Okay, okay, my Staycation from blogging is officially OVER! Happy? Keeping in mind that my gym didn’t buy one minute of ANY of my many excuses for my absenteeism this summer, I won’t try to play ya’ll. Oh and thanks for all of the messages that ranged from “umm, is your website working?” to “umm, is your brain working?” The upside to all the queer queries? I learned I had a few more fans than I realized.
The truth is I don’t really have an excuse for putting a DO NOT DISTURB sign on my computer screen (while still hoping the maid would still come in and tidy up). My summer was busy, but whose wasn’t? And it’s not like I wasn’t inspired to write. I find inspiration EVERYWHERE (especially at Tory Burch), but in all honesty, writing for me is just like learning to ride a bike- except for the part that you remember how. Every time I put pen to paper I pray I can take off running with my thoughts- and hope the process of getting my point across feels as exhilarating as the day my dad let go of the metal handle attached to the back of my blue Holly Hobby bike.
I get rusty. It’s natural, right? Walk away from something (with the exception of chocolate and Entorage On Demand) and sometimes it’s hard to find your way back. When I do force myself to put a few words to paper I end up thinking really Kristi? This is the best you can do? In a huff, I go back and read old blog posts in hope it will remind me of my awesomeness (Slow and Steady is pretty fantastic if I do say so myself). What ends up happening is I read and think oh there’s no way I can duplicate this amount of genius! Kidding about the genius part, but you catch my drift.
It doesn’t help that I’m the kind of girl who loves the one she’s with. If I’m working on my novel, in my mind my blog doesn’t exist. Blogging has me forgetting how to spell my main character’s name. I guess my one remaining brain cell can’t be expected to multitask.
Hold the phone; didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to list off all the reasons I allowed the batteries to run out on my Bluetooth keyboard? Urrrrrghhhhh I see that I can’t help myself. What’s left but to make an excuse for all of my excuses?
I was recently interviewed for a piece on autism moms, and boy was that an eye opening experience. I found myself backpedaling after nearly every question, or at least wondering did I really just say that? … and why the hell why? Ever leave a job interview wondering what the fuck just happened? That’s exactly how I felt, without the luxury of knowing I made an ass of myself in front of just one person.
Once again my penchant for requiring excuses came in to play. For example, I didn’t want to complain to the interviewer that at times J.R. just wont SHUT UP and it drives me to drink- what if a mom of a nonverbal child gets wind of my rant? Would I be able to request the interviewer insert asterisks after each of my responses? What would my asterisk explain? How’s this for starters?:
*note: interview subject is a complete self absorbed loser, but thanks for tuning in
At this point, I swear I remember so little of what I actually said during the sit down, but I DO recall thinking no matter what, I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. For example, I didn’t want it to appear that my husband and I hadn’t involved J.R. in any interventions to improve his condition, so when the question came to therapies I put an actual dollar amount on our efforts. People need to know what autism costs families, both emotionally and financially, right? Wrong! I can already hear the sound of viewers picking up their tomatoes, ready to take aim and scream at least you have the money, you bitch! The term is actually had, as in past tense…but adding in that caveat would pose the question then how are you able to pay for that cute blowout? You obviously didn’t do that yourself. Foiled again!
Excuses are my crutch; I see that now. I don’t want to look a certain way (i.e., lazy, uncaring, snobby, smelly (I do lose out on lots of showers)) so I provide an “answer” for how I MAY appear. Sounds exhausting, and it is. My biggest problem? Maybe I am just too lazy to write, too sleepy to secure J.R. an Occupational Therapy Evaluation, and too uneducated contribute much to the autism community. What’s wrong with that? In my mind- lots. In everyone else’s- probably not much. It’s called being human.
Raising a child with autism (and his sibling who is obsessed with asses) is hard. Trying to come up with unique excuses on a daily basis as to why I don’t excel at it? Lame and overplayed. Ultimately, I need to learn to quit trying to save everyone’s feelings (certainly my own) and just apologetically “be.”
I’ve found that writing helps me stay sane, so I’d better get back to what I know. Why is it that I find such solace in putting my stories to paper? The delete key silly!
Damn I’m good.