Toenails

Staring down at my tanned knees, I release a breath of relief. Physically and mentally. Mentally, I think that was my last breath. I need relief. It’s 93 today. Heat index of 103. The house feels nice at 72. Trimmed toenails decorate the space between my feet. *sigh. I vacuumed today. I can’t keep up. I’m not enough. Or am I too much. This might be the straw. I think I’m broken.

I cooked lunch. I’m trying to be a good mom. He’s a great dad. They love him. They respect him. I demand that they do. He has earned it. I think I have too. I’m temporarily consumed with defeat over something minute so maybe I haven’t earned it. I cleaned the kitchen, that didn’t rock my mental boat. Nor did the laundry or changing the sheets. It’s just trimmed toenails. I need to buck the F@&! up. I cuss too much.

I respect that he tries to look nice for me, although it wasn’t looks that drew me to him 22 years ago. I do the same for him, lucky for me genetics keep me young…ish. Living over 40 years of life ain’t no joke, things are quitting on me. I don’t know life without him. He’s soul is perfect. I love him for that. Mine is not. He wouldn’t love me if he knew how different. I’ve never asked him, but I know. What is self love? My family loves me. God loves me. Surely some of my friends do to. Why do I need love from me? I think I’ve given all my love to give. Does it grow back? Replenish? What do I do if it doesn’t? He deserves better than me. They all do. I am

not terrible. I could be better. I’ll try harder.

Against my best efforts to remain positive, I deflate; then make a mental note to sweep up the nail trimmings later. Yes, I believe that thought process is positive. It’s not negative at least. Whatever you have to think to keep up your life, right? Living a life for others is exhausting. I am whatever is after exhausted. This can not be how things were designed. It’s the only way I know. I can’t quit. I have lots to do. After I spend the rest of this afternoon with my family. After we laugh and play; making core memories. (Our kids are big. Not many years left with them all home.) After I’m a mom. After I’m a wife. After I’m a friend. After I work 40hrs/week. After I “help” with house work. (I’m too anal for a housekeeper.) Then, I’ll fix me. 

I love Jesus. I love my husband. I do love him. I love home. I love our kids. I love our life. I love sleep. I love social media. I love not-thinking. I love fantasizing. I love not remembering. I love remembering. I love too much. I don’t believe love is enough. If it was, no one would have gotten divorced in the 70s. I remember too much. I fantasize too much, I blame social media. I’m too old for this. 

I don’t know what I would do if my mind wasn’t this way, always at war. This can’t be normal or sane for that matter. I talk to myself too much. That’s what I’m doing right now: pretending I’m talking to a small crowd. I imagine you’re all thinking I’m crazy or not making sense, or not sober. I’m not or I am. Aren’t I? I don’t know anymore. 

They say that you are never alone. But that’s subjective. I’m never alone. I like it that way. I love people. Even the ones that are dictating this story. The ones in my head. They are not strangers or different people. They are all me. All my thoughts are mine. They contradict each other. They agree to disagree. All the time. I am so tired. Why does my brain play all the parts in the play that is My Life? Are there more like me? (I hope not.) Or am I alone. I don’t believe in “normal”. That’s also subjective.

I’m done. I quit. I’m ready to run. I’m ready make a change. Trimmed Toenails brought me here. To a breaking point, seriously? Have things really gone there, to a place that would wreck my world? Self sabotage. I’ve identified my toxic trait. 

Six months ago, this incident would have been insignificant. It’s getting worse. I can’t hide it much longer. I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t let it get exposed. It would hurt him. That’s the last thing I want. Me? I could care less. I don’t have a reputation that’s all mine. I’m attached to him. I need him. I crave him. 

He would look at me differently. My kids would for sure. Moms have a standard. I fake it well. Would they pity me? Have empathy? Be angry? Would they isolate me? They wouldn’t understand. It’s only toenails anyway. I’m a mom. I’ve dealt with worse. Way worse. 

I can’t live without him. I have to see my kids everyday. Those two things are non-negotiable. I can’t jeopardize that. I’ll swallow it again. Hide it just below the surface so it doesn’t suffocate me. I’ll pretend. 🎼Put a smile on your face🎼 Do I make the world a better place? Doubtful. It comes out in my eyes. He can see it. He sees it too often now. That’s not good. I have to fight that. I’ll do that later. Right now is all I can handle. 

🎼Snap back to reality🎼 I love music. I can tame my thoughts. I’ve done it 1000 times. I can do it 1 more. It’s becoming harder. It’s now or never. I like ultimatums. I chose now. For now. Smile on. Positive thoughts. Renewed mission. Live the life I’ve been so graciously given. The life I choose every day. The life that I imagine isn’t mine. The life I love. The life with toenails on the floor.