I’m supposed to write today. I made a goal at the beginning of the year to write three times a week so that I could develop a readership, have a platform, write something significant and life changing and make enough money to buy an island where I don’t have to talk to people I think are creepy.
The problem is that I don’t want to write anything. I am really stressed out right now and so it is hard to think of anything to write about or to really and truly care. I have notes of topics that I keep so that when I am burned out or it’s a day I said I would write, I would have something to say. The other day my son said to me: “I believe piranhas are misunderstood.” There is a lot of material there. Or how the same son was watching TV intently and I looked and saw blood all over the screen. I asked, “What ever are you watching dear son?”
Him: “Surviving animal attacks.”
Me: “And what animal are they attacking?”
I thought – well this is helpful – I said: “And how do you survive that?”
Him: “Go to the hospital, mainly.”
There is some good material there (mostly about questioning my mothering abilities because I just shrugged and let him finish the hour long show of watching people being attacked by animals.)
I have been getting out this week – the first week of the month is book club and bunko and so I have been making jokes and laughing, but really I’m just incredibly stressed and losing myself in books and TV so that I don’t have to face life. I have kept up on laundry and the dishes but I haven’t fed my kids well and I haven’t done much with them unless you count forcing them to do homework and play the piano.
My husband can let stress roll off him. I can’t. I can not think about something through deadening of the senses through endless episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 – and I just found a great series called Justified which is on FX and therefore, I guess, it can use stronger language but right now I want to use stronger language but because I am a refined lady I don’t. I just watch it on TV. Anyhow, I can deaden senses, but once I have to do something again, the stress is there. I can sing at the top of my voice and I can Zumba until I puke but the stomachache is always there and the desire to curl up into a little ball or run back to college where stress was a 10 page paper and whether Stan would ask me out is never far behind.
So I really don’t want to write right now and I am having a very hard time finding the silver lining. Luckily, two hours of BH 90210 starts in 10 minutes.