Isn’t it funny?


So when you’re pumping along, going through the day, you mentally compose all these great blog posts.  You have witty, funny, pithy things to say.  Then, out of the blue, you have time to actually sit down and write, and yet you have nothing of substance to say?  You stare blankly at the equally blank screen with a bank of blank thoughts blanking out the day.

And then you have another sip of wine, because, really, when doesn’t wine make everything better?

And the best part about me and wine is that it makes hitting the delete key that much easier.  I had started typing this run-down on the latest bit of family drama, but I realize I don’t care enough right now to actually remember all the juicy bits.  And that’s fine by me.  I mean, really, who wants to hear about something that pitiful in detail?  Suffice it to say, I had a “moment,” and my dear friend talked me out of the wallowing in guilt and self-flagellation that I’m so very good at.

The best part was that everything she said was accurate.  And she knew what she was talking about, because her family gives mine a run for its money in the crazy category.  Not to mention that she had been here when everything was happening, so she had been in on the ground floor of insanity and knew all the fire escapes.  She helped me acknowledge that my family have put themselves in an untenable position despite my best efforts, not because of them.  She reminded me that most of the reason that things didn’t work out was because my parents weren’t willing to do the basic maintenance on themselves to keep themselves able to live without constant nursing supervision.  If they had only done something, we would have still been able to care for them.  Tonight, I reflected on this as I drove home, and I realized that it was really a blessing that I was forced out of it all, because I had been putting myself in debt to care for them, both financially and emotionally.   I had nothing left to give, and I was trapped.

So, without going into detail about it, I managed to pretty much go into detail about it.  How’s that for a worthless post?

It seems as though it doesn’t matter how much progress I make in freeing myself from this ugly knot of guilt and negative thinking, I come straight back to it.  But it also feels easier to let it go each time.  Yes, it’s there.  Yes, I feel guilt.  Now, let’s think about something else.

And right now, that something else is reading Harry Potter to my girls.


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