“But the beginning of things…is necessarily vague, tangled and chaotic…”
-Kate Chopin (1850-1904)
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I have no idea where to begin undoing the knot that is my life and am even sure how it even came to be. I pull one part, and other parts of the knot tighten…breathing becomes shallow and my palms sweat. I start awakening at in the middle of the night with the dreaded 3:00 am thoughts. Obvious that whatever I pulled was the wrong thread to tug on…
I try to shove my knot aside. Pretend all those mangled, wildly colored threads all screwed up together are really a perfectly ordered life- a gorgeous knitted, oatmeal cream sweater bought in a raining little village in Ireland. Look at me, I have it TOGETHER! (or rather PLEASE DON’T!) My life in the moment is not the truth. I know it is not. I know it is knot.
Four days ago was Beloved’s birthday. Gorgeous friends, gorgeous meal, gorgeous children beaming at their dad, gorgeous moment. Oatmeal sweater from Ireland gorgeous. Except, it wasn’t. I stole the whiskey I gave him as a gift. Stole it right from the cheery, glaring “It’s Your Day!” birthday bag and sucked it down in the pantry. I only stole the whiskey because I had already drank all my vodka while furiously cleaning the house, barking at my children and slamming together a “neverfail” meal that always seems so much more than it is.
Whiskey down the throat. Hiding in the pantry. A wife, a mother, a woman with a secret inhiding. I. Have. So. Many. Secrets. Secrets and truths and stories that run through my head, my life. What a tangled web I weave…
But no more. Daring Truth. I am daring myself to tell myself my truth. I am done pulling the little threads of my knot. It is time to get the scissors out, the pliers out (hell-the chainsaw and blowtorch out!) and really get to detangling these truths, half truths and no-where-near the truths that have all been woven together into this thing I am not even sure is my life.
Daring Truth 