When I say “see what I mean about comments,” I’m picking up a conversation from about 5 million years ago (October) wherein I casually mentioned in a post that I should save the long-winded comments I tend to write on other blogs and use them as blog posts here because that would save me a lot of time, and I’m assuming you remember this statement because my words are so piercing and haunting on my posts that once you read them, they stay with you forever. So that’s what I’m talking about if you don’t know.
I was over commenting on Classy Kim’s post, I Think I Just Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, the other day (which was actually 3 months ago because that’s “the other day” to me) because she was having a mental breakdown, and I wanted to comfort her. I saw a friend in need, a friend who was questioning her own sanity, and I wrote to assure her she wasn’t actually going crazy by relaying my own rather common episodic mental breakdowns.
It went a little something like this:
Kim had locked herself out of the car and couldn’t find the keys, which is when her body overrode her mind to fix the situation, and she said: “Was I really so mentally distracted that the part of me responsible for unconscious bodily functions like breathing and blinking, stepped in and said, ‘Jesus do I have to do everything around here?’”
And I said:
“Um, yes. This type of shit happens to me aaaall the time. Maybe not as bad because I haven’t had to call the Pop-A-Lock guy, but I have developed a kind of low-grade dementia since giving birth to my first. There’s just too much going on all the time that we can’t keep everything in our heads anymore. Yesterday, as I’m waiting for the doctor to call because the night before I had such severe back pain that I dropped to my knees, and my husband wanted to take me to the hospital, but I wanted to wait and call the doctor in the morning, the dentist called about my appointment that was at that very minute. Shit. I explained I got distracted because of my back pain so I had to reschedule the already rescheduled appointment, and the day the office wanted to reschedule it to I wasn’t available because the appointment was for the exact same time my son had an appointment with another doctor, which had already been rescheduled so I couldn’t reschedule it again. It’s just plain cray cray out there. PLUS, you were really sick. If we can’t cope with all the demands on a good day, how can we be expected to on a bad one? Don’t fault yourself.”
Ok, so it went exactly like that because I copied and pasted it here. And that’s what I’m talking about when I say I should just save up all my comments and write them down as blog posts because that’s one long-ass comment, and I sure as hell don’t feel like retyping that whole thing into a blog post.
Then while understanding this very thing about myself, I wrote another longish comment on a post, A Girl Has to Have Standards, by Abby Has Issues. Again, I’m a helper, and I like to be there for people, providing the emotional support they need and just the right encouraging words of wisdom in a time of crisis or struggle or dating.
In the post Abby describes the exact moment she knew it was over between her and the guy she was dating and realized she was happier being on her own with standards than being with someone without them.
And I wanted to commend her decision, support her independent spirit and praise her confidence and self-respect. In short, I wanted to show solidarity (I can’t help it if I’m already married). So I said:
“Tracy on the Rocks makes a good point. As I am no longer single I miss the days of staying up as late as I want and not having to tolerate ‘picking or grossness of any sort.’ I have to tolerate a LOT of grossness, and it wears on a person. As far as the golf tee for a toothpick goes, my husband never did that – not in my presence anyway – but I wouldn’t put it past him. But as the very wise Steve Harvey (he has a day time talk show I catch at the gym) pointed out men are like rough clumps of clay you have to sculpt into something… tolerable. My husband is a very sweet person, but I’ve been chiseling on that lump for YEARS, and the work is still not complete.
I’m also a firm believer in not settling. Far too many people get married for the sake of getting married, and that is never a good idea. If you don’t think a man who picks his teeth with a dirty golf tee is the one for you, then it’s time to move on.”
That was really long, too, and would make a good blog post so I again copied and pasted it here. Then I recognized a pattern. I’m a regular Dear Abby. I’ve got tons of great advice! So if you guys have anything going on that you need guidance on, shoot.
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