It's funny you should ask

When the cool women who run The Parent Bloggers Network asked if I'd be interested in participating in this blog blast, I was all over it like white on rice.

What the heck does that saying mean, anyway?  Probably something offensive, knowing my luck.

To promote the new social networking site Sk*rt, (If you haven't checked out Sk*rt yet, it's a way to bookmark your own and other posts as well as follow cool blog posts, news articles, and really, anything on the web. You can vote on your favorites and leave comments), I'm to answer this question:

What's hiding under my sk*rt? 

This is such a great question.  My answers would be depression, anxiety, feelings of failure, and the most massive juggling act this side of Barnum and Bailey.  Surprised?  Lots of people would be. I hide it well, these (thankfully infrequent) black days and nights of doom. I am frequently complimented on my seeming ability to have it all, to keep the balls in the air and add a new one every so often, swapping out the faded ones with nary a hitch. Most days, the balls travel smoothly through the air, passing each other with just inches to spare, floating along in space, light as gossamer butterfly wings.   Once in a while, though, those balls crash and pound, raining to the ground, heavy as lead bullets, forcing me to hunt for that lost umbrella to protect myself.  That dumb umbrella is probably buried in the van under the sippy cups.

Those crashing days are not that common.  I've discovered that I can keep them at bay with exercise and good food - not the chocolates and ice cream that my spirit craves, but the lean proteins and veggies that my body and mind needs to be strong.  When I feel the blackness encroaching, I try to stay ahead of it with an extra mile or three.  It doesn't always work.

No one sees inside, where I struggle.  On one of those days, if I'm out and about and a friend avoids my glance, it causes an ache deep inside and I obsess for the rest of the day.  Most likely, she was deep in thought, and if questioned, she'd deny even seeing me.  I know that's true - it's happened enough.  On those days, I can't make myself ask the oh-so-humiliating question, but burrow deep into myself like a splinter.  Upon hearing the good news of another person, my self esteem tumbles - what's wrong with me, why wasn't I given the same prize? 

On those days, misbehavior on the part of my children is not shrugged off, and seen as age appropriate, but rather a case as to how I've messed up yet another area of my life.  A job lost, an argument with a spouse, a grocery store out of my favorite peanut butter - 29 days out of the month these are trivial inconsequentials.  No more than a blip on the radar. 

It's just that one day of the month that I'm fragile.  Easily broken. 

I drag myself to bed, defeated, broken and frustrated.  I lay on my back and stare into space, feeling the burning in the back of my eyes.  I will not succumb to my misery.  I will not.  I will NOT feel like I'm less than worthy, just because others are more successful than I, because they are more popular and well liked.  I repeat over and over, "I am a a worthy human being, doing great things in my own way."  Over and over, until I snooze, worn and exhausted from the heavy feelings I've carted around on my shoulders.

And the dawn breaks and I rise and stretch and find that peace has been restored.  My mind is solid, my spirit refreshed.  The day before fades into the distance.  I'm back to my own whole self, happy to be my own best friend and fulfilled with life.

It's just that one day of the month. 

____________________________

This post is my entry into the "What's hiding under your sk*rt?" contest, promoted by The Parent Bloggers.  As Julie says, "If enough people are sufficiently entertained by this secret that I divulge or the manner in which I divulge it that they vote for me on sk*rt and I get more votes than anyone else?  And if I get more votes than anyone else, then I win a ton of goodies, including jewelry and books and tees?

What's not to like about that?  Won't you please go here and vote for me?  Please?  I planto ask you all to vote every day between now and Friday, 11:59 p.m. 

Please?  Go to sk*rt and search for the post called "It's funny you should ask", and just click on the number next to it.  I'd love to win the gift basket.  Click here to vote for me.

Thanks.  I really mean it.

Comments

[dana]

Beautifully written. :)

[mrogers]

The click here link comes up blank. Over at The Parent Bloggers your link comes up blank. I tried to vote but couldn't.

[dink(y)]

Oh, good lord, Carmen, THANK YOU for speaking up.

Today, I don't feel so alone.

[rachel]

Thank you for admitting that. It's so good to not feel alone.

I'm working up the courage to talk about it on my blog. Mostly because my mom reads about it. But there's a reason why depression and chronic illness are often related - being in pain all the time sucks.

I completely relate to what you wrote. every word except for the "one day a month" part. If it's period-related, I have a supplement suggestion that has helped several friends.

[Meritt]

Gol darnit. Another clique I wasn't asked to join. LOL.

[Daisy]

Your honesty is refreshing. Once in a while, life throws a watermelon in with the tennis balls, the whole juggling act falls to pieces. Your post shows that so well, yet adds that life goes on.