waking up first in the morning, mad. at a sameold sameold routine, flush with marital routine. . . mad...
kids rush, dress for 'dresslikeateacherday'... we need more male teachers, it gets difficult for boys in kindergarten to find clothes they're willing to wear to dress like a woman. strange choices. backwards day? flipflop day? lots of choices...
the mess of marital discord is like that stinking whale carcass that is making internet rounds. what has great beauty is having a moment of fester and it stinks to holy hell. (if hell is holy. i suppose it must be if it was created by something Good.)
I hate starting days like this. all the trite 'don't go to bed mad' sayings weren't loud enough for me in this 12th year of marriage and avoiding eye contact takes all the spirit out of my anger. I am tired and trying to think of what can get me over my hurdle this morning... no retail therapy option, trying to stay away from the magic of badforme food.
there is of course, this writing therapy... and i'm hoping it'll alleviate some of my resentment and repetitious assault on what is this marriage i am in.
noone ever lets on how difficult it is.... unless for them, it is truly not difficult. is that for real?
i am in a season of stink, a grief-stricken calamity of spring. yingyanging back and forth internally. waiting desperately for something longer than a half hour of sun.
thinking of my kids and how much i loved them yesterday made me want to gobble up the dirt... stick my face in it and glory at its richness... how weird is that mess?...
maybe something to do with hope, and growth... should be making eye contact more, maybe. dirtface.
all done with my five minutes... no edits, yet again...
- this is from the Five Minute Friday prompt at http://lisajobaker.com/2014/05/five-minute-friday-mess/
Friday, May 2, 2014