- drilling
- fleas
- incompetence
- password fuckwittery
- child duplicity leading to unnecessary packed lunch making
- whining. Lots of whining.
There have been many requests for the Confessional to return. I, personally, can no longer confess my actual crimes, because my gurning, moronic horseface and slightly too long name now grace these pages, and people who might be inveigled into paying sums as princely as 173 pounds for my efforts might accidentally read about them.
I have an idea though. I am going to "confess" (list) my anxieties. You, in the comments, can choose either to confess the conventional sins, or anxieties too.
Things I am anxious about:
1. I am anxious that it has been about three years since I went to the dentist and almost everyone I know is having dental trauma at the moment. Mine must be imminent. I am afraid that one night I will grind my (rubbish) teeth that extra 5% harder than usual and all my molars will simply crumble.
2. I am anxious that I will continue to live a life of constant vermin infestation of one type or another, like the medieval peasant I am at heart.
3. I am so anxious about financial matters that I cannot say more or I will have to go and find a paper bag to breathe into. I will lump the fact that the accountant has asked for all my, uh, what do you call it all that white papery stuff? "Stuff"? That. About a fortnight ago. I have done nothing. I am pretending I did not even see it.
4. I am anxious for my tiny little sister, who is quite ground down by life and could do with getting a break. And this goes a hundredfold for my big brother.
5. I am anxious about the scratches on the floor in the Salmon Palace.
6. I am anxious I am being punished for having good skin in my teenage years by now looking like SHIT until I die. I really look like shit. I do not understand it.
7. I am anxious about a raft of other things that must remain obscure, and not because they involve me being on the brink of signing a six figure contract to do something really fucking impressive.
8. I am anxious that my understanding of the Hart Scott Rodino Act will let me down on a conference call on Monday on which I am, laughably, supposed to be an expert.
9. I am anxious that B will finally coerce me into playing the piano while he plays the flute, only for him to realise I have NOT been modestly talking down my piano abilities, but that I actually am utter shite.
10. I am anxious that all my friends including the aforementioned and cherished B are going to bloody well leave me alone in Brussels, with only the reprobates on the 51 tram, my hole staring, net twitching neighbours, my increasingly teenage and indifferent children and the fecking dog for company.
11. I am perpetually anxious I will get sued for some minor incompetence or inaccuracy. I doubt I am insured for that. Cue extra anxiety.
12. I am anxious how I will survive the literal, multiple, empty nest syndrome that beckons over in owlcam land.
This could go on for ever, so I am stopping. If you have any fears or anxieties or more entertainingly, VILE CRIMES to confess, please do so in the comments.
22 comments:
I've agreed to play the organ at a wedding in July. I am the most rubbish organist ever. At least it's a freebie (anyone better would have wanted paying) so I won't have the guilt of taking money for cocking up their wedding.
Talking about anxiety makes me anxious, I can't do it. I know, I'll tell you about the embarrassing thing I didn't say last year. It was after I had my hip done, and I couldn't lean forward for a month in case it dislocated. When I finally could reach my lower legs, I found they were white and flaky. I smeared them with lotion and so on, but it wasn't getting anywhere, so I shaved them. I reckoned the dead skin would just shave off. It did, sort of. Unfortunately, so did the live skin and I had to get my husband to bring me a towel before I bled all over the carpet. He was so bemused, poor man.
The razor was completely clogged up, too. I threw it away. I had red and scabby streaks all down my legs for a week.
Beautifully written, anxiety-ridden post! My anxieties, like yours, are too many and acute to mention. I'm self-medicating with coffee and chocolate. I can recommend it.
The idea of writing down my anxieties makes me far too anxious. They are many, and mostly small (plus the 'everyone I love will die' ones which are hopefully remote, if not small).
I will make a timely confession though: I failed to lock the padlock on the shed on Monday night, and some naughty boys came and stole Jerry's bike. I hoodwinked both Jerry and two police officers over my failure to lock it (i.e. wasted police time and interfered with the cause of justice). Luckily the naughty boys abandoned the bike nearby after they saw how shit it is, so he has got it back now.
