Set aside your shopping list, put down the garland, drop the mangled lights from your hands and gather round. I’m going to let you off the hook. I’m going to allow you an indulgent break where you will feel so accomplished just for thinking about what your annoying Elf on the Shelf is going to do next. I’m going to tell you all what I’ve been up to since I quit my job last March.
Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Sleeping. A lot. Drinking more than occasionally and probably more than anyone should. Feeling guilty about not going to the gym. Reading. Sleeping some more. Subscribing to no less than 10 life coaches for daily uplifting emails. Yes, my husband is ok with all of this. He just wants me to be happy. But mostly, I’ve just been sleeping.
Note: I still have 2 children at home. So it’s not all bon-bons and 6 hours of the Today Show. At least not every day.
This past week was different though. I finally got off the couch and enrolled in a writing seminar. We were given an assignment to write something. Imagine that. Dammit. I thought I’d be able to get away with just taking the seminar and procrastinating and hating myself for being lazy and never writing because I like to sleep all the time.
The assignment was to write something scary. Not Halloween shit scary. Scary as in something I should be afraid to tell the whole world. Not an easy task, I get nervous updating my Facebook status. I started thinking about all the Holiday parties coming up and the inevitable conversational questions of courtesy, “What have you been up to?” That is a scary question.
So, I’m ripping off the scab and being honest. Nothing is more frightening than being completely honest. Maybe I am just a worthless piece of crap? Maybe I take advantage of my husband’s love and just sit on the couch. Maybe I subscribe to those life coaches so I can read uplifting emails to make myself feel better about my laziness. (They “help” me feel good about sleeping all day.) Maybe I’ve traversed this road before. Maybe I told my parents years ago when I dropped out of college after my first semester, “I’m just trying to find myself. Now how long will you pay my rent?” Maybe I found myself pregnant soon after but, hey – everyone’s path is different. Maybe now I’m lost. I mean maybe I’m really fucking lost. Maybe I hated a very good therapist for telling me – “You’re not getting any younger, maybe you should find yourself and what you want to do pretty soon.” Maybe I was really angry he would say that. Maybe I thought he was a dick. Maybe I’m a Renaissance woman and I just need benefactors. Maybe I’ve got amazing shit to do.
If I can get off the couch. But it’s so God Damn comfortable. I’m embarrassed to admit it. The floor is cold. The couch is warm and familiar. But I still have nothing better to say at the next holiday party. Maybe next year I will. But first I guess I should try something. Anything. Maybe…
Now go ahead and pick up your shopping lists, string your lights and deck your halls. Arrange your Elf on the Shelf next to your 4th batch of homemade cookies. I know you have things to do. Don’t you feel better about yourself already? You’re welcome. Now if you will excuse me, all this self analyzing has made me very sleepy.