A ridiculous fool. I signed up for a writing class. I’m sure I’ll be the worst writer in the class. I’ve been fretting and fumbling through tears for a week. The first class is tomorrow. This will be so embarrassing. Why did I think I could write and let others who know how to write, read my writing?
There is homework. I have to bring a memoir that I admire and that I want to emulate. I’ll bring Anne Lamott. Of course. I should probably pick someone more literary or high falutin’. Nothing will be right. I hope the teacher likes me.
I’m not writing this to get compliments. No need to build me up or make me feel better. You probably couldn’t if you tried.
I’m writing this post in order to bring into The Light the lengths to which Anxiety and Self-doubt will go. Heart and Brain are excited and dreaming of learning and growing. But Anxiety and Lungs and Bladder are a mess. All clenched and fearful. Faith is discombobulated. Right Shoulder has a pinched pain. Dismay is pacing up and down Esophagus.
Oh- I forgot to tell you. I made this new profile picture. Pretending it is my book jacket. I mean, if I want to have an online presence and a successful blog that people can relate to- I should at least have a photo of my actual self. I have preferred the easy way out for years- an image of my beautiful children. I’m striving for growth even though it is completely humiliating to see yourself every time I open Facebook or Instagram. I mean my face – boom. I did my best. I can always delete it. (SHHHHHH! Self Doubt.)
I’m certain I will make a dentist’s appointment tomorrow during my free time. One of my bottom front teeth is shrinking. Or it is wearing down rather quickly. All I can figure is that while I’m sleeping, I grind that tooth. Strange and disconcerting. I should definitely make an appointment for next week. It is difficult for me to see because of my need for magnifying glasses and the unevenness of its partner teeth. Next month will be a good time to go. When things just aren’t quite so crazy.
The kids all went back to school today. Tuck in California. BeBe at UGA. Dolly and George at Decatur High School. Mim at fifth grade. The kitchen has almost recovered from the holiday activity. The decorations loom in a corner. A combination of plastic tubs, a shoebox, and sundry items. When I walk in the room, I have been repeatedly frightened by blow mold Santa, thinking he is an intruder. Christmas is over. The house is back to four of us.
Tomorrow is my writing class. I can’t remember if my antidepressant has a smidge of anti-anxiety in it. It doesn’t feel like it. I should make a doctor’s appointment after I make that dentist appointment and put the Christmas decorations in storage.
Momoirist 