I haven't written much because I'm annoying even myself with the drama and seemingly never-ending angst that has become my life. It's pointless to get on here and drone on and on about it all.
The level of frustration I feel about not being able to have more control over my life is at an all time high and it feels insurmountable. I'm a proactive person and believe in doing for myself and not whining.
But what do you do when it won't let up? What do you do when things aren't getting better no matter how hard you try? Life just keeps throwing crap at you and the only choice you have is to juke and jive in an attempt to dodge bullets. Crappy bullets. Bullets full of crap. CRAPTASTIC BULLETS FULL OF CRAP.
It's awful. I'm tired. Exhausted. To the bone exhausted. There are times lately that it doesn't even seem worth it. What's the point if life is this hard for this long?
No, I'll never kill myself. Not my style. But I sure would like some relief. I would like to rest my mind and my heart. I would like some spiritual and emotional respite.
I would like to be happy.
Content.
At peace.
That's all. Just some peace-of-mind...
Friday, October 18, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
It was 91 degrees in Georgia today. We had a 40 minute drive
this afternoon during the highest heat of the day – IN A BLACK CAR WITH NO AIR
CONDITIONING. (Don’t even get me started.) We stopped by Publix to get
something for dinner. Greg drops me off because I’m cranky with sweat. I go
inside and am grateful for the cool air. I thought about going to the freezer
section to sit myself in with the frozen corn dogs. Refrained. I stood there behaving
myself waiting for Greg and Emma to come inside but only Greg showed up…
Me: WHY?? It’s too hot!
Greg: I have no idea. That’s what I told her but she didn’t want to come in.
Me: (thinking) WHATEVER. Crazy kid…
We finish up our shopping and head out to the car. (Greg had found a good spot after he dropped me off! Right by the door. He’s good at finding prime parking.) I get to the car and there is Emma: wilted, sweating, forlorn with the hardship of baking in what was essentially a really big oven for the previous 15 minutes.
Me: Emma, why didn’t you come in? It’s too freaking hot out here!
Emma: (Long, deep sigh…)Because I didn’t want to walk.
Me: What are you talking about??
Emma: I didn’t want to walk from the car to the store.
Me: You didn't leave the sweltering car to travel the 15 feet to the cool store because you didn't want to walk?
Emma: Yeah, I just didn't feel like it.
Me: Where’s Emma?
Greg: Out in the car. Me: WHY?? It’s too hot!
Greg: I have no idea. That’s what I told her but she didn’t want to come in.
Me: (thinking) WHATEVER. Crazy kid…
We finish up our shopping and head out to the car. (Greg had found a good spot after he dropped me off! Right by the door. He’s good at finding prime parking.) I get to the car and there is Emma: wilted, sweating, forlorn with the hardship of baking in what was essentially a really big oven for the previous 15 minutes.
Me: Emma, why didn’t you come in? It’s too freaking hot out here!
Emma: (Long, deep sigh…)Because I didn’t want to walk.
Me: What are you talking about??
Emma: I didn’t want to walk from the car to the store.
Me: You didn't leave the sweltering car to travel the 15 feet to the cool store because you didn't want to walk?
Emma: Yeah, I just didn't feel like it.
Me: That's what's called CRAZY LAZY, Emma.
Emma: Ugh, MOM!
(She deserved to bake.)
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Brokenhearted
Right here. This is the moment. The moment when our innocence ended.
When we knew.
Knew that this wasn't an accident, but intentional.
And that thousands would die. Innocent people just doing their jobs.
It's when we knew that nothing would ever be the same again and that life is largely out of our control.
I am praying today. Praying for those left behind without their loved ones. Praying for our country. Praying for my daughter and the world she's growing up in.
Praying that someday our hearts will be mended.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
I'm Almost "Done" But I'm Still Learning
I'm learning, after 17 long years of parenting, that parents don't feel guilty because they can't solve their children's problems. They feel guilty because their children have problems in the first place. If I had been a better parent, she wouldn't have this problem. If I had been a better parent, she would have more friends, better grades, not have this illness, wouldn't have had sex so early, wouldn't be addicted to (fill in the blank), would keep his room cleaner, would love herself more, would be healthier, happier, more successful, richer...NOT SO FREAKING SCREWED UP.
That's a heavy burden.
We lose before we start because everyone has problems, but we somehow think we can - or should - protect our children from them. That somehow, if we do a good enough job, get it just right, then ours won't. So, when, OF COURSE, they do have problems we are so taken aback. So surprised. And left feeling so inept.
I've been feeling inept lately. So lost and incapable. So bewildered and alone. A failure.
But...I'm also learning that what I've told my friends when they're feeling lost as a parent, is also true for me. That a good parent isn't someone who has all of the answers for our children when they struggle. It's someone who's willing to look until he or she finds them. Someone who helps their children navigate and discover and learn - so they can face their life - no matter what it brings.
Someone who loves them unconditionally - even when they have problems.
That's a heavy burden.
We lose before we start because everyone has problems, but we somehow think we can - or should - protect our children from them. That somehow, if we do a good enough job, get it just right, then ours won't. So, when, OF COURSE, they do have problems we are so taken aback. So surprised. And left feeling so inept.
I've been feeling inept lately. So lost and incapable. So bewildered and alone. A failure.
But...I'm also learning that what I've told my friends when they're feeling lost as a parent, is also true for me. That a good parent isn't someone who has all of the answers for our children when they struggle. It's someone who's willing to look until he or she finds them. Someone who helps their children navigate and discover and learn - so they can face their life - no matter what it brings.
Someone who loves them unconditionally - even when they have problems.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
I'm 47 and Didn't Know I Could Shriek Like That
Discovering a big bug with a lot of legs during your morning shower - but halfway through your shower - you know, when you're right in the middle of shampooing your hair...let's just say that I'm glad that Fatso was the only one there to witness what happened next.
