I found an antidepressant that is actually working! I’m happy…about that. However, the first and most common side effect is weight gain. And guess what? I’m eating everything in sight! So I went to start my treadmill yesterday and it isn’t working. I moved it a few days before so I could have damaged a wire or something. Or it appears as though a dog pissed on it so it could be electrical. Either way I’m not happy. Trying to go to a gym on my schedule with kids is hard. Now this. Become depressed again because of weight gain because of the antidepressant you’re on….vicious cycle.
Not going to look for someone I want to come home to. I’m going to look for someone who wants to come home to me.
Thank God when my dogs run away they come back. If they didn’t I’d feel like total shit. Hey, it’s a start.
Friends birthing babies, gender reveal parties, pregnancy announcements. I’m over here wondering what’s next for me in my life cycle. A perimenopausal party?
I’m done with dating. I’m tired of selling myself. I’m tired of hearing of what a catch I am but the guys I fall for don’t feel the same.
I realized today how weak I’ve been this last year thinking I need someone, need a relationship. I read posts and blogs about people desperately seeking or already attached to someone. I wish these people saw themselves as they make themselves appear. I’m proud of myself for being strong and independent. I don’t need to date someone to prove I’m happy, I’m good enough, I’m loved. I love myself and I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.
I also have to add that these radio commercials about life insurance and leaving your spouse with nothing is sad for a totally different reason to me now. How sad it is that people are so dependent on another person that they can’t function or continue to live without them. It’s your life. No one is responsible for you. Why did we take on other people as a responsibility? I understand children complicate it but they’re still selling a product with guilt.
My parenting style is not really parenting. I have kids, yes. Chose to have them, yes. Love them, sometimes. But it’s not what defines me. It’s not what I want to be known for or do for rest of my life.
I’m not a coddling, doting, overly-affectionate parent. Truthfully, I can’t even call myself nurturing and some people believe that just because I have a vagina and am able to birth a child I’m supposed to be sweet, kind and overly protective of my offspring. Please, I’m just raising 2 boys to be decent human beings with the hopes that one day that can do for themselves.
I don’t read to them often. Ok, I can’t remember the last time I read a book to them. GASP! They’re not in the bathtub every night. GASP! They may eat more fast food than they should. GASP! I’m society’s bad mom.
I’m not the ‘come here let me cuddle you’ mom. I more like the “don’t touch me” type of person at the end of a long day. I’ve been single for so long now that (I’m honestly going to write this) I’d get more satisfaction from a hug from a man than my own child right now. Single or lonely parents can sympathize with me here. I’ve been clung to, puked on, pumped dry, hunted down, interrupted, disobeyed so many times now I’m fantasizing of the grocery store checkout person asking me how I’m doing just so it appears someone is expressing concern for me. Did she just ask how am I doing? OMG!
Most nights I find myself in another room of my house away from my children because it’s my personality type to distance myself and be quiet to recover from a typical day. At the end of the day, I’m talked out. I’m tired. I’ve been pulled by my employer, society, my friends (what little I have left now), my family, my very own thoughts that I’m exhausted and wanting to be alone by the time I’m home for the day.
Life is never ending responsibility and pressure. I don’t need to be made to feel bad because I’m not the kind and gentle mother The Brady Bunch mom was to 6 kids. I have 2 and sometimes I’m shutting my bedroom door and muffling a scream for the sake of myself and my children.
It’s not all a fairy tale. We’re not all the same. Not all children are the same. Not all of us dread the day our children leave our homes and set out on their own. Some of us are just treating them exactly how the world, society, employers, and friends will treat them. It’s not good to raise entitled, spoiled children.
Ah, fuck. What do I know? I’m only telling myself these things to make myself feel better. But I shouldn’t, and don’t really feel all that bad, for being a “different” kind of parent and neither should you. It’s ok to mentally ask your child “for fuck’s sake, what now?” after hearing “momma” called for the hundredth time a day. I know this because so far my children are alive, seem to love me and seem to be doing well with others, in public, in different situations and in childhood and I mentally cuss these children all the time.
I could allow this to eat at me since I’m a single parent, their father is dead and I am not dating anyone to offset my parenting style, but I don’t. I can’t really. I focus on the more important stuff: they’re fed, happy and sometimes clean, for fuck’s sake.
I’m unsettled tonight and am unable to sleep. I have this strong urge to be creative with paints and canvases, knives and clay, but remember that I cannot paint or sculpt. Alas, I can write. I can free my mind of my thoughts and hope I can sleep.
I’m just laying here thinking about the life I’m wasting. I stand at my desk at work and become so frustrated. I’m working but thinking, I could be home doing this with clothes in the washer, a sprinkler on, my dogs being let out on occasion instead of holed up and unable to run. I could be walking my treadmill while on this conference call. I could be typing outside and getting vitamin D.
Yet I’m anchored to a desk or table all day and the thought of this infuriates me. It sickens me and saddens me. How did I get this way? Why have I let my wandering soul and mind become confined to a job, an office, a company? At least I have a window in the office I share now. Do you know what it does to one’s psyche to be in an windowless office 40 hours a week? It destroys you.
I write about this. I complain about this, but I can’t see a way out. I still have to work to provide for myself and my children. I’m just miserable doing it. I don’t see how people go to work every day of their lives just to live to enjoy tomorrow.
Why can’t we all enjoy today? Tomorrow is not promised. And we will probably just be working tomorrow and we won’t enjoy it either. We work today with the hopes that tomorrow something will change and this will be the last day of our misery. But how often do you see that happening? Only lottery winners and rich housewives come to mind.
Do I suffer through my job for another 30 plus years to hopefully retire one day at an age when I may not be as healthy or as active? I may not be able to hike rainforests or dance on the streets of Madrid at sunset. Do I eat, sleep, and “live” my life in the free hours that I have around work? But I need sleep to function for work. I need to wash clothing, iron clothing, meal prep, get ready for work. I drive 45 minutes in. I drive 45 minutes home. All for work. Is it really worth it to live a life like this?
This all saddens me but I don’t know what to do to change it. But I want to write. I want to share my thoughts with you and it is what I love to do. I wish in some way this could provide income for me one day and complete satisfaction. More than likely not going to happen. It really is a sad state of mind. I feel I have so much more to offer you all than what I can convey through this blog. But I absolutely get a great deal of pride and joy when I see my stats and see that people are reading this blog. This excites me more than anything! I read comments about how I’ve helped you and I feel like I’ve worked a miracle. In someway I like to think I can save lives; cure boredom; cause a smile, a chuckle, a tear. I wish to entertain but move you all in ways that painters and sculptors do. I long to be set free and attain total happiness. I’d love to find a way to be more successful at this, as this is doing what I truly love. Which brings me to the next topic I need to blog about: parenting…
I want to step outside, walk to the end of my driveway and run. Run until I cramp. Run until I can’t breathe. Run until I cry.
But I can’t. I’ve got 2 kids I can’t leave alone.