Solitary Confined Cheerleader

Spring Break can not come too soon! I'm tired. Seriously, to the bone, tired. Tired of listening. Tired of talking. Tired of trying to make people happy. Tired of working things out. Tired of being positive. TIRED!!

I miss my alone in the loft writing with a bottle of wine by my side, ME. The girl who loses herself in a sentence for two hours until she sees the bus stopping in front of the house dropping off the kids. The girl who waits two hours when she really, really, REALLY, has to pee because she can't pull herself away from the click click click of her own typing. The girl who sits in the silence.

Writing is truly the part of me, I like the best. I miss all of it.

I haven't even tried to write any of the ongoing projects. I need to reread everything I've written before I can even begin, and by the time I'm done with reading, my time is up... I need to be able to dive in, head first, remember the stories, meet the characters again. I just don't have the time right now.

My son just finished his basketball season. It was eight weeks. I didn't even try to meet any of the other parents. I went to the games and cheered him on and then left. No time or desire to meet or care about anyone new. BIG SECRET -- I didn't even bring snacks, not once... nothing.

My little girl is starting soccer. The good news is, I already know all the parents. I know them, but do they know me?? Do they know, I'm not really listening when they talk about their vacations, about their jobs, their spouse trouble? I can't really help myself. My mind is too full of other things.

I actually find it odd when people can be involved in trivial conversations.

"So, how's the dog training coming?"

"OH, not so good. Benji peed on the carpet nine times yesterday!"

"You poor thing!"

"The vet thinks he may have a bladder infection."

I tuned out at Dog Training.

I often wonder, if my present personality were evaluated what the diagnosis would be, not ADD or ADHD, I'm not OCD (well, maybe a little). Honestly, I think other than down right RUDE, I might be considered somewhat Autistic. Autism by definition means: a developmental disorder marked by impaired social interactions, communication difficulties.

I have learned to cope. I can play the game. But really, I live too much in my own head. In my Happy Place. Somewhere, where I don't have to be social or gracious or polite, where I don't have to engage in idol chatter, somewhere deep in my imagination where no one cares what I say or do or expects anything from me.

Pretty shocking admission from a former Cheerleader, isn't it.