Breaking Point

I live in a fantasy world rich with freedom; another day, another daydream. I feel imaginary warmth of the sun & the pseudo brightness pains my closed eyes. I’m there.

Where ever there is…it’s just not here. 

My eyes flash open & I’m forced to look at what my life has become. The bruise fresh on my arm feels tender and I’m running out of answers to the delicate questions. Is my soul not equipped with a breaking point?

He’s in a good mood today.

On the surface there lies lovely relief; on the other hand, days like today…my delusions are brought to a new level. The justification process within me is quite astonishing.  I long for days like this; everything is perfect. He loves me.

This is why I put up with it.

It.

That tiny word starts haunting me as I begin to wrap my head around what it is.

Fooling myself is less difficult than fooling others. I smile a robotic smile hoping if I squint my eyes in a swift motion with my upturned lips that my happiness will be convincing.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to realize…there is no need to label it any further than I have. I need to stop thinking so hard.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Years of suppressed thoughts begin snaking their way into my undervalued brain while denial & justifications wrestle with this new-found logic.

For the first time, Logic wins; I win.

My imaginary departure from the vicious cycle that I’ve called life will no longer be repressed.  I quit. I’m free.

Dear John,
I'm leaving you. 
I'm no longer yours. 
This is goodbye.
-Jane

The Daily Post: Writing Challenge : Flash Fiction.
 

The Tooth Fairy Gives Cash Bonuses For Pain & Bad Decisions

With his tone mocking that of an angry teenager, Bennett says…

“I am not going to bed tonight with this tooth in my mouth!”

So where do we go from here?  …The obvious of course.

We decide we will tie a string to that little tooth & secure the other end to our pantry door in the kitchen. Brandin went downstairs to collect the materials. (String.)

We had some pretty great expectations for what was about to happen – all of us. ‘Had’ being the key word. How silly and naive for us to believe that it would go exactly as planned.

Attempt #1: WHAM! The string flies off the tooth.

Attempt #2: WHAM! Bennett is still attached to the door. Bennett, you can’t jump forward with the door. 

Before we attempt a 3rd time we have a small family discussion. The result was that Bennett was still all in.

We gave him the chance to back out…please remember that as you read on.

Attempt #3: WHAM! Again, the string flies off the tooth.

Brandin gets down on his knees and re-ties the string to Bennett’s tooth. This time a tiny little piece of Bennett’s gums get stuck in the knot of the string & It starts to bleed; There is absolutely no way to untie the string.

Frantic is the perfect word to explain Bennett’s demeanor once he felt the pinch & saw the blood.

Fun Fact: I was videotaping this entire ordeal – which is what it had become. It was no longer funny. It was no longer cute…it was a messy ordeal.

There was this moment I was watching the screen on my camcorder, tears are streaming down his cheeks at a rather rapid rate & I realize…

This is getting weird.

That’s when I put the camcorder down.

Brandin gets back down on his knees, face-to-face with our bloody mouthed son to evaluate the situation we were dealing with.  I resorted to the corner of the kitchen, trying to keep my dinner down. In case I didn’t mention it sooner – I don’t handle the whole “teeth pulling” scenario very well.

I don’t typically have a weak stomach, but there is just something about pulling a tooth and leaving a bloody hole that doesn’t agree with me.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN!

From the corner I hear, “I don’t know Bud – Mom is going to have to take care of it.”

Pull it together Jen…

I’m not sure what came over me – but I went into full-blown “Mama-Beast-Mode”. There were no other options; I had to get that tooth out.

This had to end.

I marched over there & looked directly into my son’s eyes, gave him (and myself) an encouraging smirk…(I tried to smile, but that also didn’t go as planned) and I plucked his tooth out.

String still attached, dinner still in my stomach.

Success!   

That night, the tooth fairy was generous; apparently there is a cash bonus for pain & bad decisions.

Name. Name. Name.

My name. Your name.  The name of the movie you watched last week. The name you will title your latest piece of art. The name of the street you reside on. The name of the book you are reading. The name your love calls you to be sweet. The name your child calls you when they’re mad. To make a name for yourself.

My name is Jennifer, that’s what my parents call me anyway. My husband calls me Babycakes. Coworkers call me JLo. Friends call me Jen & Jenni. Bennett calls me Mom. Polite strangers call me ma’am. Some may call me ‘That bitch’. On the contrary, some may call me ‘That nice girl over there…’

Your name is… (Feel free to introduce yourself below).

The name of the movie I watched last week was Harry Potter. (Full of crazy names). The name of the book I’m reading is “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”. The lovely and talented lady who wrote this book has a name also. It’s Jenny Lawson – I encourage you to treat your eyes and brain to her literary awesomeness ASAP.

The name I am currently trying to make for myself is, Properly Ridiculous; through this name, I express myself. This name I have embodied has shown me who I am and has answered a lot of questions I have been seeking answers to.

The word itself, “Name” wears many hats; positive or negative, loving or hateful – Regardless, it can be powerful.

Age isn’t defined by a number (unless you’re a minor).

My brother’s voice was echoing against my bathroom walls through my speakerphone. As I sat in front of the mirror tweezing the unwanted hairs off my face, he is giving me a quick rundown of his most recent estate sale finds. I noticed something; Am I getting wrinkles?

I zoned out briefly and gave him the quick, “uh huh…” to let him know I was still attempting to listen. I am turning 30 this year, is it a damn right of passage or something?! I must have checked out longer than I thought because I heard…

So, what do you think?

Silently staring at myself in the mirror, rather than give him my thoughts on his purchase (that I clearly had no clue what it even was) I blurt out, I have wrinkles,.with true desperation in my voice.

HA! You are turning 30 this year aren’t you?”

-My brother

I felt so flustered by these lines that protrude out past my eyes when I smile, grimace, squint – I’m pretty sure I saw every single face I am capable of creating that morning as I searched for other dreaded signs of getting old. I found some on my forehead also. Should I be making a direct run to Target to pick up some of that wrinkle cream Ellen endorses?

Thankfully, my meltdown was brief and it had an unexpected outcome. While I combed through my hair to see if I could spot any gray, I gave myself a mental slap in the face.

PULL IT TOGETHER, JEN! YOU’RE NOT OLD!

And I went about my day.

As morning turned into afternoon, I refused to think about the issue I had earlier, finally that evening I confronted it. Who cares if my face is showing a few small signs of aging? It’s supposed to. Hell, it’s totally natural. If what they say is true, you’re only as old as you feel, I should be content with where I’m at.  If my now brain was able to channel how I was feeling at 22 years old – I wonder how old I actually felt. It has to be older than I feel in the present.

Happiness can shed years off your age. Age isn’t defined by a number (unless you’re a minor…) or the wrinkles on your face.

“Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter.” Satchel Paige

[Weekly Writing Challenge]