Or is it the course of justice?
oddly, I just wrote this yesterday:
http://momosyllabic.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-confessional.html
Honest to God, I didn't know you had a pre-existing claim on blog confessionals. Tis a flukey co-incidence. But you can add my unwitting lack of originality to the sins I catalogue.
What, WHAT a crap week . . .
oh, are you kidding? what's to confess when you do absolutely NOTHING worth talking or writing about?
Having recently read a book on the creation and manipulation of anxious mice (to benefit humanity, of course, what else?), I have been trying to just say no to the torment. Case in point, a spider in the shed SO fucking huge that the only response possible was to die right then, or block out the fear with some kind of neurological brute force.
Angst for others sucks, I can only commiserate, but scratches on the floor can often be handled by rubbing something greasy on them (refer to the internet for details...do not bother looking for 'sealing knots with an undercoat of nail polish'--because apparently the people who have nail polish are not the people who do the painting).
Meth will make you no longer have any reason to be afraid of the dentist, and also allow you to look back on this era as your cute phase. Btw you already do something really fucking impressive.
If even lawyers worry about being sued (worry even more?), then I give up (take that with a grain of salt, I am an epic quitter).
Sadly, I am not allowed to commit any crimes, for fear of damaging my potential for long-term residency. And my 'Vrouw op een leeg nest' moment this week was watching a heron make off with some small black water fowl, a baby coot?, a cootie? Then come back for seconds, in one gulp, none of the tearing limb from limb that nature is so fond of. Then take a drink, to wash it down. I do not consider this a pleasant respite from the incessant duck gang rapes.
I have just studied for 4 YEARS FULL TIME in a healthcare-related discipline just to have the sodding NHS go into meltdown just as I graduate. Thank you SO much, Andrew Lansley, you IDIOT. Treating the NHS as yo' bitch.
Anyway, I have an appointment for a jobseekers allowance interview on Tuesday, and I'm FORTY SIX YEARS OLD, goddammit. I bet the JobCentre drone will be about 15 years old with acne. I'd much rather it was a crabby old woman who will give me a box of tissues when I break down and cry.
I stuff my anxieties down my throat with ice cream. This behavior makes me anxious. Which them causes me to seek out more ice cream. I have been losing weight, 5 pounds in 2 weeks, and I fear that I will self-sabotage. And that makes me anxious. Hmmmm...maybe it's time to get on meds? Again, that makes me...well, you know.
Anywho....good luck with your number 7.
I am anxious about your continued obsession with birds.
I had a heart attack a month ago - which I spectacularly failed to notice....I am now Majorly Anxious that I'm going to miss yet another heart attack, which will neverthless leave me in a box.
Oh yeah, and I've got a new anxiety, which is tht you're going to think I'm making this up to top trump your anxieties... shish
I too am anxious about not having been to the dentist in a while--I think it's been about three years for me as well.
One of my patients pooped on me and ruined my wristwatch and I'm anxious about buying a new one because I'm afraid I'll get pooped on again.
I'm anxious that I'll get sued and lose everything I own because I forgot to chart every single hour that a patient's call button was in reach, or that I'd notified the doctor that his blood pressure was 80/40.
I'm anxious about the neighbors complaining to the city about all the weeds in my front yard.
I'm anxious that my shoes are tracking supergerms all through my house.
I'm anxious that a tree will crush my new car.
I'm anxious about the fact that I suspect the other nurses at work talk about me behind my back.
I'm anxious about developing a tolerance to caffeine.
I have a vile crime to confess.
