I wrote this fabulous post. It was great. I lost it. I don't know how. I think it was Gabe. Sixteen months old and addicted to electronics. He climbs up on the chair all the time and starts banging and clicking like a mad man. I'm pretty sure he knows his time is limited, and I'll come running to stop him, so he tries to get in as much activity as possible. We've tried to trick him with old keyboards and mice that aren't connected, but he isn't fooled. He is looking for screen activity.
The last post was about being up. I was so up! But now I'm down, so I have nothing to say. Other than the usual moaning and groaning. "My kids are bad; I look 4 months pregnant; My house is a dump; I keep messing things up; I'm a bad wife; I'm a bad mom; I'm a bad friend." That sort of thing.
To be sure, I'm paranoid, yes. And my sister Liz informed me yesterday that perhaps I haven't noticed, but my perspective is always that it is my fault. And I didn't used to be that way. I was a blamer. I guess I've swung too far the other way. But when you're paranoid, it ALL seems like your fault. Even having low self-esteem feels like your fault. AND you are pretty sure that everyone else knows and is talking about it when you aren't there. It feels exactly like you've been walking around for twenty minutes and suddenly discover that your skirt is stuck up in your underwear and nobody told you. AND that you are that lady who gets up to bear her testimony every month whether or not she has anything to say. I've been advised, by my very wise and trusted advisors, that the only thing to do is to let it all go and stop even thinking about it. Catch 22 - I CAN'T stop thinking about it because I'm paranoid!
Alright, I'm going back to watch B movies on Saturday Cinema.
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If you go to the page where you write new posts and then click the little link that says "Return to List of Posts" you might find an automatically saved version of that blog post you lost.
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