bitch session

I am so spread thin right now, that I swear I must be invisible. I feel invisible. And a little too in demand. Maybe this should be flattering, this thing where everybody seems to want a little piece of you. But I am not flattered. I am done.

I so want to be available all the time. Present all the time. I spent so much of my life in a self-centered whirlwind. So consumed with my demons and angels that every body else's were trivial - if they even existed in my reality at all. But somehow, I've gone from being the queen of Kate's Island Where No One Else Matters to the servant of everyone else's little islands where no one else matters.

Ok That's a little dramatic. I do have a flare. A small one.

It's that it's my own doing that really slays me. It's that I made the bed I'm complaining about laying in. It's that I forget - dismiss as unimportant? - the need for self-care. This, I've been told, is just another form of ego.

I repeat to myself a soothing balance mantra, but there are monkeys in my head pointing and cackling and dancing about... 'Balance???!!!! You???!!! Ha HA HA!!!!" Stupid monkeys.

I keep thinking that if other people did their part, if other people would just COOPERATE, this would not be so difficult. And as much as I know that I do not have control over what other people think or do, that my job is to keep my side of the street clean, I do have a problem continually cleaning my side of the damn street when other people's messes and demands keep spilling over on it.

Clean your own damn streets, people.

And I will try to breathe.