Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Ugly Post #1

Yesterday, in the middle of a mindnumbingly quiet afternoon at work, I made a commitment for the next 30 days to get up at 5:00 a.m. and write. Maybe even blog. 

I made a commitment to sit down for 45 minutes and get serious and honest about what I’m doing with my life and what I want to do with my life and what my options are and who the hell has been putting limits on me (that would be me) and who has been lying to me about my options (again, that would be me). 

So I arrived home and announced I was going to bed early.  

Then a series of events took place involving a dog fight and a husband already in deep pain and stressed out kids and mother-in-law and I ended up with about four hours of sleep, no writing, and that sinking feeling as I walked into my office at 9:00 once again having done nothing to unstick myself from this place I am so stuck in. 

So here’s an unedited, quickly written post from the parking lot of Taco Bell.  Just to say hi. Just to put something out there.  Just to prove I can show up.

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Crazy Train

It only took around six weeks to hack into my Slow Panic email. Six weeks of thinking about it interspersed with quick attempts at guessing my password, going down the rabbit hole of password recovery, resetting the password, forgetting the password and starting over.

Finally, this morning, I did it.  I opened Blogger and logged in.  

So hi.  Here I am.  

I took a quick and painful look at how long it's been since I blogged, skimmed some really horrible posts from the past (which, sadly, resemble this post very much) and logged into Feedly to see if any of my old blog friends are still blogging.  They are. I've missed them.

Hashtag Slow Panic Loser.

So yes, same old story.  I miss this space and I miss writing and now I'm 50 (WTH) and I have three dogs and one and a half cats and still have one husband and two teenagers.  I am still caretaker for my mom and it is still difficult and painful and sad.

In two weeks we are moving from our very small house to a bigger house. We've been in this house for 21 years.  I don't want to leave and I can't wait to get out of here.  

I'm just as alone as I've always been and more surrounded by people then ever.   

I'm constantly trying to figure out how to get off this crazy train and how to extend the ride forever.  All at the same time.  And I'm taking you with me.