A Rant in My Pants and somewhere an alarm clock is ringing...

So I took a long extended holiday from my blog. Truth be told I have been oh so down. I traded in my side salad  for a huge heaped plate of fury and I simmered like a dry pot on the stove, getting all blackened on the bottom. I snuck off to the back porch and smoked some bitterness , like a truant schoolgirl. I was angry, bitter and sad and I hated everything that was Roger. In my long lengthy hating, I came to realize that in actual fact the person who had let me down the most ,was myself. 

I was sickened by my cowardice. Why did I let Roger treat me that way? Why didn't I show that rotten old toad the door after the first affair? Why did I lay down at his feet like a door mat with a sign on my forehead saying "wipe feet here." I was victim, and that my friends is cowardices middle name. Yes, I may not have had numerous affairs, or done any of the things Roger is accused of, but I have done worse, in doing so little. Oh I would that I could have been Joan of Arc, riding out in the front of my own personal battles. Instead I was a wee timorous beastie cowering and frozen with indicision, pathos and my own personal brand of feebleness.Yes, I have let myself down.

Like Alice in Wonderland, I cast my eyes round about, looking for neon signs that say "This Way You Feeble Git" The Cheshire Cat tut-tuts and says - "You don't really know what you want do you?" And he is right. I don't really.I look in my knapsack and discover absolutely nothing as I look around me I discover I haven't really moved from where I was in the beginning. I'm standing on the yellow brick road right next to the sign that reads "begin here" and I realize I haven't gotten very far at all. I'm scarecrow, tin man and the lion all rolled into one, seeking a brain, that really thinks and doesn't just react, a heart that loves bravely and  unconditionally and most of all my dithering, withering self seeks COURAGE. I realize that the thing I most need is courage.

I lol about in various stages of woundedness as if the wounds were badges of honour. I have unmet dreams and unresolved issues. I'm furious alright, only I realize the one I am furious about is me. I hate my life, whose fault is that? I'm unhappy. Roger? I'm still married for goodness sakes. Roger? I'm overweight and unfit.Roger? I need to offload the biggest excuse behind which my scaredy cat ineffectiveness has been hiding. Roger and face the real villain, myself.