TV was easier

For years I have been lamenting over how every moment of every day was filled with kids, and chores, and work, and school, and having to pretend.  For years I have been craving time to myself.  Any time.  Even if only in moments. 

But I wasn’t being honest with myself.  The time, it did come.  Even if only in moments.  There were times when the house was quiet, and the lights low.  The glow of the salt lamp on, the hum and scent of the diffuser filling the air.  I could do whatever I want.  I thought about putting on music that made me breathe deeply, made me think, made me feel.  I thought about my hands holding a book, the words seeping through my skin and into my veins.  I thought of glasses of good red wine and baths so hot your skin stings.  I thought about being alone with my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, my fears.  I thought about all those notes on my phone that are filled with ideas.  Things to write, things to get out.  Things that need to be written, things that need to get out.  Things that have haunted me for years.  Things that are haunting me still. 

And I turned on the TV.  Every time. Over and over again, the TV.

I have been turning the TV on for years.  For years while I nursed babies and fretted about fucking them up beyond help.  For years while I finished college, and cleaned toilets, and made meal plans I never followed. For years while I feared. For years while I cried when I was alone. Because I was afraid soon I wouldn't recognize that person in the mirror looking back at me.  But still, I turned on the TV.  Because, TV, it was easier.  It was easier to watch TV then to feel.  It was easier to sit, and think of nothing, to feel nothing real.  It was easier than admitting I had thoughts, and hopes, and dreams, and fears.  It was easier then admitting if I failed to recognize the person in the mirror, I alone was to blame.

So I sat.  I watched.  I didn't think, I didn’t hope, I didn't dream.  I didn't fear anything, anything but myself.  I didn't feel.  Because TV was easier.

Until today.  Today I sat, Today I watched.  But a song came on the TV.  A song that used to make me breathe deeply, make me think, make me feel.  My heart it ached.  My stomach sank.  And I found myself smiling, my cheeks hot, a tear falling warm onto my chest. 

And I turned the TV off.

I poured myself a drink.  I turned on music that made me breathe and think and feel.  And I picked up the computer.  And I wrote.  My heart beat loud, fast, hard.  The pit in my stomach, it grew.  The tears, they continued, off an on, hot and feverish.  Because I knew this may hurt.  I knew there were things to write, things to feel.  I knew that it was easier to watch TV.  But I didn't want to.  I wanted to feel.  I wanted to hope, and dream, and fear.  I wanted to feel.  I wanted to feel like me.  I wanted to look in the mirror and know who I was.  I wanted to write.

And so I did.  And so I will.


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