall apart. I’m lonely. I’m depressed. I’m getting tired all the time. I don’t want to eat anything. Except maybe marshmallows … and I hate marshmallows. And I’m staring at the walls again. I’m irritated all the time now and … I’m finding it hard to breathe. And I hate everything. And I’m … thinking too much. And … I’m trying to repress my desire for male attention.)

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