Somehow, I managed to lose sight of the fact that the first Thursday of August was also the first day of the month. So, I blew my assigned date for the first time. However, my editor was gracious enough to allow me to fill in a blank spot on this month’s calendar. So for August 2013, I am posting on the THIRD Thursday rather than the first. Thanks, Megan! You can click here to read the rest of this rather strange essay. My husband says it sounds ever-so-slightly Sybilesque (as in the multiple personality case made into a book and a film many years ago). See what you think:
So, here’s the truth. Unvarnished, and throbbing.
Inside my head, there is a crazy person, a woman who runs around, wringing her hands, spouting out worst-case scenarios for every unknown thing in my life. I swear, there are days I can feel her stuttering footsteps banging against my brain, her worried hands dropping balled up pieces of Kleenex just behind the hippocampus.
I don’t like her much and I surely didn’t invite her in. But there she is, alive and well, thriving on all my insecurities, worries and deepest fears.
Did I mention I don’t like her?
And that fact does not seem to trouble her in the least. The woman never takes a hint. She is relentless, and surprisingly nimble. I’ve seen her leap over hurdles of monumental proportions. Hurdles like reason, intelligence, even clear evidence to the contrary of whatever it is she’s obsessing about at the moment.
And energy? This girl never sleeps! She inhabits my dreams, interrupts conversations, gets louder when I get quiet. To tell you the truth, she runs circles around me, and when she is doing her thing, I end up exhausted and empty.
She does take breaks now and again, and that’s always a relief. Earlier this year, in fact, I thought maybe — just maybe — she had moved out for good. I actually enjoyed several months of rest from that incessant jabbering in my head.
But this summer? Man, she showed up big-time, complete with roller bag and backpack. I think maybe she plans to stay a while and I’ve gotta tell you, I’m seriously bummed. Because this ‘guest?’ She is no friend of mine. I so enjoy practicing hospitality, but this one? I’d like to kick her to the curb. Hard.
In the middle of the most amazing family vacation we’ve taken in years, I turned around one day and there she was, earnestly trying to convince me that we were getting too old for this kind of thing, that our kids and grandkids no longer enjoyed our company, that we were on the outside when we desperately wanted to be on the inside. And oh, yeah, that I was the dorkiest grandmother of the century, big, awkward, loud and b-o-r-i-n-g.