Tag Archives: sorry

Wait, Where’s the Part Where I’m Perfect?

I was three years old, and I was learning to tie my shoes.

I had just failed with the clumsy laces for the millionth time (Does the rabbit run around the hole or through it first?  What is this rabbit running from?  Does anyone else think that shoelaces look nothing like a rabbit?)  My mom showed me how to do it again, perfectly tying her shoes on the first try.

Tears filled my eyes, I threw my shoe down, and I said, “I wish I was a grown-up.  I can’t wait until I understand everything and never make mistakes again.”

Oh poor baby Hazel, if you only knew.  My mom told me what I said wasn’t true, but I didn’t believe her.  I never saw her with untied shoes.  I never saw her in time-out.  Clearly her life was perfect.

I’m having one of those weeks where I have the opposite of the Midas touch: instead of everything I touch turning to gold, everything I touch is turning to poo.  I got to work late three out of five days this week. I made a parent mad with one of my lesson plans (even though I worked so hard on it!).  I dropped the football on a key play during a staff football game.  I got rejected by another agent who showed interest in my book (I know people say that rejection is part of a writer’s life, which is true, but – crazy thought here – is acceptance ever a part of it?  Ever??).  I even made a big mistake on this blog. I unintentionally wrote something hurtful and offensive in my last post, and I hope anyone who saw it will accept my sincerest apology.  I truly didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I was being thoughtless with my words because I was angry.  I had no malicious intent.  Scout’s honor, it will not happen again.

Dang – good thing I’m not actually a scout.  If I was trying to survive in the wilderness this week, I’d be dead for sure.  I was a girl scout in second grade only.  I sold cookies and did a report on Kenya.  I hope that’s enough to make my aforementioned “scout’s honor” legitimate.  If not, invent another promise for yourself.  I’ll promise that instead.

Other jobs I’m thankful to not have this week: surgeon (mistakes would kill people), the person in charge of our nuclear arsenal (mistakes would kill a lot of people), veterinarian (mistakes could kill puppies), stock broker (mistakes could cost people millions), Trump’s public relations manager (because that job would just suck in general).

I wish that there was some age where suddenly mistakes evaporated and I could effectively do all the things, but if there’s an age where that happens then I know I haven’t hit it yet.  It should have kicked in by now, because I’m pretty adult on all levels: I’m married.  I have a full-time job.  I have a house.  I consistently tie my own shoes without error.

Then again, I occasionally have ice cream for breakfast and my favorite color is still sparkles.  I tell people it’s teal so I don’t sound like I’m four, but I don’t think I ever fully grew out of “my favorite color is sparkles.”  Maybe this means I’m not a full adult yet.  There is still hope for my dream of perfection!!

Well, no there’s not, but I still feel a little let down by adulthood.  I feel like I let people down more consistently than I make anyone smile, and I always hoped I would grow out of that one day.  Especially this week, I feel like my life is one mistake after another.

Whoa, hold on, this post is teetering on the edge of the rocky cliff marked “Pity Party.”  If there’s one party I don’t want to join, it’s that one.  Let’s turn this ship around quickly, people (don’t ask why my ship is on a rocky cliff.  My blog, my rules.  My ship needs no water).  Instead of a pity party, let’s go to the kind of party where a guinea pig wears a sombrero.

sombrero

Phewf!  Way better.  Don’t ask me what kind of party that is, but I want to be there.  He’s wearing a sombrero.

Cheers to a weekend reset and hopefully a better week next week.

 


Sorry is all I can think to say

My eyes drip w sadness
My body weak from the weight
Turbulent thoughts
Then no thoughts
Just numb
Shutting down
There is no explanation
I do not know the cause
Tears invade my space
I sit unable to express
The sudden pain
I can fight no more
I am tired
I try and try
Fulfill my role as wife, friend, worker
I hold my head high
For as long as I can
Smile for the camera
Dance for you
Now I weep
Broken
On the floor
And i want to say sorry
Sorry
I am not more
Sorry
I am not better
Sorry
I am this way
But the Words fall silent
The guilt remains tethered on the inside
I feel your disappointment
It scars me


The Bipolar Made Me Do It…but the Shame is eating me alive

 

We’ve all done it

We all know it

We’ve all been there

We all hold something

maybe a bunch of somethings

head hanging

head shaking

OhMyGoding

WhatTheFucking

the Shame that is like an actual physical creature

the Shame that is like acid

burning you up inside

making you want to break glass windows

Shame that hurts

and

stupid

stupid

stupid

why why why

how?

HOW?

And it blows your mind that YOU were the person doing that

behaving that way

SAYING those things

embarrassed

 

and horrified

scared of yourself

of Bipolar

of the reality of what it can do

the extent to which it can take you from you

the way it can lead you blithely skipping into your own ruin

and that

is terrifying


Filed under: Bipolar Sucks, i love Mania Hates me, Sometimes we just feel All Bipolar Tagged: mania, putting ourselves down, sorry

The Bipolar Made Me Do It…but the Shame is eating me alive

 

We’ve all done it

We all know it

We’ve all been there

We all hold something

maybe a bunch of somethings

head hanging

head shaking

OhMyGoding

WhatTheFucking

the Shame that is like an actual physical creature

the Shame that is like acid

burning you up inside

making you want to break glass windows

Shame that hurts

and

stupid

stupid

stupid

why why why

how?

HOW?

And it blows your mind that YOU were the person doing that

behaving that way

SAYING those things

embarrassed

 

and horrified

scared of yourself

of Bipolar

of the reality of what it can do

the extent to which it can take you from you

the way it can lead you blithely skipping into your own ruin

and that

is terrifying


Filed under: Bipolar Sucks, i love Mania Hates me, Sometimes we just feel All Bipolar Tagged: mania, putting ourselves down, sorry