March 17th was a bad day. What started out with green waffles hit stride when my left sinus had a total meltdown. Yes, that too was green. My corned beef and cabbage was a hit, except that I cried discreetly through most of dinner (and anytime we were in the car, and when I was in the shower, and when the boys were playing outside). But I try to look on the bright side. Only once did my head feel like it was going to explode, fracturing into a million little pieces so quickly you could still see my face, long after it had blown apart.
I yelled at the boys twice. Oh, the chaos! I thought about duct taping them to the wall at one point, but on the way to find the tape I took note of the ever-growing collection of fur balls scattering around the floor, pausing only if they got stuck in other assorted dirt. I spent the next hour cleaning and lamenting my present state of affairs.
I ran through it all. How could you have done this to us? For four years? That qualifies as a double life. That’s one giant leap up from an affair. How could you deny it for two months after The Pocket Call until I found hard evidence? How could you lie so much for so long? How could you introduce The Happy Dance Chick to our children? How could your mother friend her on Facebook? And what the hell is happening here? My whole world is shifting so fast.
It’s fair to say I worked those questions over for about 9 hours. All that effort and emotional upheaval got me not one answer. Zip. What it got me was a racing heart, a pounding head, a lot of sadness, and the feeling that I blew the day. I handed one to The Genius.
So I sat down to write. I recalled the night, at my Mom’s house back East, in November, when I decided to write this blog. I thought of one name: His Giant Mistake. (At the time I was, and still am, listening to The Parlotones. The inspiration came from their song, Giant Mistake.) The URL was available. First shot. When does that happen unless it’s something like www.unclejunipersliquifiedrocksalt.com?
From that point on everything pertaining to this blog has flowed. I don’t procrastinate, I am energized by writing even if what I’m writing about is draining, and the benefits of being kept sane by writing can’t be overstated. I’d be a tattered mess if I didn’t have HGM. It grounds me. It makes me laugh. It gives me a safe place to cry. The outpouring of love, support, guidance, and some finely crafted prose which makes the comment sections of this blog arguably more fun than the blog itself, has deeply touched me.
I thought by writing HGM I would simply have a place to shake it off, get my words out, and be creative. I didn’t expect it would become a massive group hug that helps me to stay on track, be present, and accepting of myself as I twist and bend through this reality. It’s better than daily therapy, which is really freaking expensive, so know that I am eternally grateful.
A bad day is coming to a close, and it’s done a 180. I have a smile on my face. My muscles are slowly shedding the stress of the day. I feel lighter. All because I got to come spend some time here. I have so much to be thankful for in the here and now that I just can’t ignore any longer.
It’s time to start living the life I create for me, with my boys.
Thanks for being here on a day I needed you.