Painting

I hate it when I paint and I end up not liking it. That's only happened twice, but when it happens, it drives me crazy. I finally decided to paint my trim in the kitchen, and turns out... not such a good idea....

What's worse is why I'm painting. Painting to me is therapy, so you know when I whip out a paint brush for a project that does NOT need to be done... well.. then... it's safe to say there's issues. LOL.

I'm a private person in a loud and obnoxious way. I'm me, people expect me to be goofy, and funny, life of the party silly. Therefore, I don't really emote to many people because who really wants to hear it? However, I think I've cried more in the last year in front of more people then I ever have in my life. Although if you ask my best friend Jaime if she's ever seen my cry, and before this year I bet she'd say no. (and I've known her for 18yrs... so it's safe to say.. crying, not really my thing.) lol. So... I'll emote a little here so that ya all know I'm still human.

I went to lunch with my Pastors wife the other day, and she asked me if I had any questions about the church, or for her, or whatever. We talked a little bit about my marriage, or lack thereof, and different things like that. It was a pleasant conversation. But one of the things she asked me was something about the church, and whether they had been a help to me, or what not.

Here's the thing. I couldn't really answer the question. Not because I didn't want too, but I must say, I'm much better at answering questions, direct questions then I am at coming up with any. That's why I tell people, you want to know something about me, ask. Just ask me. I may not answer if I don't think it's your business, but ask! lol. Anyway back to the Preachers Wife, I couldn't really come up with any questions per say.

Then as the day wore on, it started to bug me. Why do I keep going back to church? Shouldn't I have questions? Shouldn't I be searching, or coming up with things that I need to find the answers too? Why do I keep getting up every Sunday, even when the boy isn't around, and drag my sorry self to church? Why do I go on Sunday nights? And the sucky part was... I'm not really sure. I mean... I told the Pastors wife, ya know, 1yr ago, heck 6months ago I was done. I was done with church, and God, and all the stuff that went with it. I didn't really care, because I felt personally screwed by all of the above. (Ooookaaay I toned it down a bit for the Preacher's Wife. lol) But the fact of the matter is, I went to this church, and I kept going back. I'm not sure why, and it's hard to explain but in part it's because it felt right, like home? I'm not sure what the word is. But the fact that I go to church, and pay attention and get something out of it... that's a world of difference from before.

**sidebar to the naysayers about me crying... you should of seen me the first 2 months in church. I RAN out the doors afterwards because my eyes were so puffy. lol**

I can tell the people at this church get it. They're kind, and christian, but not judgy. I like that. There are people in this church that I've probably talked to a total of 15 minutes and they have been kind and helpful in a way that I am just amazed at. I appreciate it, but it's kinda foreign to me because I've not been on the receiving end of this before. Again.. I'm a private person, so when someone ask me how I'm doing, and then stands there and really, REALLY wants to know how I'm doing... I'm just not used to that. I think that's why I keep going back. Because more than anything these people are modeling what Christianity should be. And it's refreshing. It's a place where eventually I can see myself fitting in very well. I can see myself aligning with their vision, and helping them.

Unfortunately, I'm not there yet.

Have you ever felt like something is missing? Like you're doing everything you're supposed to, but you're just not there? Yeah... I'm not there. I think I have a lot more to wade through before I'll get there. I'm not really sure where "there" is... but I'll figure it out.

I also discovered while painting, that I don't like being alone anymore. I used to love my alone time. My walks by myself. My time to get away and sort through life. I don't like that anymore. And it kinda pisses me off. But when I'm alone, and all is quiet, I'm forced to think about things, and things that... I'd prefer to not deal with.

Things like money, or lack thereof,
Jobs, or lack thereof
My son, and whether or not he'll manage through this craziness
Me... am I truly as crazy as I think I am or as certain people make me out to be?
Love... how do I get through all of this without becoming so jaded that I really, truly am just a miserable person?
Church... I think we've covered this one
God... let's not go there right now
People I've loved or do love, or loved me... and the crap that goes with that
People who tell me I'm a bad mom... and then I wonder am I?
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop... things like that

Then I get all sappy (ok.. not sappy about tootise pops, but about love in general... ) and want to watch The Notebook. lol. Mostly because it makes me cry, then I feel better. I was doing pretty good, until the strangest thing happened this week. I saw this couple and they were holding hands, and he had like the biggest hands ever and she had the smallest hands ever and you could just tell... (And how I deduced this in the 15 seconds I saw them I'm not sure) but the body language and the way they walked and his hand the way it was on hers you could just tell... he was protective of her. He was looking out for her. And it took me off guard how much I missed it. I missed having someone actually protective of me, looking out for me, holding my freakin hand. lol

Ok... so my husband never really fit that bill, but other people I dated did.

I'm cool being alone. It's all good. I've learned a nice little lesson here about marriage and such. But every once in a while I miss it. It's like babies... yeah... I'm cool not having one, I'm cool knowing that the chances of me procreating again are like finding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq... I get that, and it's all good.... but every once in a while I'll see a baby and just something it does or the way the mom is nuggling it... I miss it.

So see, I don't necessarily have a heart of stone. lol. In fact when someone gave me a substantial gift this week, just when I was wondering how on earth I was going to get bread and juice boxes for my sons lunch, I cried.

Ok fine... I didn't cry, cry, but I did get all teary. So maybe I do have a heart of stone. lol. But there are certain topics, certain songs, certain things, that will send me over the edge. I'll cry, I'll cry like a baby if ya ask the right question... lol. So I'm not completely hopeless... not yet anyway.

... there's my emoting for the day. I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm not sure that really, it's all that important to share, but there it is.

Then again... maybe it's the paint fumes.. I should close that can up.