Ever Have One Of Those Days??

To Be Crazy Or Not To Be Crazy On A Cray-Cray Day

This post is absolutely an outpouring of my soul – with the hope that anyone reading it is helped by its words. Because I know there is at least 1 person who will benefit from what I am expressing…well 2, if I include myself.

…otherwise, I wouldn’t put it out here…


Last night, we were studying spirit animals. Middlest discovered her spirit animal – Rocket Racoon from Guardians of the Galaxy.

He represents her true essence on the big screen. I love that about her!

We were sitting on the floor next to each other, Middlest with her iPad and me with my ancient 82-1/2-year-old computer that I medicate with Viagra to keep the hard drive hard. #cantgetitupanymore

Anyway, we wanted to find out what our actual spirit animals are- It’s for a book I’m writing – and it’s related to the Hot-Crazy Matrix, where I am ranked as a borderline unicorn. 🙂


Middlest commented, “But you’re totally crazy.”

I said, “No I’m not.”

She said, “Yeah, certifiable. You wear kids’ T-shirts and sit on the floor.” 

I said, “Yes, but he likes that about me. ‘Crazy’ in the eyes of a man is ‘nagging,’ ‘bitching,’ ‘complaining, ‘making no sense,’ etc…that kind of stuff.”

She said, “Oh, ok. Well, then no, you’re not crazy.”

I said, “Thanks!”

She said, “Let’s take another quiz…”

During the entire evening, however, I was under a cloud of anxiety because I couldn’t find something that I was requested to find. I had everything else except that – the one thing that was requested of me –

We went to bed, and the nightmares started.


This morning, my walk was interrupted by an awesome rain and magnificent lightning storm, so I chose to drive to fetch my coffee. I returned and woke the little darlings up so we could get ready for school.

In our little microcosm (apartment), we are a close-knit band.

We are so close, in fact, that when one of us is feeling off, the rest of us can feel it too.

This morning, my heightened stress was palpable even though I was outwardly calm…with shaking hands…

Middlest finally said, “I think we all just need to mediate.”

…and we took in a collective deep breath.

I asked her, “Do you have anyone in your life that no matter what you do or say, it will always be wrong? That you’ll always be a fuck-up in their eyes?”

“Every day of my life,” she replied.


“That’s how I’m feeling right now,” I said. “I shouldn’t care, and I can’t figure out why I do.” 

It was over that request, which really is a little thing, because it usually is…the molehill that gets turned into a mountain.

The thing is, it hasn’t even become a mountain – Nonetheless, I’m beating myself up because it probably will, so I am anticipating it. And I am mulling over all the various scenarios in my head that could possibly happen next.

And since the worst has come to fruition in the past and, therefore, remains a very real possibility; it is always a looming dread in the background of my existence, (i.e. taking my kids or yelling at me or punching a wall near my head) –

It’s extraordinarily difficult to not dismiss those things as possibilities, even though that is entirely irrational.

I know and accept that I will always be a royal fuck-up in the eyes of Mr. Ex.

The truth is, I probably make 1,000 tiny mistakes a day and I continuously correct them. They are small, never the end of the world, and it took me years of retraining myself to correct the “self-flagellation” ….to be able to breathe again and not fear what might happen next.

That said, when someone you love and trust continuously is the one stabbing you, it becomes a very deep wound.

And when I hear about the ones I love most being stabbed by someone they love – It stabs me again…new fresh wound.

After sending my “slices of heaven” to their destinations, I decided that I should talk to someone about what I was feeling.

I didn’t make the wisest decision.

It started well, and as the words left my thought bubbles and came out of my mouth, I started to feel better.

…until…I was offered a criticism that stabbed me again, over something completely unrelated and something that is “me” to my very core – the outpouring of my soul – my writing.

This time, however, I defended myself, and for that I am proud.

I know not everybody is going to resonate with what I have to say. They may not enjoy it or laugh as much I do when they read it. They may even be offended by it. I kind of hope so sometimes, even though that scares me a little bit.

