Taking Care of Business
...everyone else's that is.
It has been really difficult for me to write lately. I've been on auto-pilot for so long now that I probably couldn't "fly solo" if I wanted to. If I actually stopped and thought about it before I got out of bed in the morning, I wouldn't get up at all. During the week I'm expected to be at work at a certain time, so I am. When my alarms go off I hit the snooze every 7 and 10 minutes for an hour before I force myself out of bed, jump in the shower and throw on whatever pair of scrubs is clean and handy. I can be ready and out the door in 15 minutes. On weekends I only get up when and if I have something I absolutely have to do or one of the kids needs something. I envy people who can get up after the first alarm--or even just one "snooze"--and go about a morning routine. They maybe exercise, eat breakfast, read the paper, tidy up the house a little....and do whatever else people who enjoy their lives do.
I dread waking up in the morning--or the afternoon, as the case may be! My first thought is usually, "Oh. It's morning. I'm still alive. Damn!" I barely drag myself through the day fixing messes and putting out fires that I didn't start because that's what I do. I've spent years trying to figure out what it is I'd like to do with my life instead and I have yet to come up with an answer. I never aspired to an exciting career or travel or having tons of money. I hadn't even planned to go to college. I have my high school guidance counselor to thank for pushing me to take college prep and Advanced Placement courses and apply for scholarships. I probably wouldn't have done that either if I hadn't been forced to choose between going to college to find a husband (yes, I admit it, I went for my MRS. degree) and living at home with my grandmother for the rest of my natural life.
All I wanted was what I never had as a child....the same thing I still don't have and probably never WILL have. A close, loving family. I wanted 4 kids, a husband who loved me and who had lots of siblings so my kids could grow up with lots of cousins, and....that's about it. Needless to say that's not working out too well for me. Granted, I got the husband and 4 kids, but out of his 3 siblings, only one had kids (2) who we rarely ever saw. And close? My first son (25) and my youngest daughter (18) are close, in that they actually LIKE each other (they're the two who got matching tattoos with me). The rest of them either hate each other or just "tolerate" each other. Nobody gets along with Dad.
I read the post in "Divorce after Twenty Years" about finding your "true passion" in life. I just really don't think I have one. I have no visible talents. I'm moderately competant at many different things, good at a few, but there is absolutely NOTHING that I excell in. There are things I've been interested in, but nothing I really WANT to pursue. I would love to be an "expert" at something---besides people-pleasing, perfectionism, self-loathing, procrastination, fear, guilt, shame, and a whole bunch of other things that come quite naturally to me. While I was home raising my kids I thought about all the great things I could do when they grew up and I had time to myself. Oh, I didn't have any specific plans, I just wanted to pursue the elusive "passion". The one I realized I don't possess.
Of course I STILL don't really have real "time to myself" since I'm stuck with my grandson. I know it sounds really horrible, but I did my time. I stayed home all day with 4 kids. Except for when I was taking them to baseball, band, swim team, gymnastics, doctors, dentists, working as a lunch mom, boy scouts, girl scouts (I was even my oldest daughter's scout leader for 6 years), working overnight part time stocking shelves at Target, carting them off to play with their friends, go to the mall, take them to and pick them up from work, or the police station because they got caught doing some stupid thing AGAIN. And my husband worked late, came home for dinner that I was expected to produce nightly so we could eat together as a family, and then he went back to work. And he worked weekends. And he is salaried so he didn't even make more money for his hours.
It's not that I don't have the energy level I had when I was younger, I just don't WANT to do it all again. It's even harder now because I work full time and have a 2 1/2 hour commute daily. When I come home the last thing in the world I want to do is sword fight or answer 5000 questions or go to the park. I don't feel like going to the mall to get new clothes and shoes because he's growing like a weed or figure out who's going to take off work to get him to the doctor for his physical. I have enough stress without the added worry about whether his slight fever is going to turn into something that's going to necessitate calling in sick because he can't go to daycare even though he really isn't sick or contagious. And I especially don't want to hear my husband complaining that he feels like a "single parent" because I don't get home until 7 or later and he has to do most of the "care-taking".
So, no, I don't rejoice at the beginning of a new day and I feel horrible and ungrateful and all those things self-righteous people say I SHOULD feel. But each new day doesn't feel like a new adventure, a new beginning, a new chance.... It isn't exciting. It isn't hopeful. It's more of the same old stuff and more than likely some new stuff that isn't going to be pleasant....New problems I can't solve.... New opportunities to fail in new ways....New worries and sorrows.....New reminders of the fact that it could ALL be tolerable if only I had a real partner, somebody to help carry the burden. And, no, Jesus can NOT take on my burdens. Well, maybe He CAN, but he hasn't volunteered YET.
I just want to be loved. By a real flesh-and-blood person on earth right here and now. Is that so wrong?
