Re-View of myself (Part of SOCS)

So Linda has set the challenge for her SOCS (Stream of Consciousness Saturday) to have “Re-” as it’s theme. For those who are unaware of SOCS you can read more about it on Linda’s post. The hardest thing for me is writing without editing afterwards.
So I have chosen ‘Review”.
What of this week?
Was it good? Was it bad?
You will have noticed that I have been quiet the past couple of days. I haven’t written a post but I have been reading and commenting on blogs. Reading and commenting takes less effort than thinking of something to write.Oh, there have been words running aimlessly through my head. Don’t you worry about that. But actually being able to capture them and pin them down to a page has caused more hassle than you would believe.
My First Born asked me this morning “Are you in ‘negative Nellie’ mode”? To which I replied “I believe I am”. We chatted some more and then she suggested I call her back when “Positive Polly” comes back to visit.
I don’t like being negative. I don’t like wanting to burst into tears at any second without any reason. And I don’t like feeling as if the world is conspiring against me once again as I continue to tread water (or swim around and around in the milk bucket like that frog I blogged about a week or so ago). I’m waiting for the milk to turn to butter but wondering if it will ever happen.
I felt that if I couldn’t be positive then I had no reason to blog – and so I didn’t.
Part of that was because my back went out on me a couple of days ago and only decided to behave itself and come back home this morning.
I spent much of yesterday lying flat on my back in bed and trying not to move too much.

This week I have felt pain for others. I have been touched by the stories I have read. And I guess I have taken a little too much of that upon myself.
I have been angered by some of what I read (both on WP and social media) and I have learned that social media can hurt.
I inadvertently upset a friend (I think) because she couldn’t hear my tone of voice as I made a comment on a post. And then I was kicked in the teeth by the response of a stranger on a comment on a post about suicide on an Australian newspaper website when I told her that I was sorry she was so down and I hoped she would find joy in her life one day in the future. She lashed out at my comment and it hurt.

This week, I have been visited by my old friend ‘insecurity’ once again. I doubt my abilities and my hopes to make a difference in this world.

I have been listening to an audio book “Holy Cow’ written by Sarah McDonald (an Australian journalist) and read superbly by Kate Hosking. I have been entranced by the words and the imagery they invoke. And I have laughed out loud at Kate Hosking’s ability to read with so many different accents. It has inspired me to write but each time I attempt to pick up the pen and place it on the paper, the words run away and hide. I have resorted to whining in my journal.
I’m sure the day will come when my children, or grandchildren, pick up my journal and attempt to read it. Once they have worked out that I write in a different type of cursive than they are used to and can decipher it they will find a woman who really likes to whine about her lot in life sometimes. Not sure if that is the kind of legacy I wish to leave for my children and grandchildren but it is me. And writing is my therapy.

I have castigated myself for feeling the way that I do and know that I need to put on a happier face and pull myself together. I need to find “Positive Polly” and bring her back out into the sunshine. However right now I am wondering just where she is hiding.
Maybe I will find her today at the local show hidden behind the fairy floss and the dagwood dogs. Maybe she is in sideshow alley with it’s laughing clowns and balloon games. Or she is screaming blue murder on the rides that throw her every which way (but loose). Maybe she will show up when the fireworks light up the night sky and the children all gasp and beg for ‘red’, ‘green’ or ‘blue’.
Maybe, she will follow me home as we walk to our car after the night program has concluded. Tired, bedraggled and footsore.

Maybe.