It's 3:15 p.m. on a Sunday, and once again, I've reached that broken-record moment where I dread the work week and start to ask myself, "Where did the weekend go!?" To me, the weekend is 48 hours in solitary confinement, much of which is spent praying that my kid won't throw a violent tantrum and force me to fight another Autism vs. Neesha battle. Those usually turn me into an emotional train wreck. I've been feeling depressed about never being able to make plans ... ever. I rarely even get to go to the movies. I let my sad body and soul collapse on my sad bed to stare at the paint design splotches on the ceiling, grumbling in despair. I listened to a family of birds tweeting outside my window, wishing I knew what they were saying. Probably, "This bitch never leaves the house. What a loser! Tweet." I heard planes passing over, cars zooming by on the main road, motorcycles rumbling through the area, and I wondered where all the people were going on this beautiful day while I remained locked away in solitude.
I decided to torture myself even more by scanning through all the happy, jolly, I-have-a-life-and-you-don't Facebook stats. I made a mental list of all the impossible things I wished I could be doing instead of marinating in self-pity: lounging on a black sand beach in Hawaii; going to Trinidad to visit my husband I haven't seen in nine months; shopping in Beverly Hills; skydiving and landing in a pool of strawberry Jello-O in lieu of the icky ground; going on a book tour (with the assumption enough people gave a shit about my awesome book); relaxing on the deck of a Mediterranean cruise ship; spending a day and night in Times Square ... Sigh. The wish list goes on and on and on.
When a female is experiencing inner turmoil and is haunted by evils of the past and present. When she reaches a breaking point and feels the walls closing in. When social media becomes a pain instead of an escape. When the phone isn't ringing and the last cookie gets eaten. Where does she turn, if she has no therapist or reliable people around to vent to? Lifetime Movie Network. That's where.
Like an epiphany, I was compelled to turn on the TV and scroll to LMN. To my bittersweet fortune, I was in for a triple feature. First, I watched "The Boy She Met Online," which I thought would be stupid because of the lame title. But it was actually VERY good! A 17-year-old star student with an over-protective mom meets an ex-con/drug dealer online who's disguised as a college student about to "graduate." They meet, fall in love, he goes back to his old ways, trouble ensues, and the plot thickens. I was flinching and making weird facial expressions, the way gamers do when they're playing an action-packed video game. When it was over, I decided to go make dinner but was seized again by previews of "The Wife He Met Online," which was starting next! This handsome bachelor/single dad meets a lovely new broad on an online dating service. She seems perfect, they meet up, rock the mattress then get married. She's a jealous killer with a dark past and so on. Good stuff. Made me feel better about my life.
Thank goodness I have a teen driver who can go pick up dinner. I decided to lean back into my soft, squishy body pillow (that my sister bought me as a substitute husband until the real one finally arrives) for yet a third movie, until it was 11 p.m., Saturday was over, and I had nothing accomplished. I was so enthralled, I even forgot to watch my favorite show, Saturday Night Live! Ugh! Damn you, LMN! I never miss SNL, well, except for that time I was in the ER with a fractured metatarsal. After I was released from the LMN trance, I stayed up until 1:30 a.m. trying to do some work to feel like the day was meaningful, but I keeled over and dozed off with lights on, laptop on top of me and cell phone on my neck. (Not sure how that got there.)
I learned a lot from my days as an X-Files fanatic, so I imagine this must be what an alien abduction is like. One minute, you're sitting on your bed in your PJs, and the next, you're taken away to some other place where you see things you'd never see in real life. Suddenly, you're back on your bed in a daze, reliving what you just saw and realizing you just lost six hours of your life that you'll never get back. That, my friends, is the LMN experience.
As the optimists would tell me, "Stop feeling sad! You don't have cancer. All your limbs work. You actually wrote a book, something you've always wanted to do. You have a loving, new husband and two healthy, adorable kids. You have an excess food supply and unlimited minutes and Internet on your BlackBerry. So, snap out of it!"
I hear you, I hear you. The bottom line is one person's bad day is another person's fantasy, so to each his own! And that is a hint about my next blog post. *wink*
Off to do some book editing, because that makes me happy and makes me money.