A Fresh Start

I don’t know if I can write about Carri anymore. (Goodness, it hurts to even write that statement.)The last few days I keep getting this feeling that she doesn’t want me to focus on our past anymore. She never did like being the center of attention.

 I think she’s been ready a lot longer than I have for me to find my voice and live a life apart from hers.

So, Carri, I shall let you have your way. I’m going to try to be my authentic self and stop using you as a shield behind which I hide my unexciting life and I’m going to find that excitement you always seemed to carry with you and sprinkle a bit of it upon myself.

 And how about this? (You’re really gonna like this part, Carri) I’m going to write about it. All the crazy ideas, the weird dreams, the family melodrama, the soap opera that my life sometimes morphs into, all the things I used to share with you to entertain you…I’m not going to be keeping them to myself anymore like I have for the last 11 months.

I wonder how they’ll like me after they really get to know me the way you did?

Like, how will your more sophisticated friends feel when I tell them I’ve always been a little bit on the psychic side and am obsessed with dream interpretation?

How will the hardworking Moms out there feel when I admit that I feel no shame in enjoying (what’s left of) a good soap opera and that your wish for me was that I go out to New York or Hollywood to write for one of them?

Will anyone think I’m weak or cowardly because I haven’t been able to watch an episode of Desperate Housewives because it’s the final season and I just can’t bear to say goodbye to one more thing you and I shared?

Ohhhh, how about my addiction to four horoscopes a day before I leave the house?

And how I’ve always felt blessed to be a Scorpio cause I think that’s the best sign of the zodiac?

How I can’t carry a tune in a bucket but still dance around my kitchen belting out “It’s Raining Men” as if I’m on a Broadway stage?

That my kids are my whole world but this “non-stop talking” phase that my eldest daughter is going through is enough to make me double “ Van Gogh” myself (He’s the one who cut off his own ear, right?)

Will they still like me without you to put a good word in for me, Carri?

Will the Vegans dump ketchup on my doorstep when they find out I enjoy Chicken Fried Steak?

Will the intellects heckle me when they find out that this Blonde actually laughs at Dumb Blonde Jokes?

What will the Conservatives say when they discover that I’m not embarrassed to talk about the functions of the human body (I’ve got kids, for Pete’s sake) or that I think a good Sex Life is one of the keys to life’s greatest happiness. (Okay, I’ve got to admit- I’ve become somewhat  Conservative in the last decade  and can’t believe I just typed the “S” Word, myself!)

Will they think I’m off my rocker when I write how much certain colors make me feel almost giddy? (My two personal favorites are Thousand Flushes Blue and Tropical Punch Kool-Aid, not together of course)

Oh, Carri, I’m beginning to worry that maybe you truly were the only one who could know all this stuff and not have me carted to the Loony Bin.

And how bout all those people who say they never dream at night? They’re going to think I’m making everything up because I’ve never forgotten a dream in all the years I’ve been having them every night. How shocking will it be when I relate the craziness and zaniness of my subconscience?

But something is telling me you want me to do this and something in me says that I need to do this if only to keep it from staying bottled up inside. As my gassy (but classy) hubby always says “There’s more room on the outside than the inside.”

This is gonna be fun….