He has lost all respect for me.
He has lost all respect for me.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Love
It's the topic of nearly every song ever written. Every poem ever recited. Every movie ever committed to the reel. Every novel ever published.
I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Lots and lots of thoughts swirling about my head. I see a movie and the two lovers overcome great odds and still find their way to each other. I read a book and a pair of unlikely people end up together in the end. I listen to songs and wonder at how a whole love story can be written in a four minute set of lyrics.
I look in my own life and the lives of the people around me and I have inevitably come to one conclusion: love is a complete and total, unequivocal, without a doubt, absolutely unavoidable, big fucking pain in the ass.
I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Lots and lots of thoughts swirling about my head. I see a movie and the two lovers overcome great odds and still find their way to each other. I read a book and a pair of unlikely people end up together in the end. I listen to songs and wonder at how a whole love story can be written in a four minute set of lyrics.
I look in my own life and the lives of the people around me and I have inevitably come to one conclusion: love is a complete and total, unequivocal, without a doubt, absolutely unavoidable, big fucking pain in the ass.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Full Circle
My daughter is seventeen now. I cannot even begin to tell you how weird that is. When I had her all of those years ago, I wasn't happy. She was a surprise (I was on the pill) and one that I wasn't at all sure I wanted. There are all sorts of reasons I felt that way that I'll get into at some point maybe, but the bottom line is that it was very difficult for me.
I would hold her and stare at her and wonder how I was going to raise her. How I would do right by her. How I would love her the way she deserved to be loved. How was I going to do this for eighteen years? It seemed an eternity when every hour was a struggle to get through.
But hour-by-hour, day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month, year-by-year, I did it. Sometimes plodding with the heaviness of the responsibility, and sometimes going at the speed of light trying to keep up with her ever-changing needs.
And now here we are. Looking at colleges and getting a driver's license and debating the pros and cons of getting a tattoo (God help me). She is growing up - almost there - and I just can't believe it. When you're in the throes of parenthood, whether it's the snotty little mean girl in first grade or the utter cruelty of middle school or that first real heartbreak in high school, it feels like this will be your life forever. You acclimate to it and just get on with it every day. Then "suddenly" they are approaching that magic age of eighteen when you're supposedly off the hook as a parent. That moment that you've looked forward to - and dreaded - all at the same time, is finally arriving.
Your child is grown.
And your heart is stretched and tugged and tested. Both from the heartache of losing her to adulthood and from the unbelievable excitement about the next phase of your life finally arriving. That phase that you daydreamed about on the really hard days and dreaded on the really good ones.
It's then though, that you realize that life has come full circle. Sixteen years, two months, one week and six days ago I was driving in my car with my two-week old baby and realized with some dread that while I love this child more than I ever thought I could love another human being, I would never really be mentally free again. That terrified me. I had the gift and privilege of raising this beautiful girl, but with it came the burden of worrying about her until the day I died. There was no getting around it.
And worry I did! Hand-wringing, gut-wrenching, hair-pulling worry. But I've also laughed a lot. And beamed with pride. And reveled in her accomplishments. And she has filled my heart over and over again with her sweet personality, great sense of humor, intelligence and strength.
So, as I dropped her off this past week for a week-long test run at her dream college, my car was empty of her and her stuff and that long ago car seat and baby paraphernalia. But my mind was not empty of her. She remained in my thoughts. And I realized once again, all of these years after that moment in the car with my newborn, that she always would. She would be ever-present. I would always worry about her. I would always love her. I would always parent her. She would always have my heart.
I would hold her and stare at her and wonder how I was going to raise her. How I would do right by her. How I would love her the way she deserved to be loved. How was I going to do this for eighteen years? It seemed an eternity when every hour was a struggle to get through.
But hour-by-hour, day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month, year-by-year, I did it. Sometimes plodding with the heaviness of the responsibility, and sometimes going at the speed of light trying to keep up with her ever-changing needs.
And now here we are. Looking at colleges and getting a driver's license and debating the pros and cons of getting a tattoo (God help me). She is growing up - almost there - and I just can't believe it. When you're in the throes of parenthood, whether it's the snotty little mean girl in first grade or the utter cruelty of middle school or that first real heartbreak in high school, it feels like this will be your life forever. You acclimate to it and just get on with it every day. Then "suddenly" they are approaching that magic age of eighteen when you're supposedly off the hook as a parent. That moment that you've looked forward to - and dreaded - all at the same time, is finally arriving.
Your child is grown.
And your heart is stretched and tugged and tested. Both from the heartache of losing her to adulthood and from the unbelievable excitement about the next phase of your life finally arriving. That phase that you daydreamed about on the really hard days and dreaded on the really good ones.
It's then though, that you realize that life has come full circle. Sixteen years, two months, one week and six days ago I was driving in my car with my two-week old baby and realized with some dread that while I love this child more than I ever thought I could love another human being, I would never really be mentally free again. That terrified me. I had the gift and privilege of raising this beautiful girl, but with it came the burden of worrying about her until the day I died. There was no getting around it.
And worry I did! Hand-wringing, gut-wrenching, hair-pulling worry. But I've also laughed a lot. And beamed with pride. And reveled in her accomplishments. And she has filled my heart over and over again with her sweet personality, great sense of humor, intelligence and strength.
So, as I dropped her off this past week for a week-long test run at her dream college, my car was empty of her and her stuff and that long ago car seat and baby paraphernalia. But my mind was not empty of her. She remained in my thoughts. And I realized once again, all of these years after that moment in the car with my newborn, that she always would. She would be ever-present. I would always worry about her. I would always love her. I would always parent her. She would always have my heart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)