The time of reckoning is nearly here. I'm not sure if everyone does this, but at the end of each year I feel obligated to take inventory (ie. self-flagellate). Otherwise, how would I come up with my New Year's resolutions? What pressure!!!! No wonder I actually felt relief after declining my New Year's Eve party invitation just now- the likes of me doesn't deserve any down time!!!
I think back to years past when everything LOOKED OK, even impressive. I had a decent job, I owned a nice house in a happening neighborhood, I owned a reliable car, dressed fairly well and looked reasonably presentable. The only thing which could have been construed as slightly unusual was that I never seemed to have a stable relationship with a MAN. There'd be the occasional boyfriend; that's it. I used to say that I chose to be single. Was it really a conscious choice?
These days, the appearance is not so good. The house in the hip hood was sold and replaced with one more family-oriented, even though we are not a family; we are a diad, my child and I. The house personifies chaos- even the landscaping is quite wild. That same car now looks old, really old. I look disheveled.
The difference is that now the world can witness my struggle. I wear it. I drive it. I show it. What you see is what you get. And if you don't see it, the child will undoubtedly tell you about it, much to my embassassment.
No more secrets.
Happy new year.