Tonight I watched a movie about Walt Disney: Walt Before Mickey. The movie had 4 1/2 stars on Netflix. I was expecting big things. The movie itself was fine, but, honestly, not worth the stars. The stars, really, were for the sentiment.
Keep on trucking. If, at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Get back on that horse. Hang in there (complete with a kitten hanging precariously from a branch). I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
And really? These sentiments are how people succeed. Honestly and truly. KEEP GETTING UP. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. And yet. There are days when getting out of bed seems more challenge than it is worth. Days when being an adult, when doing the RIGHT THING comes with little to no tangible reward. Days when a bottle of wine, a fuzzy blanket and 24 hour pajamas are the best you can muster. Today was one of those days.
One of those days where I found out I have to appear in front of the veterinary medical examining board for an error I did not commit (but an error I am ultimately responsible for - and rightly so). One of those days where I signed a notarized document to destroy my daughter's cord stem cells (because they weren't going to cure my father's Parkinson's Disease). One of those days where I did dishes and laundry and tried so hard to revel in the magic of the world. But fell short. Oh so short. And the laundry and the dishes managed to cavort like a set of lustful rabbits multiplying behind my back.
One of those days when I saw the hate thrown around in the world. One of those days where my shoulders are tense, my ear is ringing and I just can't seem to find my place. Like the prototypical square peg in a round hole I just can't seem to fit and I'm not sure to whom I should register a complaint. God? The Universe?
Dear Sir(s) or Madam(s): I am so sorry to complain. Because, really, there are so many things going right in my life. But at this very moment, Sir/Madam, I am struggling -- with fear. With uncertainty. What if? What if things go wrong? And, on the other hand, what if they go right? Can you please help me get through the next six months? The next year? The next five years? Could you, possibly, send me some assurance that it will all be okay -- really and truly okay.
On days like today being responsible for three other beings scares the living daylights out of me. How can I possibly provide for them -- financially, emotionally -- when I'm not sure I can even provide for myself?
And then I feel another guilt. Guilt for even indulging in this self pity. For God's sake THERE ARE PEOPLE STARVING IN CHINA! What right do I have, as one sitting in a HOUSE with FOOD and ELECTRICITY and INTERNET, to complain. I have no right. Obviously I am in error and quite clearly doing this thing all wrong because I HAVE SO MUCH.
But then, I know, deep inside, that sometimes a good cry, a good and thorough pity party, is necessary. I'm hoping my tears will dredge the trenches and allow for clearer thoughts, new insights and new determination. And maybe tomorrow - pants (baby steps).
So I sit here tonight -- in full pity mode. I will cry myself to sleep. And tomorrow will be a new day with which to carry on.