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Filtering by Tag: sad


Cindy Maddera

Last week, while I was drooling on the couch, I realized that I could probably be doing more than just blankly staring at the TV. Except I never got up to do anything more than make a cup of tea. I'm back at work, by the way. My coworkers kind of wish I wasn't because I sound gross, but there are moments when I can actually breath through both sides of my nose today. My chiropractor told me to drink apple cider vinegar with raw honey to fight the inflammation in my sinuses. I stopped by the healthy nut store on my way back to work and then made myself the most awful drink of too much apple cider vinegar and not enough raw honey. I'm drinking it anyway because I think it's working. It's only been twenty minutes and I'm sure it doesn't work that fast, but believing that it is working is what's keeping me alive (not really). Any hoo, back to things I should have been doing instead of blankly staring. 

I should have been garden planning. I should have been reading. I should have been sleeping. I should have been knitting. I should have been editing photos. I should have been looking into a way to sell some photos. I should have been coloring, but by far, what I really should have been doing was writing. I did none of that. I could have worked on some unfinished things even if I didn't feel like writing up anything for this space. Thursday rolled around and I had nothing written for a Love Thursday entry and then I gave myself a pass for my Thankful Friday entry. If I want to be completely truthful here, I considered a Love Thursday entry but then I thought "I don't want to write a Love Thursday." I was relieved to not sit down and make an effort to write an entry for Thursday with a theme. I don't want to do Love Thursday posts at all any more. Then I felt really bad for thinking that and then I felt OK for thinking that and then I felt really good with thinking that.

I'm tired of doing those entries. Love Thursday has become work and that's something it should never be. Lately though, I have been grasping for ideas for those posts and struggling with writing anything worth while. Most of the time, I'm just phoning it in with a bunch uplifting words that you could you read off the back of any self help book. There have been times when I might as well of just said "Ooh! Look at that grape! I love grapes." because I am reaching to find anything relevant for a Love Thursday. There's a part of me that is really ok with letting this go, but there's the other part of me that is scared to let this go. I don't want to slip back into old habits of using this place as a podium to bitch and complain. I don't want to forget to look for the love and good things in my life. It's just that right now, it all feels like pretend. I am pretending.

The other day Michael and I had a good getting things off our chest moment. He said something to me that he's said before and I always want to tell him he's wrong. He said that I was a sad person. In his defense, he said it not meaning it to sound like a bad thing. It's just something he says he knows about me, that I am a sad person. When he says this I want to scream "I AM NOT! I AM A HAPPY PERSON! I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY ALL THE FUCKING TIME. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Except I know he's not wrong because I have photographic evidence. I started a year of self portraits because I needed to learn to like myself again, but I'm two months into it and I'm not any closer to seeing my face and liking what I see. In those pictures I take where I just simply look at the camera I can see it. My resting face is sad face. That's what I've learned from taking a daily photo. I have resting sad face. There's a vacancy in my eyes that I didn't realize existed until now. When I first noticed it, I was surprised by it. I looked at the picture of myself and thought "what happened to me?". Oh wait. A lot's happened to me and kind of in a short, concentrated amount of time.

I guess I think I am not a sad person because I can write a Love Thursday entry even if it's a phoned in post about a grape. I am pretending to not be a sad person because I write these entries every week. In fact on weeks where I have nothing for those kinds of posts, I get slightly panicked. Someone soon is going to figure it out and see that I am a fraud. So I might as well come clean now. By coming clean, I feel like I want a fresh clean notebook. I want to make changes here. I want to write here without being tied to a theme. I want to write here without dreading the content or censoring my content. I want to write here without constantly trying to sound like Pollyanna.

I want to write things that will change my resting sad face.



Cindy Maddera

I've been lugging around this bucket full of anger for a while now. Occasionally I'll plop it down hard enough for it slosh out all over everything, but despite all the sloshing, it still remains pretty full. I thought if I distanced myself from the source of the anger that the bucket of anger would eventually evaporate. I think this theory is working, but the bucket is still pretty heavy and I'm getting really tired of lugging it around. It's a pointless emotion particularly when there's nothing I can do or say to make that person understand that their words are hurtful. It's complicated to write about and easier to just remove myself from direct line of sight. 

The other night Michael was putting me to bed and he was asking me questions. "Are you tired?" "Yes." "Are you sad?" I hesitated wondering if I should speak the truth and thinking that it was good that these were all yes or no type questions. I can walk and chew gum at the same time, but I have never been able to talk and cry at the same time. That physical act closes up my throat so that nothing larger than a squeak can escape. I worried about this after I volunteered to give Dad's eulogy. I can still hear the break of my voice as I neared the end, no longer able to contain the bubble of a sob that had been resting just under the surface. I finally replied "yes". Yes, I am sad. 

There's that scene in the original Cheaper By the Dozen where one of the younger boys is sitting on the front porch crying. The two oldest girls come home and they ask him what's wrong and he just wails "Oh Andy, our Daddy's dead!". It get's me every time and it's just playing in a loop in my head. "Oh Andy, our Daddy's dead." And I am sad. My Dad's never going to call me up in the middle of a day and say "hey! I'm in the lobby. Let's go get something to eat". I'm never going to hear him tell me about driving a fancy new Cadillac across Texas or where ever.  I'm never going to be cleaning out my car and come across a bag of roasted peanuts that he'd stashed in there for me to find later.  

My sadness is a valid emotion. It's OK to be sad, but it's not OK for me to carry around this bucket of anger. It serves no purpose. It's heavy and those times it sloshes out, it makes a mess. Also, it's starting to smell bad. I'm ready to just leave the bucket in that corner of my basement I never go into because the spiders have taken over and well...the basement's just gross. Then I remember that the basements on my list of things to take care of this year. Eventually I will have to go into that corner of the basement. But I will go in prepared. Rubber gloves and pants tucked into my shoes prepared. 

I'll clean it up then.