The World's Smallest Violin

'Writer's Block' is an understatement.

It's more like 'Adreneline Block' or 'Caffeine Absorption Block' or 'I Can't Process Anything That Requires More Than One Brain Cell Block' or 'My Electricity Got Shut Off Yesterday, Not Because I Don't Have Enough Money In My Account, But Because If It's Not On Auto Debit, I Can't Remember To Pay It On Time"...Block.

Seriously, yesterday, my electricity got shut off. According to my husband, the control over our finances that I currently have and have had for almost two decades, will be transferred to him in 3...2...1...

I try, I really do. But let's add it all up. Next month my youngest child turns 13 years old. That's enough. There is only so much a woman in her forties can take. Blog Over.

And then there is this....

I had to fire someone two weeks ago. She was a new hire and was not working out, so I let her go. I manage a very successful dental practice and today, amazingly, I had to call the police on a patient that was acting inappropriately. I am putting in a bunch of extra hours, as I should, due to a very important member of our team being out on maternity leave. The words 'maternity leave' sound so blissful. Just the same as the words 'all expenses paid trip to Bora Bora'. They sound identical to me.

Today I missed my daughter's field hockey game. The first one ever. EVER. I have never missed a game, play, dance recital, etc., that either one of my kids have participated in...ever. I am heart broken. And there will be more that I will not be able to be present at. It's just the beginning. This next month I will be scarce. Dinner either comes from a box, a restaurant or a friend's house.

The world that spins and the daily events that swirl around it, have caught up with me. I am losing. I ache, I sweat, and if I sneeze or laugh hard enough, I will certainly wet my pants. The furrow in between my once sparkling blue eyes has made me into the questioning, crotchety and yucky assed witch that I knew I would speed up to one day. And I have officially caught up with her and we have meshed into one.

I hate politics, politicians, political parties, political ads, political facebook posts, political bullying and polls, as well as poll booths, toll booths and Polly Pockets. I hardly ever use the word 'hate' but I have grown more accustomed to it rolling off my tongue and yesterday I had the audacity to correct the grammar of the punk working the register at Rite Aid.

I am helping plan my 25th High School Reunion, which is unnatural, as my mindset detests anything that insinuates that I didn't just recently became legal.

My children love me, but need me less and less. The air in my house is distinctly laced with all the teen spirit that can possibly hang on a molecule. I am closer than ever to the cold shoulder, opinions of their friends trumping mine, a sedan, a medication list, a bucket list, bunions, and the early bird special.

Today, I am not me. I am the worst version of myself.  I don't write this on such a day to have anyone in particular feel sorry for me, I just write it because 'it is what it is'. My favorite saying these days. "It is what it is". That saying drives my husband crazy (perhaps why I like it so much).

All of what I include here, does not have one ounce of air of complaining attached to it. I swear. I write it to be honest. I don't write misleading blurbs to force you to read between the lines, or facebook one lined posts that draw you into ambiguity. Today it's plain and simple. Those that know me best know that I would rather poke fun at myself why I am feeling this way ,than actually be serious about it, but unfortunately you (the reader) can not hear me snickering. It's not a full on laugh, just a snicker. Or maybe a quiet cackle.

I could very well be the old lady that yells at you for cutting through her yard. Two days ago I actually went the speed limit on my way to work. My thoughts wander to decaf. And night cream. And wondering where I can buy plastic to cover my furniture.

The point of this is, today I decided to relinquish what I deep down have held precious and dear to me for many, many years. I am coming face to face with my own hard nosed, rough edged approach that I aim at people that seem weak and instead of shooting them right between the eyes with my direct nature, I have decided to join them. To become one with the white flag. The towel. The quitter that I once pitied. I am trying on negativity. I am just in the dressing room and I really don't like the way my ass looks in it, so I won't have it on much longer, trust me.

I have decided after the week that I have experienced laced with hell fire, that I am one of the lucky ones. I will not morph into the the dingy broad. Hide behind my mostly black and neutral wardrobe. Or watch the Antiques Roadshow Marathon until I fall asleep on the couch.

No. I won't. I will not.

I will spin around in a huge about face and thank my friend Sarah for reminding me that writing is important to me and others, and thank Jess, a blogger that I have recently found, for her inspiration. She reminded me that it doesn't all have to make sense grammatically. Typos are fun. Run on sentences rock. Life is not always easy. Weakness is not failure. And questioning yourself and sharing your thoughts (and, yes, feelings. Blech.) can usually bring people together in ways that you could have never imagined. So out it goes into the universe. Off somewhere into cyber space. Go create your own black hole somewhere.

I have decided that the heart of me is resilient and can exorcise myself simply with a rough massage from a girl named Mandy and a pretty color for my toes. Something in the purple family.

Writer's Block be gone.