The difference should pull me out of this sleepy little fog. But the sleep is like a drug…canceling my thoughts, numbing the incumbent and impending feelings. It’s hard to be a Guest House, as much as I believe it should be so. It’s hard to welcome them all, because even happiness can make someone wary. Having said that, I am enjoying these visitors. They’re helping me clean house.

How about a sharpy, a rabies tag, and a flashlight to constitute the entertainment divine...

what?

Sorry just trying to get the rusty fingers moving. More? Sure.

The sign on my desk is of Happy Bunny saying, "whatever, you moron." This is the mantra that I repeat in my head at work. Customers, co-workers, whoever, it's "Whatever you moron" until I can breath a clean, non-alcohol induced sigh at the end of the day. Until I can say to myself, "You have money in your pocket, you didn't let loose of your mouth, and you managed to keep from flinging dinner plates at the expo's head...ya done good."

These are things that I don't want to be proud of myself for.

If I have to bite my tongue, I would rather it be b/c I don't want to be overly-excited over a kid who is making great progress. If I have to be frustrated, I want the frustration to be a used emotion, a means to an end, instead of some fury that I have to write away or run off so that I can start fresh the next day. I want to be proud of myself for doing something for myself and others, not for constantly trying to keep my attitude in check.

The weekly "2nd & 3rd Mama therapy sessions" have told me simultaneously to "figure out how to be your kid again" and "stop lurking and just GO." What's funny is, for once in my life, even through the puzzling haze of indecision, I understand what my little universe is up to. When all is right, I will know. It never pays for me to second guess. I am trying to make it so that I won't do that. At least not nearly as much as I have in the past.