I am acutely aware of this every time I hit “publish.”

I do not take that action lightly.

It probably takes me 10x longer to produce one post than any other author because I read, re-read, re-read out loud, correct format, read, re-read, re-read out loud, correct, add, read, re-read, and re-read out loud until I’ve run out of time.

I have issues with perfection.

I have issues with not being perfect.

I also love not being perfect – It’s very freeing.

But this time it’s hitting me in a different way….and now I have connected the dots…

I have to live with the fact that I will always be a disappointment to someone whom I never wanted to be a disappointment to.

I have to live with the fact that in the eyes of the one person who was supposed to have cared, I will always be boring, unattractive, unlovable, and a complete fuck-up, repeatedly, even though I put forth a tremendous effort to live well, be honorable, and try hard to be my best.

It will probably haunt me until the day I die and every time another fuck-up occurs – and in each occurrence, I am reminded of the disappointment I represent to the person who chose to marry me – the boringness, the unattractivenes, the unloveableness, the perpetual fuck-upness.

I have issues with perfection.

I have issues with not being perfect.

I also love not being perfect – It’s very freeing.


With my head spinning from being insulted and criticized on the phone when I was asking for help, I decided to walk to the bank. I approached a driveway that cut through the sidewalk. There was a car waiting to make a left turn into it.

I hadn’t yet arrived at the driveway, so I stopped walking and looked behind, saw no cars, and waved to the car to turn in ahead of me because he would have had to wait for a bit before I arrived at the driveway and then walked across it.

I waved to him again to indicate that he could turn in – that I was in no hurry – I couldn’t see his face. I was still a little lost in my thoughts and wiping a tear from my face.

He then turned quickly, proceeded to roll down his window, and yelled at me, calling me a bitch.

Yep, it’s one of those days.

I felt like Gamora walking through the prison with all of the inmates yelling at her, wanting to kill her because of who she was and what she represented. She walked gracefully, silently.


I love who I am – I really do.

I love the tribe of people in my life – I really do.

I am taking courageous steps that I know I need to take but are hard anyway and scary anyway.

I have zombies chasing me everywhere, wanting to smother me with that insecurity blanket.

Why now? Why is all of this coming up now?

  • Because I’m adding new necessary dimensions to my work and career – and change can be daunting.
  • Because life is ups and downs and I have chosen to feel rather than to be numb.
  • Because I have an amazing friend who means the world to me.

So here I am, faced with the only things I can control: ME, my actions, my feelings, and my crazy.

Honestly, I feel like I’m standing on the tall platform at the first zip line, feeling like I am going to free-fall into an abyss – or a pit of zombies that are going to pull me down with them – kind of dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I have talked about how scary that was to many people, standing on that first zip line tower, especially because I’m scared of heights.

I had to face that fear alone, with that dizzying queasiness – I felt like I was on a swing at the very top of the arch and that I was going to fly out of it.

During the many times I told that zip line story, I remarked how I couldn’t remember the one thing that made me step off – that made me decide to take that leap.

I remembered it today, two things:

  1. “You’ll be so disappointed in yourself if you don’t this.”
  2. “You’ll have to tell Captain Amazing that you chickened out – YOU BIG NINNY – and he will be disappointed in you too.”

I am not gonna lie – He is so cool!and I never want to disappoint him.

“Never” is a fucking long time, I know that, so that’s a completely unrealistic expectation to put on myself.

…so is being a unicorn, but I’m striving for it anyway…

The point is, sometimes shit gets a little crazy and shit comes up. It just does. When it does, how I handle it determines my level of crazy, which will not go above a 5, no matter how cray-cray things get.




2 thoughts on “Ever Have One Of Those Days??

    1. I do appreciate that immensely. However, he has not said those things directly to me in a few years – It’s my past haunting me when he contacts me in the present.

      I’m also fascinated by it all, and I can see how a woman who might be in my shoes would ineffectively handle these kinds of feelings even when she finds herself in the arms of greatness… if that makes sense…

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