I remember writing it. I know it was completed. I even remember checking the spelling, copying it, pasting it, and scheduling it for publication. Yet for all of that, the post has been lost. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but after two days of searching through all 301 of my posts, I am now convinced that it is gone.
And while I was calm yesterday, I am anxious today because of it. It seems so… unfair. Perhaps it was my fault. Perhaps I didn’t actually post it to my blog. But I remember. I remember that when I was finished, it said that it was scheduled for release in 21 days.
I thought, “Good. Now I am far enough ahead that I will be able to keep up despite my summer vacation.” I can’t write when I am away at the lake because there is no internet there. There is no electricity there save a few solar panels to provide light at night, and charge up cellphones and such – not enough to keep my laptop going, anyway. So after seeing that I was three weeks ahead in posting, I felt relieved.
So because I wrote that on Tuesday, and because I was three weeks ahead, I didn’t feel a need to write on Wednesday or Thursday. Only when I went to save my post yesterday, it said that it was scheduled for release in something like 17 days. That is when I started looking for it.
I remember that I hadn’t intended to write that morning, but that I went downstairs to try and organize the “blue room.” I call it that because I painted the floors blue some years ago. When we moved in, it was a workshop. When I had the daycare, it was the “food room.” (we also did crafts, baking, and science experiments in there.) When I had my children, we put in a door, and it was a bedroom. In the winters, I would move my rabbits and guinea pigs inside, and it would be more of a barn. But lately we have been using it for storage, and it is the ‘blue room.’
Although I have organized it in the past, it continues to become messy and cluttered. Everything throughout the house that I don’t know what to do with gets brought down there. And that mess weighs on me as all mess and clutter do.
Tuesday morning I woke up early (for me) and decided it was a good day to organize. Fifteen minutes later, I was so overwhelmed I could hardly function. Not only was the mess too much for me to deal with, but along the side of the wall under the windows, the concrete is turning to piles of powder. This has been happening for a few years now, and it reminds me of how everything falls apart, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make things right.
I have been expressing my concern to my husband over this since I first noticed it. He talked to a couple of people who thought it was likely the drain pipes around the house needed to be flushed out. So we did – and he forgot – and meanwhile the concrete keeps turning to powder, and in my head I hear, “my house is falling apart around me,” and it makes me want to cry… no. It does make me cry. I can’t handle the corruption of the world, whether water damage in a basement, or people who do evil things.
It is all too much for me.
There are times I just want it all to wash away, and to start over. Start new. Start with a life, and a house, and dreams, that are not falling apart around me. But then so much would be lost in starting over, and that would break my heart even more.
And then my post is lost, and I think, “will nothing I do ever work out well?” All is broken. All is failing. All is… lost. One thing reminds me of another, and something tiny like a lost post can trigger pain over all I have lost, and it all seems so unfair.
And that unfairness is overwhelming, and where I come wanting to say I am doing well, instead I fall apart. Again.