Telling the Truth

 So I'm a little bit sick tonight. I started to get a headache, and then my nose started running like it was practicing for a marathon. I should buy stock in Kleenex! And I was achy, and my chest started to hurt and I'm sure a lot of other symptoms appeared at least temporarily which made me feel like I needed to quarantine myself from EVERYBODY,

So I cancelled my housekeeper from coming tomorrow and I am wondering... was that the point? Did I get sick so I could do that and feel okay about it? I just feel like I need tomorrow alone, to myself. Not really sure why but boy I am good at making up excuses...

Tomorrow would have been my brother's 65th birthday. He died (took his own life), in 1986 at 30 years old. Then the day after is my birthday. Number 68. I will have traveled around this sun of ours a full 68 times and starting on number 69 on Friday.

I think I am really tired of lying to myself about things, but I am not 100% sure what the lies all are. It feels like every time I open my mouth or think a thought that it is not absolutely based in the truth. That is somewhat disconcerting to me, or is it really? I guess I've 'grown accustomed to it's face.' so I don't even know any more. It's kind of like when one says they feel fine out of habit when really they'd love to beat someone or something to a pulp. I always think of Emma Thompson in Love Actually when she sees her husband at the airport and says 'Fine, I'm fine,' when you know she wants to say 'I hate your fucking guts how do you think I am you lying loser asshole?!?!' And under that is "I'm in pain. I'm hurting. I haven't figured out how to move past this yet."

I think that tomorrow I will do everything I can to be 100% honest with myself and others. I could get into a lot of trouble, but it could prove to be an interesting day!

The miracle in all of this is that I feel like I'm a baby chick hatching out of an egg, or a novel being birthed, and like Chris Baty says in No Plot? No Problem.: "When your novel first peeks its head into the world, it will look pretty much like every newborn: blotchy, hairless, and utterly confused." So maybe when we start to really want to wake up and see who we are (which is all going to be amazingly wonderful even if it looks like a pile of steaming manure in the moment - or a blotch hairless utterly confused mess), if we really go for it, it's going to be beautiful. I can't wait... I will have to wait, but I'd like it to just appear whole, and perfect right now! (damned impatient human that I am)!