Fringes

It is February (darn near the end of it actually) and I haven't written anything in over a month. How dare I call myself a writer!

The truth is, more has been going on with me than I even care to write about. I'm afraid that if I start, I'll never stop. I'm afraid that, if I write, I'll feel guilty because I should have been doing something else...like everything else on my to-do list.

Life is like this. A delicate negotiation (I heard this in a movie once...Dog Problem...Giovanni Ribisi). Right now, I feel as if I am precariously teetering on the fringes of sanity. Writing might tip me over the edge.
And it's not the process itself that I fear. It's the content.
Pardon me while I dance ever so lightly around the issues.

My daughter is going through a phase (I hope). Overly talkative and disruptive at school. Unusually clingy at home. Did I do something wrong? Am I an insensitive mother because all I really want, at the end of a long day at work, is an hour of solitude?

If I want a real chance at promotion next year, I must prove myself at work. This means getting more done in a day than I ever have before. But what about the balance I was aiming for? Why are my achievements never enough for them...or me?

My mother vehemently disapproves of my relationship. There is no compromise to be had here. It's either her or him. And I'm not sure I can live without either one.

As for him, well...change is in the air. I thought I wanted it. We're seriously talking about moving forward...moving in. But I never expected it to happen this way. Should we do it for LOVE or LOGIC? I used to vote for logic...the better choice. But now I want love. Can I switch parties on inauguration day?

There it is, in a wildly-spinning nutshell. I'm just hanging on for the ride. When the dust settles, we'll all see who wins.