Tread lightly while unarmed in the presence of introspection, I tell myself. Rarely do I listen.

Tonight the darkness has found me. I feel as though my being has been dismembered, or rather compartmentalized. Something between the two, anyway.

I thought about how each of the few people in my life are different, and that their unique qualities match the different facets of me. Joy, anxiety, stubbornness, conscience, guilt, beauty, innovativeness, etc. Some of these people look up to me more than I deserve to be looked up to. Some tolerate me. Some are disappointed. I don’t know what the others feel, I only know what I fear they might. How can I be so highly regarded by some, looked down on by others, and not good enough for my kids? I don’t feel good enough for them. They turned out so great, but I give my husband the credit for that. He is my conscience, my straight and narrow, the one that I fail over and over. My workmates judge me, and my three friends think I hung the moon. To my parents, I am a child. I think the last couple of years they haven’t thought that, though for most of my half-century of life, they have, and not in a good way. At times like this I want to escape and live in isolation. But I would miss them all (except my workmates, sadly). I hope they’d miss me too. I’d feel more myself, I think, but I’d be in great despair of losing my family. I’ve lost some people already, and I am scarred by the unimaginable situations that caused the loss. In times like this I check in with my joy. She lives on the other side of the world, but I get instant responses when I wave hello or share a giggle. I rarely make time for conversation, though. She is my medicine, like a pill to take when I need to feel better. A silly picture suffices, always delivered and unsolicited.

So I’m un-whole tonight in a house alone, with the only thing separating me from my parts is a text I could send at any time, which brings me some comfort.

I did nothing today, and they say that idle hands are the devil’s playground. An idle mind most certainly is. My self-loathing has made an appearance. But tomorrow, I will be better.