Salvatore Is Published

Do you ever have days where you feel the dark side is winning in your life? Where you feel as if you are channeling Darth Vader more than Anakin? Today I felt like the bad guy on Fifth Element, sorry about all the sci-fi references, toward the end when the big bad being is hurling closer through space and...what's his name...ah, Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg...and he begins to get nervous that this big bad being is really bigger and badder than he, Mr. Zorg, is, and he, Mr. Zorg, begins to ooze this bizarre black gunk (blood? sweat?). I feel like that. I feel like I am just oozing blackness.

The voices in my head (ahem...self-talk) have started up again. You know the "you suck," "you're a failure," "you're a lousy mom," kind-of voices. On top of which, I discovered that Salvatore Scibona has written a novel. And had it published. And has received acclamations from Esquire. And Annie Dillard, one of his literary loves.

Why should I care? Well, you have to know Mr. Scibona. Salvatore was a dorm-mate my freshman year of college; he was also in my "core group," which meant that he was in every single one of my classes. Every. single. one. We got along okay but we also clashed. At one point I took our initials and put them together: Salvatore and Maraiya = S&M = a bit scary and not so good. Scibona and Lxyxn = S&L = anyone remember the savings and loan disasters of the 80's? This should have been a clear foreshadowing. He became in some ways my arch-rival, if you could say that we even cared that much. We just rubbed each other the wrong way, so much so that when we unexpectedly ran into each one day we both were startled and physically *jumped back.* Seriously, I've never had such a visceral reaction to somebody (ok, maybe Charlie C. but that's another story.) By the time we graduated, we had found a way of functioning positively, maybe even been a bit of friends. But still, when I think of Mr. Scibona, I think, "Grrr." And now, he's not only earned a Fulbright (I got over that last year - at least I thought I did) but has just been published. In hardback. You can buy it on Amazon. And Barnes and Noble. And Powell's. *sigh*

I've been trying hard to redefine my idea of success. I've been married for 10.5 years and we still like each other. No one has died or even been maimed. And while there may be a few scars on our respective hearts, we still plan on being married for...ever. I have three lovely children who seem to be growing up into good adults, in spite of me, and who seem to be fairly happy and well-adjusted. Isn't this success? I have weathered the death of my mother and have begun to set boundaries and discover new ways to have successful relationships. I am working on my faith. I'm a good person damnit! But then I see someone, someone who challenged me and frustrated me and made me...argh!!...succeed so magnificently where I have completely failed and it just gets me.

I know, I know. I should be so happy for his success. I should be so pleased that he has been able to accomplish some of his dreams. But I'm terribly jealous and wondering, "Really, what have I done? What have I done?"

I return to our Sunday School lesson last Sunday in which we discussed the latter half of King Benjamin's talk. I love King Benjamin. I love his talk. He says such beautiful things and he says them so eloquently. We talked a lot about our need to remember the goodness of God and His greatness and mercy and, in contrast, our own nothingness. The teacher warned us that this was crucial because every time the Nephites began to think they were "somebody," they fell into pride and disbelief and well, it always went downhill fast after that.

I struggle with this. I want to be somebody. I want to single handedly save the world, sing an aria so beautiful it would make you weep. I want every one to say, "Look at her! She's amazing!! Did you know I used to go to school/work with her?" Just something so they can find some sort of connection to me. And I want it to be for something BIG, not just for acting in a movie. Instead, I am small. I am a mom in a small town raising a small family. I'm inconsequential. I am the tiniest capillary underneath the bed of your pinkie toe. And while I agree strongly that every part of the body is crucial to functioning, do we really need that one small capillary in our pinkie toes?

See, this is my struggle. I know, I even said it in class, that nothingness is not worthlessness. I have great worth. I am the best damned pinkie capillary ever! E.V.E.R. God loves me just because. But I have such a hard time accepting the nothingness and rejecting the worthlessness. I have a hard time feeling the love without the acclaim.

I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere in life. I feel like I just keep spinning in circles over and over and over and over. I'm a car stuck on a muddy back road and the harder I spin, the worse I'm stuck. See, I just keep oozing this toxicness all over until it infests every part of me.

Tonight I went to our first RS book club meeting where we discussed The Peacegiver. Easy read, brilliant book. James Ferrell talks about the atonement from several different vantage points. On the one hand this book lifted me up. On the other, it discourages me. I believe strongly that Jesus is my Savior and that He is the one who can clean up all this black tar and make me whole; make me really successful and at peace. On the other hand, how the hell do I do that? Again, the harder I try, the harder I get stuck.

Grrr...I'm just feeling lost and frustrated and ooh, yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.

I want my mommy. (Because it just had to be said)