Oh, Woe is Me! Part 2

Underneath my gloomy pessimism, lays the soul of an optimist. The problem is that soul is wrapped in a shroud of crazy. I hear you doubting my claim to insanity, so let me illustrate my point.

I have a some dirty clothes laying on the floor of my bedroom. I'm sitting at my desk, typing, and every so often I glance over at those jeans and shirts and socks. They're looking at me, I swear. It's like a dog, with big, liquid eyes staring at me, starving, and I hold the bowl of kibble just inches from it's nose. That laundry wants to be clean, I know it, and I'm denying it it's destiny. Which means it's going to stare at me until the guilt overwhelms me, and erodes my motivation to do other things.

What's really going on is a conversation in my head between me and myself. It goes something like this:

"Pick those clothes up. It's so easy to just take them downstairs and throw them in the washing machine."

"But I worked most of the day, and now I'm sitting down relaxing."

"No, you're not, your writing, which is working. If you can work on that article, you can work on that laundry. It'll just take a minute. Don't be lazy."

"But isn't this more important? After all, I'm honing my skills, fine tuning my craft. My writing is relaxing AND working. It's my dream, and I'm following my dream. That takes precedence over laundry, right?"

"Dream, schmeam, you've got housework to do! You think those jeans are gonna wash themselves? And what about that kitchen floor that needs to be mopped? You can't always pawn the work off on your husband and kids. You know what I think of you 'honing your skills'?" (At this point I give myself a giant raspberry)

"But I'm more than just a mother, wife, housekeeper. I'm a writer! That's what I live for."

"A writer, hmm? So, you've gotten to the point where you can quit your day job and do this for a living?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Aha! Then get up off your butt and do that laundry. And speaking of your butt, didn't you just buy a pair of jeans one size bigger? When you're done with the clothes and mopping, you need to exercise!"

"Shut up, Rose."

"No, you shut up."

See what I mean? There's a constant battle inside my head. Some days, Mary Sunshine wins. Other days, Debbie Downer takes the prize. A lot of the time, I spend so much time dickering with myself, I don't get anything done.

Lately, Mary Sunshine has been coming out on top a lot. Which isn't to say Debbie Downer isn't taking home some victories, just not quite as often. And it isn't because I haven't been buying into her dialogue. No, I haven't gotten that healthy!

Instead, I've been learning to use what she's giving me. She is neurotic, paranoid, depressing and annoying, but she is damn funny sometimes. She gives me great material. I'm learning to write down the things she says, instead of doing what she tells me. I'd be doing laundry and a myriad of other chores in lieu of writing this fine piece for you to read, if she'd won the battle.

Another victory for Mary Sunshine.

I don't know if this means I'll be able to shrug off that crazy-shroud someday, or if that optimism will completely take over. But I'm kind of hoping it doesn't happen. If I lost that part of me, I would lose part of my creativity, part of what makes me so fabulously complex. I would lose the part of me that keeps my head from floating off into the clouds. I would lose my rationale.

Instead, I think I would rather embrace both parts of me. Accept who I am and enjoy the ride. Use the many pieces of me in my art. Take the good and the bad. They're both a part of life, aren't they? To deny it would be crazy.

Maybe I'm not as insane as I thought. After all, I never did do that load of laundry.