Hello, Self

Remember back before Christmas when I wrote a post called 13 Days musing about how I was going to fill my time for the days I was off from work for the holidays? Well, one of the things I did was to clean out some of the drawers in a desk that's in my office ... my mom's old desk. And yes, I shed more than a few tears that day, but I also laughed out loud more than once, too, like when I found a baggie full of bread bag ties ... Mom had a thing about bread bag ties. But I laughed the hardest and the longest as I read some things that Mom had written in a small notebook, a notebook that I had only thumbed through shortly after Mom passed away and then placed it back in the drawer. I wasn't ready to read it in detail then, and honestly, I forgot the notebook was still in the drawer. The page that absolutely cracked me up? The one that said, "People I would kill if I could get away with it and not go to jail." No, really ... I'm serious ... that's what Mom had written at the top of the page, and then she had ... well ... more than one name on the list. I laughed until I cried ... my mom was indeed quite the character.

While the wannabe killer note from Mom made me laugh, there were also pages in the notebook that made my heart ache ... like the page where Mom had taped a picture of her and my dad with the words "I miss you, Atticus," written beneath it. But there was one page in particular that has stuck with me ... a page where Mom wrote the following words ... "I talk to myself a lot now. I guess that's what happens when you get old and live by yourself." As I read the words, I could picture Mom in the house I grew up in ... I could see her sitting in her chair in the living room, puttering in the kitchen, dragging the garden hose to wash off the porches. And as I read the words, a new picture formed in my mind ... the picture of Mom chatting to herself in the empty rooms of her home after Daddy was gone.

I hadn't really given much thought to the whole talking to myself thing until I read Mom's words, but I've been paying more attention since I found her notebook. And since I've been paying more attention to it, I've discovered something ... I talk to myself ... a lot. The truth is that unless I'm at work, I spend most of my time at home alone with my dogs Julie and Oliver. And guess what? My hounds don't talk. The more I've thought about it, in fact, I've come to realize that there are more than a few evenings and weekends when I don't speak to another human at all. But I do talk to myself ... and I should probably be more than a little frightened that myself often talks back, too. Like this morning when I looked in the mirror and said, "Hello, self." And myself said back, "You look like crap today."

Now that I've put those words on paper ... well, not really on paper, on the computer ... it makes me think about the significance of my mirror conversation this morning, "Hello, self ... you look like crap today." It makes me think about how often I look in the mirror and try to see myself ... how many times I try to find myself ... how many times I try to love myself. It makes me think about how many times I tell myself that I look like crap ... not on the outside, but on the inside. On the inside where it matters. On the inside where it counts. On the inside where it hurts. 

Here's the thing ... the lesson I think I'm supposed to get from Mom's words ... I think I need to get out more, I really do think I need to get out more.

"What do you think, self?"

"I think you need to put on some makeup and do your hair first ... you look like crap tonight."

"Gee, thanks. Way to make me feel good about myself, self."

"You're quite welcome, Terrie." 

P.S. Many of you have asked to see a photo of me from my office holiday party. I don't have one by myself from the night of the party, so here's one that's pretty much the same outfit (please pay close attention to the suspenders and shiny shoes), minus the totally cool cream and black blazer I wore that night. Considering the title of tonight's post, it seems to be the right time to post a pic of ... yep ... of myself.