Wednesday, November 3, 2010

"I don't wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence. The quiet scares me cuz it screams the truth." ~P!nk

The bad thing about having things fall apart in one fell swoop is that it puts me in the sort of head space where I start to look inside myself for all that I have contributed. Does this make me special in any way? No. Problems befall everyone. Will I stay down? No. I'll wallow for a few days & then I'll be fine. But in this moment I realize that that annoying little bloom of doubt has waged itself into a full on attack of fear. This is not a new feeling for anyone, I realize. It's just not one that I often let myself acknowledge, let alone share...

When I look in the mirror lately I'm starting to notice that my skin isn't as tight as it used to be. I am not afraid to age, in fact I do understand the blessing that it is. So I'm ashamed to say that I have fallen victim to vanity. I am scared to no longer be seen as pretty or desirable. I'm afraid that I'm not fit enough to attract a mate. I look around & it seems that entire world has fallen in love. And I am not even remotely near that. Will I never feel that again? That connection to a soul that I don't share DNA with? I loathe admitting that sometimes, I succumb to loneliness.

Sometimes I eat my fears. I use food to replace the things that I feel are missing inside of me. Does it feel make me feel better? Sure. Good food, especially the shit that's bad for you tastes great. Then I feel the fear/shame/worry that I am no better than my alcoholic mother who I am so quick to judge. I just have a different vice, that's all. Who am I to point a finger? Booze, drugs, sex, food, exercise. We all have one. Or a few. I am not above it so I should be above the judgment. Yet, I stand on my soap box consistently & point outwards.

I worry that I am not good enough to raise my three girls to be good people because I am not always the moral compass I want them to be. I have a wicked temper, I make rash decisions & I curse like a sailor. Why should they look to me for anything? I didn't even love myself enough at the time to choose a good father for them. Then I added to that. I let someone into our lives who faked an entire 'life' with us. Who walked out of our lives without so much as a second glance back. My daughters will at some point have to deal with their Dad/Man issues because of MY mistakes.

I am terrible with money & finances. I spend in much the same manner that I eat. Because it provides a temporary fix to the thing that hurts. I will happily slap that card down knowing FULL well that there are more important things to handle. Because in that moment, I need to feel better. And I am selfish.

My relationship with God has fallen by the way side. I lost my faith along the way a couple years back & I haven't found it again because the truth is; I haven't looked for it. I only look up to the heavens when things are bad and even then it is only to ask "Why me?" I'm the worse offender too. Because I know God. And I have chosen to pretend that He isn't watching all the of stupid shit I've been up to.

I get to thinking about love again... Why should anyone try to see the good in me when I have so much trouble finding it in myself?  I am admittedly a work in progress, but I am certainly not a girl of 22 with time to waste and the ability to keep making the mistakes that I make. I don't want to get stuck in this mind frame & get caught in some situation that I know I am better than because I'm not feeling like I deserve any better. When did it all get so complicated? When the fuck was it ever really easy?

The questions and the fear and the doubts can overwhelm the human spirit, can't they? Surely I am not the only one...

I sit here thinking & writing and I hear the following verse and I have my answer:

When it's good, then it's good, it's so good, 'till it goes bad
Till you're trying to find the you that you once had
I have heard myself cry
Never again
Broken down in agony
Just trying to find a friend
-Pink "Sober"
Maybe I need to learn to be more forgiving of myself. Maybe I need to feel the bad so that I can work through it to get to the good. Maybe I'm in a funk. Maybe I'm a whiny ass who needs to suck it up. Or maybe, just maybe...I need to look into that mirror a little harder and see passed the exterior and find that girl I know I have somewhere inside & shake her ass up a bit. Maybe let her know that she is not alone & that it will work itself out in the end. And if it doesn't, then it isn't the end....

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings." ~Hodding Carter

A dear friend said to me today " You know, some people are one way in front of their kids & another when they aren't. You're always the same." I took it as a real compliment. Funny that that came up today. It sort of made me pause & marvel in the irony when the shit hit the fan a mere few hours later.

"Kids do not come with an owner's manual when you have them." I've often stated that to friends & family when we have discussed someone feeling overwhelmed/exhausted/frustrated about some situation or another that had them asking aloud what the hell they did to get there. I have certainly used my own mother's "parenting" as a guide on what NOT to do in raising my own children. I have personally subscribed to being open and upfront & above all, bluntly honest with my kids. I try to treat them the way I want to be treated.

When I began to consider this move across the country, I sat them all down & told them that if there were any "absolutely no ways" in the group, we simply would not move. I kept them involved every step of the way during the decision & planning & ultimately the execution of this move. I certainly knew there would be bumps in the road. I thought I'd gotten lucky....

It isn't even that I have an issue with the fact that they are struggling a bit to adjust. I totally get it. Leaving everyone you know & starting over in High School. It's a massive adjustment. It's the fact that no matter how often I say "come to me" when ever you need to talk, here I am finding out about it not once removed but twice. And that is positively fucking infuriating. I loathe not being told first what is going on in the lives of my own goddamned children. And to be told to pretend everything is hunky dory until when someone else says, just about puts my ass over the deep end.

Then in the midst of that anger comes a nagging little voice. It keeps whispering to me & damn if the bitch isn't getting louder. It keeps saying one word over & over.


Have I made a mistake? Did I do them more harm than good by making this move? Is the reason that she talked to someone else because I am a bad mother? She feels like she can't talk to me...? Do they not want me to know that they hate it here? Was I selfish? Will they hate me

The questions just go on and on and on. But the main thing I take from them all is doubt. I haven't done a whole lot of that in my day & suddenly I am standing on a very slippery slope with all kinds of care on my shoulders. Let it be made known that I obviously care what my children think. What I mean is, where along the path did I start to question what I was doing? and why? How do I teach my children that life comes with all kinds of changes and if they don't have a solid foundation for coping with it, that they will not make it in the world? How do I say that & still seem like I am hearing their concerns? Is the current administration not working?? (No pun intended, truly.) 

When a woman raises children on her own, she assumes the role of mother, father, friend, confidant, enforcer, protector, administrator, chef, stylist, judge, security detail and so on. Those quantity of roles diminish as the kid gets older. I am OK with all of those things. Here is my concern though. When one person has too much power, where does the line get blurred? How do I know of I am failing them?

Usually, there is a point in my writing where what I am stressed out over starts to meld its way into a resolution somewhere in purging process. Tonight though, that is not the case. Tonight I am forced to look over my own report card as a Mommy. Frankly, I feel like I've been handed a bunch of Fs.