where wildly different is perfectly normal
The post I didn’t write
The post I didn’t write

The post I didn’t write

This is the post I didn’t write.

I was writing about gifted advocacy but after reading and re-reading, decided that a fire-breathing post on how pissed I am about the marginalized role of parents in the advocacy of their children, wisely decided to let it go. I am angry about it, but I’m not an angry person, and my fire-breathing shall not burn any bridges.

So this is the post I didn’t write.

This is the post about how if I make it through NaBloPoMo intact this year I’m going to party like it’s 19-freaking-99. I’ve had rough Novembers before, but holy goin’ to hell in a hand basket, this one takes the cake.

This is the post about how I really need to get on the ball for Christmas gifts, as we’re celebrating Thanksmas with Tom’s family in a heart-stopping week and a half. I have purchased precisely zero.

This is the post about how I am actually starting to dread weekends, simply because I see how much I’ve had to put off until those precious two days. Same with evenings, because then I’m not laser focused on what I’m doing at work, and have to face the crazy.

This is the post about how I wish I could live in the moment more, as these crazy days are my life and I want to enjoy them. But I’m too wound up cleaning up yesterday’s ABC and planning for tomorrow’s XYZ in hopes that it goes smoothly that the NOW gets lost in the shuffle. And I don’t want to get to the end of my days wondering where my life went.

And this is the post about how I’m tired. Very tired. This year is going to go down in the history of the House of Chaos as the year I didn’t lose my mind when by rights I really should have. Honestly, all.year. We started telling our friends we were moving on New Year’s Eve, began packing up the house that week. Our house went on the market mid-February, Tom moved to Chicago beginning of March, we finally moved mid-summer, and the last four months have been a head-whipping parade of unpacking and new school and new issues with our house and new job and advocating for A and the hits just keep on coming. I know I’m strong, but while I appreciate the sentiment of being told that, I’m afraid my head will blow clean off in a cloud of good intentions if I hear it again. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of a lot of things. Mainly tired of being tired.

So this is the post I didn’t write.

It wrote itself.


  1. The strongest steele is tempered in flames, my friend. In the meanwhile, wine can make the burn easier to bear. Since I don’t want you to end up with a drinking problem, I can handle the wine part, you know, because I’m generous like that.

    Seriously though, hang in there, it will get easier.

  2. Oh, I locked myself in a closet for fear of punching the lights out of the next person who called me ‘brave’. I SO hear you. This is your life: you suck it up or you die. Strength and bravery have nothing to do with it!

    One idea that I’ve heard some have success with is the Clean Slate. Basically, you give yourself permission to cross some big items off your OMG haven’t I done that YET list *forever*, thereby cleaning mental and emotional energy for other tasks. Hasn’t worked too well for me, but then I manage to feel guilty about just about everything anyway.

    Either way, you are down to about 45 days until 2012. Hang in there.

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