Thursday, January 13, 2011


       You know, sometimes I feel like a failure.  Sometimes I don't think I'm a good wife.  I often stress about stupid things, things that really will not matter in ten years... or five years or five days.  I have a weak spine and a worrying gene.        There are days when I forget to put away the dinner leftovers and they go bad, days when all I really accomplish is being awake for a few hours.  I often make promises about things I will do and when the day is over I realize not one of those tasks is even started.  There are times when my heart drags to the bottom of my soul, times that I wonder if the light will ever again penetrate the blackness.

       You know, sometimes I feel like a winner.  Sometimes I know I'm a good wife, a beloved daughter, a special sister.  I am able to remain calm in the most adverse situations, I know the small stuff is not worth sweating.  I have a strong will and a tender heart.
       There are days when I know I have accomplished all I need to and I go to sleep quickly and peacefully at night.  I have times when my heart soars in the clouds and my soul sings with joy.

       I have learned that I am an excellent faker.  I show one thing on the outside while feeling a completely different one inside.  While I have my own very strong opinions, I often suppress them until I find if they are common to others.  When my temper boils too hot I can say the most hurtful things, instantly, without thinking it through... and rarely feel remorse until the heat dissipates.  I hold grudges tightly, silent and stealthy.  My heart clings to the familiar and I hate letting anything go.

       When people compliment me on my friendliness and calm demeanor, I laugh a little inside.  If only they could see what I really feel!  Sure, I truly care for people and I do have the ability to calm myself in stressful situations.  I like making people feel special and taking care of the ones who have trouble taking care of themselves.  But when told that I am special and admired for these gifts, I wonder if I should accept the praise?  Should I tell them that I know how to "fake it" really well?  Should I mention that I have tons of practice at making myself look good?  I never do admit these facts aloud.  My fear of rejection halts any honest outburst.

       Maybe someday I will show my true colors.  Perhaps at some point I will no longer care what people think of me and I will simply be myself.  I suppose it's true that you "live and learn", so long as you allow yourself to make the mistakes necessary to learn from.

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