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Writing comfort

It has been occurring to me lately that while I have been writing my face off every day for the past few months, I haven't really just sat down and written something just for me.  I used to use writing as a release.  Lately it's been used more as a tool, which is wonderful - don't get me wrong.  But I could use some writing therapy.  So.. here goes:

There really aren't too many things that actually bother me in life.  I look at a lot of things in more of a scientific observation sort of way and evaluate the situation with a cocked head and unfeeling eyes with an imaginary clipboard held to my chest.  Even when I cry, I look at my own emotions in this strange way.  

But that's how I know when I'm really AM feeling something.  When I have no control.  When I can observe myself without being able to intervene or change.  When I'm doubled over and unable to recover from that kick in my gut.  When I put my hands out to grasp for any type of answer only to find my own eyes staring back at me with nothing to offer except a lame joke or anecdote.

I deal with feelings by trying to figure out if I am actually feeling them or if I just think I am.  Even right now as I type, I am questioning whether or not I actually feel this way or if I just think I do about feelings.

I wonder if it has anything to do with motherhood.  

Because I don't remember being this way before.  

In fact, I don't remember much about life before becoming a mom.  It's all blurry.  Like a movie I know I've seen before, but can't quite remember enough to make it make sense.

Maybe I treat emotions in myself this way because that's how I do it with my kids.  With them, I need to evaluate constantly to determine not only the outcome of their emotions, but the possible fallout in any scenario they throw at me.  I need to be consistent.  Even when I, myself, am falling apart at the seams.

It makes it easier, I guess. 

And you know what?  I like easier.

When I don't wrap myself in my emotions, and I find humor in every single thing - no matter how tragic or unfunny it may seem - it's easier.  It's lighter.  Lighter is better than darker any time.

My daughter turns 11 tomorrow.  I know right now I'm clicking upward in the roller coaster car just waiting for whatever lies past that first big drop called the teen years.  Observing and absorbing and laughing all the way.

 

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