It has been really difficult for me to write lately. I've been on auto-pilot for so long now that I probably couldn't "fly solo" if I wanted to. If I actually stopped and thought about it before I got out of bed in the morning, I wouldn't get up at all. During the week I'm expected to be at work at a certain time, so I am. When my alarms go off I hit the snooze every 7 and 10 minutes for an hour before I force myself out of bed, jump in the shower and throw on whatever pair of scrubs is clean and handy. I can be ready and out the door in 15 minutes. On weekends I only get up when and if I have something I absolutely have to do or one of the kids needs something. I envy people who can get up after the first alarm--or even just one "snooze"--and go about a morning routine. They maybe exercise, eat breakfast, read the paper, tidy up the house a little....and do whatever else people who enjoy their lives do.
I dread waking up in the morning--or the afternoon, as the case may be! My first thought is usually, "Oh. It's morning. I'm still alive. Damn!" I barely drag myself through the day fixing messes and putting out fires that I didn't start because that's what I do. I've spent years trying to figure out what it is I'd like to do with my life instead and I have yet to come up with an answer. I never aspired to an exciting career or travel or having tons of money. I hadn't even planned to go to college. I have my high school guidance counselor to thank for pushing me to take college prep and Advanced Placement courses and apply for scholarships. I probably wouldn't have done that either if I hadn't been forced to choose between going to college to find a husband (yes, I admit it, I went for my MRS. degree) and living at home with my grandmother for the rest of my natural life.
All I wanted was what I never had as a child....the same thing I still don't have and probably never WILL have. A close, loving family. I wanted 4 kids, a husband who loved me and who had lots of siblings so my kids could grow up with lots of cousins, and....that's about it. Needless to say that's not working out too well for me. Granted, I got the husband and 4 kids, but out of his 3 siblings, only one had kids (2) who we rarely ever saw. And close? My first son (25) and my youngest daughter (18) are close, in that they actually LIKE each other (they're the two who got matching tattoos with me). The rest of them either hate each other or just "tolerate" each other. Nobody gets along with Dad.
I read the post in "Divorce after Twenty Years" about finding your "true passion" in life. I just really don't think I have one. I have no visible talents. I'm moderately competant at many different things, good at a few, but there is absolutely NOTHING that I excell in. There are things I've been interested in, but nothing I really WANT to pursue. I would love to be an "expert" at something---besides people-pleasing, perfectionism, self-loathing, procrastination, fear, guilt, shame, and a whole bunch of other things that come quite naturally to me. While I was home raising my kids I thought about all the great things I could do when they grew up and I had time to myself. Oh, I didn't have any specific plans, I just wanted to pursue the elusive "passion". The one I realized I don't possess.
Of course I STILL don't really have real "time to myself" since I'm stuck with my grandson. I know it sounds really horrible, but I did my time. I stayed home all day with 4 kids. Except for when I was taking them to baseball, band, swim team, gymnastics, doctors, dentists, working as a lunch mom, boy scouts, girl scouts (I was even my oldest daughter's scout leader for 6 years), working overnight part time stocking shelves at Target, carting them off to play with their friends, go to the mall, take them to and pick them up from work, or the police station because they got caught doing some stupid thing AGAIN. And my husband worked late, came home for dinner that I was expected to produce nightly so we could eat together as a family, and then he went back to work. And he worked weekends. And he is salaried so he didn't even make more money for his hours.
It's not that I don't have the energy level I had when I was younger, I just don't WANT to do it all again. It's even harder now because I work full time and have a 2 1/2 hour commute daily. When I come home the last thing in the world I want to do is sword fight or answer 5000 questions or go to the park. I don't feel like going to the mall to get new clothes and shoes because he's growing like a weed or figure out who's going to take off work to get him to the doctor for his physical. I have enough stress without the added worry about whether his slight fever is going to turn into something that's going to necessitate calling in sick because he can't go to daycare even though he really isn't sick or contagious. And I especially don't want to hear my husband complaining that he feels like a "single parent" because I don't get home until 7 or later and he has to do most of the "care-taking".
So, no, I don't rejoice at the beginning of a new day and I feel horrible and ungrateful and all those things self-righteous people say I SHOULD feel. But each new day doesn't feel like a new adventure, a new beginning, a new chance.... It isn't exciting. It isn't hopeful. It's more of the same old stuff and more than likely some new stuff that isn't going to be pleasant....New problems I can't solve.... New opportunities to fail in new ways....New worries and sorrows.....New reminders of the fact that it could ALL be tolerable if only I had a real partner, somebody to help carry the burden. And, no, Jesus can NOT take on my burdens. Well, maybe He CAN, but he hasn't volunteered YET.
I just want to be loved. By a real flesh-and-blood person on earth right here and now. Is that so wrong?
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