Ouch Ouch Ouch

I just bit a chunk off the end of my tongue. I think I might need to give up gum-chewing for good. My mother gave it up years ago. I guess I have her genes, when it comes to the way I chew gum. It’s just that I like gum so much. It makes me happy. And when I’m happy, I chew pretty vehemently. No, I take that back. I guess I do most things pretty vehemently, whether I’m happy or not. If I shut a cabinet, I want to hear it shut and watch the other cabinet doors bounce on their hinges as if to say, “Welcome back, fellow cabinet. We’re glad you’ve come home.” If I put something down on the counter, I want to hear it hit the counter and watch it bounce into whatever might be so unfortunate to be in its way (or fortunate, depending on your point of view). When I type on this little keyboard that I’m typing on right now, I want to make each and every keystroke resonate with purposefulness as though it matters for eternity. I am an on-purpose sort of gal, if you will. Anything worth doing is worth doing vehemently, I always say. (Not really, but as an interesting side note…when I was little, I always read that word with the accent on the third syllable so it always sounded like “vee-hu-MENT-lee” in my mind. I also said the word “determined” like “detter-mind,” in case you were wondering.)

Anyway, now I’m sitting here with my mouth filling up with a mixture of blood and saliva because I am unwilling to swallow it. It’s nothing new. I do it at least once a week, either on the inside of my cheek or the tip of my tongue. The tip of my tongue hurts worse. And now it’s getting all swollen and feeling kind of numb. I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat anything.

And I was really looking forward to the taco salad that I’m making for dinner tonight.

Things About Me

I have some disturbing qualities that I would just like to get out in the open here. I am not bragging either. I’m a little worried about myself. There are things I like to do that probably are not the best things for me to do. In fact, many of them are downright physically painful and I do them anyway. I would even go so far as to say I ENJOY doing them. I’m wondering if I’m alone in my psychoticness.

Thing Number One: I use a certain face wash on my face twice a day. I will not change face washes because I love how it makes my skin look and feel. But every single time I put it on my face, a burning starts happening in my eyes. It starts slowly, kind of like a seep. Then it spreads into what can only be described as a feeling of toxic gas being poured into my open eye sockets. The weird thing is that I don’t even get the face wash anywhere near my eyes. I make wide circles around my eyes, only washing cheeks, forehead, nose and chin. Yet somehow, the fumes rise, seep and eventually make me feel like I might be going blind. And I like it. Yes, that’s right. I’m not even remotely tempted to wash it off at the first burning feeling. I like to let the burn spread until tears are literally pouring out of my eyes and the whites have turned a purplish color. Something about crying that hard feels good. Is this a problem, I wonder?

Thing Number Two: I like to take spoons and put them in my mouth on the outside of my teeth, toward the back, curved towards the gums. Then I close my mouth and create a suction that is nearly impossible to break. I’m not gonna lie, people….this hurts like a son of a gun. Weird, huh?

Thing Number Three: I like to flip open my cell phone and flip it shut on my nose. Sometimes I leave it there, clasped to the end of my nose while I carry on serious conversations with my daughters. I don’t think they even notice it.

I could go on but I’ll leave it at three things, I guess. I won’t go into how I’ve got my bare feet pressed up against my space heater under my desk, right now as I’m writing this post. Really…they’re actually TOUCHING the burning hot metal. It hurts.

And I also have this weird thing that pops into my head unbidden all the time. This is something I don’t actually want to pop into my head, but I honestly can’t help it. I think it’s like my biggest fear or something. For some reason, I always imagine really sharp scissors cutting my teeth in half. I want to scream even now, just writing about it. Of all the things listed here on this ever-so-important post, this is definitely the one that I never ever ever want to try.

Sometimes I think a straight jacket would help.

My Life in Pictures

Since I’ll have nothing to say again, ever, I’m going to show the week that just happened in pictures instead.

Although I will say that today, this very day, the one that we’re experiencing right now, is the day that the mama of my youth was born sixty years ago. What a day that was. It forever changed my life. I love you, sweet Mama. Happy Birthday.

