Numb

As I claw my way through another day I find that more than anything else I wish to be numb. If you don't feel you don't hurt. If you don't hurt you don't cry. . . . . . .but if you don't cry . . . . are you human?

I freely admit to a charmed life. My parents doted on me. They did everything they could for me and to this day I can call either one and know when the conversation ends they will say, "I love you, honey."  It scares me that by even 1% I may be in the minority on that one.

My husband loves me. He comes home every night. He doesn't hit me or our kid. I know there are probably hundreds of thousands who would almost kill for that.

I have a great job with a great boss who pays me well and doesn't freak out or make me feel inferior. I listen to people complain about their jobs every day.

I have a child who is bright and funny and healthy and sensitive and beautiful. There are mothers all over the world who put flowers at their children's graves every day or sit at hospital beds praying for God to take the disease from their baby and give it to them.

How in the world could I, who has truly everything, be so selfish to wish for nothing else but to be numb?

When I am not worried I wonder what I forgot to worry about. When I am worried I compound it with extra items that are beyond my control.

Weird that I have a box inside my head that looks like a pirate's treasure chest. In it lives The Black Ooze.  The Black Ooze looks like that creature from the movie "The Blob". It threatens to take over. Envelope me. I  try to keep it locked in the box I created for it yet sometimes it leaks out.

Why can't I let go of the things that make me so angry? I brought this up to a person close to me and they said, "What you need to do is figure out what you need to forgive yourself for. You know what it is. Stop beating yourself up. The past is the past. Let it be there."

The freedom symbolized in those words I could actually taste. All the anger. All the self-loathing. All the mistakes. Can I leave them behind?

If I let them go, do I have an identity? Have I let the 20 years of anger consume me to the point that I am condemned to fighting the Ooze?

Suddenly fighting for freedom doesn't mean war on a global scale. Sometimes fighting for freedom is allowing yourself to make terrible mistakes. And then forgiving yourself for it.

Odd how you hear songs when they come out and then years later they mean something completely different:

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There’s only one thing you should know
I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter 

If I could go back I'd change everything. I can't go back. How do I go forward?

No peace today.