I hate my mother. She is a horrible, awful person. I was raped for years by my older brother and she did nothing at the time, and does nothing about it now. She knows, oh, she knows the truth. But chooses to pretend it never happened. Carries on a lovely close relationship with him. She treats me terribly. She is argumentative, nasty, condescending, and selfish. She likes to complain about trivial things, blame me, and shame me. I made the mistake of letting her come thousands of miles for a visit with my children. After a week of her verbal abuse, I couldn't take it anymore. I took her toothbrush and scrubbed the toilet with it. I mean, really scrubbed it. Under the rim, in the exit hole, scrubbed and scrubbed. The next day, she became violently ill and ended up in the hospital for five days. They said it was food poisoning. I know it was the toothbrush.
I am worried I will mess it all up and fail.
As a result of this I take chances on everything, don’t form relationships and wait for everything to go to shit. So far it hasn’t, the universe does not tend towards chaos but sameness.
I live in fear that someone will work out that the world shouldn’t work, it’s too complicated, things that go wrong should cause havoc, and the world tends towards sameness.
I lie every day that I’m ok, I mostly convince myself. I’m that girl whose the life and soul of the party, has lots of friends, does well at school and later. Never underestimate how much people put on an act in public.
The only thing this has taught me is that everyone is more complicated than I can imagine.
Anonymous what you did was not vile.
Anonymous, I think your action was remarkably restrained. But don't let your mother visit again, because you shouldn't have to put up with it.
I have lots of anxieties and much to confess, but nothing comes to mind at the moment, so I'll leave it be. Waffle, I am not sorry that your blog is successful enough to prevent your honestly confessing, but I am sorry to miss your confessions; however you have come up with a most excellent modification. And congratulation to your father the Ash Czar!
Just to admit to similar flea/tick infestations. Jeez, I am really not sure what century I am living in with the cats and dog constantly infected despite use of ridiculously expensive insecticide which doesn't work (and lets not talk about the years when we were even too skint to afford that). The low point was when I found a flea in my eldest daughters eyebrow. The high point was the return from holiday and not been attacked by the little buggers as we walked through the house.
I don't believe you look like shit - I bet you are far too pale.
Just got to say that i can't be the only one thats a bit concerned about some of the comments going on here a little too much entitlement people our delightful waffle needs love and flea powder and just possibly a small tube of steradent and thats it!
Jx
Anonymous, well done! Definitely don't let her come to visit again, life's too short for a mother like that.
I'm anxious about what to do with my life, whether to go give up everything and go off and travel the world, or to buy a small brick house and have a few babies to keep my busy and maybe make me happy?
I'm anxious that having a baby would change my life too much and make me unhappy.
I'm anxious that not having a baby would make me unhappy.
I'm anxious about my looks - I'm losing them and everywhere I go I see beautiful girls with glowing skin, fantastic outfits, not to mention slim, beautiful hair, sparkly eyes and white white teeth.
Get talking to them and they all have passions, hobbies, are creative and artistic...all this makes me feel really anxious.
I feel anxious that people will discover that I am indeed a country bumpkin with no idea what to do with my life, with no taste and not much personality.
I am anxious that my boyfriend will meet another girl and leave me.
I'm anxious about not having much self-esteem and no confidence.
I'm anxious about my therapy that I'm going to tonight to deal with the above.
I'm anxious about my parents coming to visit - 2 weeks in my small appartment.
I am anxious at the realisation that we are all so anxious. Perhaps there is something to say for not venting ultra personal stuff on public forums? This is a genuine question, by the way, not a sarcastic underhand comment. I realise some commenters have serious issues to deal with and don't wish to minimise them, but my feeling after reading is one of helplessness and... anxiety.
Incidentally, I've just gone back to read some of the confessionals from 2009. They are hilarious, and wonderful.
Idea: can you create a fake persona, a "friend" on behalf of whom you can confess but who will save your arse from litigation should you, I mean SHE, steal a Lexus or accidentally destroy an abandoned shopping cart?
Love your work, BW, it makes me laugh.
Confession - I am 6 months pregnant and have nightly sex dreams about random men. I wake up and guiltily kiss my husband, lie and say I slept well, then solicit him for relief.
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