There's a sound cloud of embarrassment and confusion hanging over my side of the bed. I'm pretty sure this could be useful as, earlier, I was on moralistic high ground when R screwed up. I felt offended and afraid and I lashed out without giving all that much (any?) thought to my responsibility in the situation.
But I'm not there right now, not able to find the helpful humility because my mind keeps looping on tracks of shame and worry.
Thoughts via color
I'm writing now in hopes of finding peace.
I'll begin by publically acknowledging that I botched up. Here's what's keeping me awake: No. 1- I posted a toy lovingly gifted to Briggs on facebook with the caption "to give ". I meant this for a private site. I apologized, she was gracious. I feel like an ass.
No. 2- I was accepted to present at a conference in February. I never responded to the invitation because I feel overwhelmed by the logistics of getting there. I don't know if it is worth the expense and inconvenience for my family. I dread the conversation with R. The possibility of his feeling like it isn't important feels painful. The possibility of his openness to it feels scary. I worry I'm taking up too much space, too many resources. I worry I don't have anything important enough to say. There is an email in my inbox extending the deadline for confirmation. The decision I hoped to have dodged is undodged, my cowardice resulting in annoying inconvenience for the conference organizers no doubt. I feel like an ass.
Thoughts via form
Actually, I resonate with donkeys, their strong sense of self-preservation and the way they get violent when threatened. I'm pretty familiar with that gaurdedness that slowly eases into stubborn companionship. They're scrappy animals. The other thing about an ass is that they're loud.
Which brings me back to my two faults that are keeping me awake. In both these things, I'm called to a boldness that I yearn for but don't feel ready to accept. I'm asked to converse in a language of authenticity but I'm wracked with a compulsion to please. My listed transgressions are not really the things keeping me awake. Really, I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid to unapologetically step into the fullness of being this particular person. I'm afraid to be that wonderful, that messy, that flawed, that wild. I'm frightened of the implications of being specifically noteworthy or notorious. Sometimes, like tonight, I can't get small enough. I'd like to thin myself out into a translucent sheet of near-nothingness. "Good" behavior allows me to do this but failure makes me live in the weight of my body. Ass-behavior lets me clash, to remain opaquely visible in all my donkeyish glory.