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The brutal truth of me, without all the sugary coating.
Here I am just me, UNCUT and UNEDITED.
I talk about my family, my divorce, and a lot about MAKEUP.
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Friday, September 10, 2010

If I were a better writer

At 9 pm I climbed into bed, feeling like I was carrying way too much weight on my shoulders. I couldn't wait to watch an episode of Scrubs and then sink into sleep.

When I turned on the TV, I found football on the Scrubs channel. Football might as well be a snowy channel with no signal, so I turned it to Fox News instead.

Now, you should know I don't watch the news. That's right, never. A lot of people feel like I am denying reality or trying to "shield" myself from the truths of the world... It really bothers some people that I am unwilling to watch or read the news. I am generally seen as naive as a result. It's quite the opposite, actually. I find that I am too aware of the harsh truths about society, and that's what keeps me unable to tolerate having it thrown in my face. My life and the immediate people and events involved are already too much for me, and the painful parts of society tend to affect my ability to cope day-to-day a little too much.

So there I was, changing the channel to Fox News and thinking, "This is a bad idea. I'll hurry and change it." I didn't have quite enough time. Before I had a chance to change the channel, a picture of two beautiful little kids popped up on the screen and I heard the anchor say, "...strangled them to death."

My husband tried to save me. The words, "Honey, change the ch-" had already come out of his mouth, but it was too late. He had to tell me that those children's own mother did that to them.

Two hours of sobbing, hyperventilating, and what felt like a heart attack later, my mom shoved a Lorazepam in my mouth and a glass of water in my hand.

Fifteen seconds of news threw me into the worst panic attack I have ever had.

But this post isn't about what a baby I am.

If I were a better writer, I would be able to describe the feelings I experienced tonight. I would be able to tell you how the air was stolen from my lungs, how my stomach churned and my eyes stung with instant tears. I would be able to tell you how I was sure I would never stop crying for those poor children, how I hysterically sobbed in my husband's (confused) arms, crying, "I don't understand, I don't understand." How could someone do something like that? If I were a decent writer I could explain to you the suffocating feeling of injustice I felt for them.

I don't watch the news because, when I know too much of the truth, I don't want to live in this horrific world at all.

And you know what tomorrow is? That's right, the 9th anniversary of September 11, 2001.

1 comment:

  1. You're a great writer! However, I know it's difficult putting feelings and thoughts down on paper...the words never seem to do them complete justice (at least in my case).

    I don't know all the details about what happened to those two adorable kids; but I know enough to know that their lives were unfairly taken from them and it's heartbreaking. I think one of your gifts is your ability to both sympathize and empathize with and for others. You have a big heart, which is a truly admirable characteristic - however, living in the crazy world we do totally justifies you and anyone else in avoiding the gruesome details of real life.

    Thanks for your posts, I read every single one of them.


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