And now I’m done talking.

Leakage

I am feeling really drained lately. I’m not sure where the leak is or in what direction the trickle is headed or what the fluid is that’s being siphoned from inside of me. I just know that something is pouring out of me and I don’t know if I want it back or if I need to just go ahead and move forward without it, even if I’m only half-fueled.

Sometimes I think I have nothing left to say. Surely I can’t just keep writing about songs that make me cry and movies that make me cry and things that my kids do that make me cry and how my heart feels like it’s either being clamped or being ripped from my chest and how my endless pursuit of peace seems more like a war most of the time and how this river keeps moving me farther along, sometimes tumbling me violently over jagged boulders and sometimes letting me float for a while, but mostly getting me very, very wet. And coffee. I write about coffee a lot too. I am tired of writing about these things. And sometimes I think that people who read these things I write about might not know that I am actually a pretty happy person, deep down. But alas, I can think of nothing else. It seems it has all been said already.

I think that life has slowly but surely pushed me into a new chapter. And I’m not sure if it’s one that I can write about. The last chapter was writable. I found a great release in writing, actually. But now I am finding that although there is much going on, the things that I am able to say are limited. My kids are getting older. They read this blog sometimes. They are beautiful and complex, each of them uniquely made by a creative and loving God. And the energy required of me to navigate these waters is huge. It surpasses whatever I had in reserve that was driving me to come out of my shell for a little while.

I am realizing that my moments are less and less my own these days. And in those rare moments, I am having more of a desire for solitude than for openness. I’m not even finding much time to get the camera out or work on music these days. And the truth is, I’m really tired of talking. I feel like I’ve talked more in the last two years than the whole rest of my life put together and now I’m ready to quit. Only I don’t really have that option. Because there’s a lot that must be said. If nothing else, I must continue to respond to almost all sentences beginning with “Mom….” And I will respond to most of them. Late into the night. Even though I’m so tired.

I guess all moms everywhere go through periods where they are intensely aware of their capability for destruction and the responsibility can sometimes seem impossibly overwhelming. I guess that’s when I’m really thankful that these precious lives were never really mine to begin with and I can move forward with confidence in the only One who really knows what He’s doing around here. And I am moving forward. Even if it’s by a strong current that’s not giving me any choice. It just keeps bouncing me along, pulling some loved ones toward the ocean with me and leaving others farther upstream, allowing them to enjoy their own refreshing water without me. And still others have passed me and gone on ahead, around the bend and out of sight. And that’s okay. The less people that are around me, the less I’ll have to talk.

I just wonder if there’s a way to stop the leak that I seem to have sprung and refuel.

My Meaningfulness Exceeds My Usefulness

I’ve been meaning to go to the grocery store since Monday morning. It’s not that far away. It’s just around the corner. But stuff keeps happening that prevents me from getting there. And oh, I just love my new nephew so much.

I’ve been meaning to start exercising more and stop eating so much sugar. It’s just an act of the will and nothing more. And I am nothing if I am not strong-willed. But this Chocolate Duet cookie that I’m enjoying right now is just oh so yummy.

I’ve been meaning to get my taxes done so we can get our refund as soon as possible. And believe me, I’ve been working on them. I’ve been working on them so much that my eyes are seeing squiggles. But I am getting nowhere fast. I run into problems at every turn.

I’ve been meaning to get this house clean once and for all, buy my daughter something for her birthday, and plan activities for my in-laws coming to visit next weekend. But all I seem to be able to do is clean up throw-up, administer Tylenol and Gatorade and wash every bit of bedding in the house from three sick kids. Oh, I just love those kids so much, but they sure can throw up.

I’ve been meaning to figure out where exactly to go from here. Tomorrow’s Friday and I still haven’t been to the grocery store. Somehow I don’t think I’ll make it again.

I’m trying to figure out if I really care.

Oh, I just love these kids so much.