Tuesday, 12 May 2009

If I Were a Fish, I'd Be a Flounder

This morning I was so cold that I sat in my car and cried and cried and CRIED so hard that as I was crying I thought, "Hell Eden, you need to do an Annette Bening in American Beauty and slap yourself." Then I cried some more, couldn't compose myself so had to drive back home to my messy bedroom and turn the heater on and cry. Good thing about crying is, you eventually stop.

Then I looked for a snippet of Annettes slapping scene on YouTube, couldn't find it but instead found a guy impersonating it. Here is me in my car this morning:





Which made me laugh and laugh and now I feel a bit better.

Why the cry? Working my butt off, all morning, to get to a massage appointment. My friends pitched in and got me a voucher for my birthday, I have not had a massage in YEARS. I tried, last year, but it ended badly before it even began when the person wanted to know every detail about Daves condition and then told me "chemotherapy can exacerbate tumours." I walked in today, on time, and was made to wait - and wait, while the lady finished talking on the phone. 15 minutes passed ... I was looking around at this beautiful shop filled with zen-like objects and dreamcatchers and Buddhas, thinking how if it were ME on the phone I would have politely asked the caller to hold and then serve the customer. Then I was given a form to fill out, and THEN I was brought back to the room, by a really nice girl. She left, I stripped down to my undies, looking around for dead bodies because obviously I was in the morgue.

It was freezing.

And she left me lying there for so very long, waiting in the freezing room. Mortifyingly, I started to cry. She came back in, I was already up, putting my clothes back on. It was just too cold, even if she started the massage anyway. It was too cold and I'd had enough and I had to get out of the room. I was really nice to her, she felt bad and it wasn't her fault. I just get very badly triggered when I am ignored .. I spent my childhood being ignored and it damaged me in some places that I can never fix.

So I got in the car (after being accosted by reception-lady who is obviously the boss .... now you want to talk to me?).

And sat in my car and cried and loathed myself for getting so upset when climate change is a very real threat, the financial crisis is looming, people are living in war torn countries and poor Widdle Eden didn't get her massage boo hoo!!??

LOSER.

AND: Last night the baby was up for three straight hours, 11pm to 2am - and I had to just rock him gently back to sleep and it's hard - motherhood is hard and I am not full of kindness like some mum blogs are.

I've had a spate of nasty comments and emails lately - I already HAD haters who are reading here (memo: why??!) ... but on the weekend I stepped into a minefield by addressing an anonymous comment on somebodys blog to defend my friend about an issue that is very close to my heart. Somebody started trawling my backposts, leaving snarky comments about stuff I have wrote. I enabled comment moderation, then thought fuck it. There is nothing anybody can ever say to me that is as bad as the stuff I say to myself. And also, I try not to take myself too seriously - life is too important for that. This is why I blog about my failings, my nosehair , and my manhands ..... it's just a blog, not the fucking Declaration of Human Rights.

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Once when I was in the car, I turned to Dave and told him that if I were a fish, I would be a flounder. I just flounder around, in life. Unorganized, unkempt, foggy, vague. Then he kept calling me flounder, all day. Thought he was so funny .. till he had some cross words with the kids, and I was all like, "Ooooooh, if YOU were a fish you'd be a snapper. Snapping at people. Snap snap. SnappppEEEEEEE".

Then he shut up and I shut up and then we fought over the radio station and I won because he listens to fricken Vega and there is only so many times I can listen to Supertramp.

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Now I must go and do the grocery shopping for five people, thinking up bold, new and healthy recipe ideas for the week. HAHAHAHAHAHAAAHA.
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