Yankee Drawl

Posted By jayna on August 30, 2011

Down, down, down in the dumps we go. How shall I climb out? Damned if I know!

I sat crying on the phone with my husband this afternoon as he dutifully assured me that it was perfectly fine to have a good cry about missing out on something that gets looked forward to for an entire year.

He’s actually really good about feeding the supportive lines to his wife when she’s nearly sobbing and looking for validation. Even if he thinks it’s completely bogus and I’m mildly insane, he tries.

The kids were closed in their bedroom here at Grammie’s house, playing as quietly as they know how. Naps seem to be lost when I’m in charge, so we’ve resorted to quiet time in hopes of at least one of us catching a rest.

It never works. Especially on days like today, when I’m still sniffling from disappointment. Sitting on my bed, I sulked over spending frivolous amounts of money on printing my photos, matting them and entering them in the county fair – the one I enter every year – only to be turned away at the door because I was late.

I talked to the man in charge this morning, assured that I would still be let in, especially after driving 8 hours just to get there. Promised I would have my chance to be judged as I had been awaiting all year. Anticipating the only competitive thing I ever do anymore, hoping to be proud of myself for what I can do.

But he changed his mind, after I spent the morning readying the pictures and driving extra half hour to the fairgrounds. Turned away because he changed his mind.

So, home we came to eat a quiet and uncreative lunch. Up they went to their room, quickly, knowing things were just not right. And then I cried. And sulked and began falling down, down and down.

“It’s for the best I couldn’t enter, as my pictures are terrible anyway. No one wants to see that. Boring and uncreative garbage. Just like so much else I do. That stupid blog. Boring and uncreative. No one reads it anyways, that’s plain to see. I’m nothing that I used to be, not smart or funny or witty or worthwhile. I can’t even get my kids to nap, I fail at making my husband dinner, and I’ll never finish anything I’ve meant to start. That silly business. I haven’t turned on my sewing machine in three months, and no one ever buys anything I’ve made anyways. I should just sell it all, the fabric, the camera lenses, the sewing machines. Forget the plans for new projects, take all those photography things off the Christmas list and shut it all down. Turn off the blog, empty the store, close up the Flickr. No one would notice anyway. . .”

Down. Down. Down we go. The girls are still playing in their room, because I haven’t the heart to get them out and make them sad because I just can’t play with them. The pictures will sit in the car, because I haven’t the strength to pick up the box and not cry about it again. And the rest . . . the rest . . . I don’t even know.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can only try to start at the top again. And perhaps be a little more rational with it all.

(this is not a cry for pity or validation or anything of the sort. this is only me saying “i don’t give a crap who reads this, it makes my head a little bit clearer to simply let it out. here. in my space.” it is also, admittedly, some crazy 8 month pregnant lady fueled ranting. so be it.)

Categories: She Writes!
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