Juggling Knives

I sometimes feel as if I mistreat this blog, but that is not my intent.  I am just really working hard to build an audience for Busy Black Woman.  I have no idea if my goals will ever be realized, but there is this part of me that feels compelled to try.

That is kind of the way it feels with everything in my life lately--just try until it fails (or succeeds).  But success has been elusive for me and I feel that it is starting to show.  It shows on my face for whenever I look at myself in the mirror a defeated old woman is looking back at me.  And that is new and unexpected.

I realize that what I am going through is typical.  It isn't normal in the sense that everyone deals with unemployment, infertility, care-giving and whatever else is on my plate these days...it is normal that people my age begin to feel the pressure of life.  This is the age when pressure turns into chronic disease, bad habits, gray hair and permanent cynicism.  This is when idealistic people become jaded.

I am unsure how I am going to fare these next few years.  Tonight my back tensed up so much that I was wincing.  I almost have to take a drink in order to relax and that has become scary.  How am I supposed to get through the really rough patches of life if I think I need a glass of wine?  What happens when the wine stops working (like now since I am still very tense)?

I feel overwhelmed.  And I often feel as if I brought all this on myself, not as a way to find material for the blog, but because I fear boredom and idleness more than anything else.  I live in fear of dying on a day when my biggest accomplishment would have been checking my Facebook page.  Therefore, I am booked with activities through my parents' anniversary and then I have a week until Thanksgiving.  Then I have my recital and it just keeps going until January when all of the Centennial activities begin.  I don't know how I am supposed to even start thinking about having a personal life in the midst of all that.

I have already written a piece for the other blog on my trips to a social worker...I just need to post it.  And once that happens, I need to face the fact that maybe I stopped going to relieve myself of the guilt of self-indulgence.  Which is a problem for way too many reasons.  Why should I feel guilty about needing professional help?  Why should I, when the husband runs to the doctor for stomach pain every two months?  I am about to cancel a doctor's appointment next week because I need time to do something else.

And therein lies the real problem.  I am getting really good at knife juggling, but not so good at setting them down to take a break.  Why I should feel some kind of way about an hour a week spent talking about myself to a professional (granted, I felt guilty mostly because of the cost) is beyond me.

So I think I am about to make some very different decisions about my life moving forward.  One change that will take place immediately (next week as a matter of fact), I will go back to getting my hair and nails done on a regular basis.  It is funny that I started getting my nails done as a birthday gift to my mother and for at least four months, we kept at it.  Then she changed her mind and I stopped going after a particularly draining episode when she threatened to walk home.  So one of conclusions I had to reach after that episode and many others is that I need space to live a life of my own every now and then. 

And that needs to be okay with everybody, including especially me.