Confession: I over share my inner dialogue. Yesterday while out shopping for Christmas, and my impending new home, I over shared this thought. I suck at being a human being. I know I do certain annoying things. Do you do this? Are you judgmental about certain things and totally laid back about other things. The pirate is out on disability but somehow he has the money to go on a major food and home goods hoard. Suddenly we have two new totally unneeded cutting boards, a gross of boxed Chinese noodle soups, jars of tea jelly (don’t ask i just don’t understand) and more things to keep the sink from clogging. How many do you need? We cannot even pour hot pasta water down the sink because it will damage the pipes. See how I over share? I am not good at being a human, but boy do I have jackass and bitch down pat.
Your inner dialogue should not be one that is putting you down. I am struck once again at 2 am, how this guy, the pirate, how he is literally my internal ego made visible, it is not a perfect match, but it comes pretty close. Trip over a piece of fluff, you clutz, not get the gist of something obvious, you idiot, not jumping up and doing housework, you lazy slob, pants not buttoning over belly bulge, you fat unattractive cow. I watch too, his craving and copying television. He is a hungry ghost. The pressure is on from his mom or his aunt the hunger grows. I say I am moving out in a few months he feeds his hunger with the hoard. I do this too. I feed my hunger with the hunger. I am awful. I am a jackass. I am a bitch. I over share. Its my own hungry ghost.
I am working on this in therapy. Once again. But oddly it is external forces bringing me there. I am a better person when I don’t have a man telling my I should be doing this or I should look like that or I shouldn’t talk like this or I shouldn’t be doing that. I judge, why are you wasting your money, you are on disability, and did your aunt give you money again? Where are you getting the money for this spending spree? Mortifying my ex husband called it.
But then again. I cannot see the kitchen counter for the gross of pasta, and the three loaves of pumpkin spice bread from BJ’s that are already in the first stages of spoiling, and the two new cutting boards, still in their packages, and the two coffee makers. TWO! sitting on the edge of the counter instead of being pushed to the back, and the tea jelly and honey and tea boxes, sitting on the counter for two weeks. I cannot bear it. How can I survive until June? How? I am mortified.
I scream the lyrics to What Does the Fox say. I am coated in itching powder. I am insane with raging sanity.
I need to get out of myself. I need to get out of here.
I suck at being human, I am flawed, but I think, deep in the recesses of my mind that I got this…and few others do.
Wouldn’t it just be easier, I say, if I just settled in and watched TV all day, or gave in and bought things madly consuming and spraying room sprays and filling a house with potpourri so our animal self is disguised with fakeness, wouldn’t it just be easier to eat salads and diet cokes and wear short skirts and the latest fashion. Wouldn’t it just be easier to not care?
It wouldn’t be easier for you, she says.
So here I sit, in my own skin, like a mad man.