Mumsaid

I am 40 years, 8 months, and 20 days old as of this post.  To everyone else, I am a grownup.  Adult.  Woman.  But somewhere inside of me I hold the belief that everyone knows better than I.  Everyone knows more.  Everyone knows How to Be.  This makes me feel very small, figuratively speaking.  When I was five, I wanted to be a veterinarian.  I loved animals, especially dogs and horses.  Somewhere in my growing up I stopped wanting to be a vet, but nothing else really replaced that aspiration. Except art. I loved art, all kinds, and would spend forever drawing my own comic books (where those are now I have no clue).  I remember my Crayola lazy-Susan style utopia of art supplies.  I sat at the yellow counter in my basement playroom and Made Stuff.  In high school, I took every art class St. Joseph's Academy had to offer.  I wouldn't say I was great, but I loved it. College came around and I went to Portfolio Days l...

It's back.  That dark cloud that follows me around.  That shadow of mine that drags me to the ground.  The thoughts.  The heavy weight on my chest.  It's back. I'd like to pretend it wasn't there.  I do a very good job of this while out of the house.  So good, in fact, that one day at work my entire body was taken over by shaking, tears, and dread as I told my boss and coworkers what a good job I had done so far.  That wasn't my Greatest Day.  That also wasn't my Last Day even though I really thought it ought to be. Lately I can't seem to figure out what to do with it so I get into bed.  That's where I am right now, actually, with Pattergirl on the floor watching videos and the lights off.  It puts me in pajama pants right after school.  It tucks me in at night as soon as it can after dinner.  And it wakes me up with panic in the middle of the night so I can check the clock and see how long until I have to get up and b...