On the eve of my much anticipated 30th birthday, I am in a pensive, melancholy mood. A thought crossed my mind for probably the 35 thousandth time this morning – I want to go back to school. No, that’s not true. I don’t really want to go back to school. I don’t have the money for it. I definitely don’t have the time. But I know what I want to be when I grow up, finally. I can’t think of anything I’m better suited for, actually (besides event coordinating, but I’m not giving up my nights and weekends).
However, it is apparent that I’d need to go back to college and I’d have to start completely over and get a Bachelor’s in Psychology. And the field basically requires graduate school. Do I really want to be a new freshman at 31? Do I want to compromise my family and home life? Do I wait 3 years till my youngest is in school? And what if I’m not smart enough? Committed enough? Young enough?
I loved college. I loved every minute of it. It’s where I finally found myself. But it was a loooong time ago. I got the degree I’d planned for since I was a little girl. I work in the field I’d dreamed of. I’m GOOD at what I do. Great, even?
But I have had this nagging feeling for half my life that I’d be ever better at something else. The hurdle was too big to cross at the time – I was too anxious to start “real” life. Now I am so entrenched in real life that the same hurdle is mountains high.
People do it though, every day. They do it and they come out better for it. I’ll have to give up all my hobbies, which at this point I’m just getting back to after having kids. I’ll actually have to apply myself and study and TRY – believe it or not through high school and college I never, ever, once studied and most often did my homework and papers right before class. I still had all A’s too. So I know I’m smart enough to float by but at this age and with this sort of aspiration, it would have to be different.
I’m spewing now and not even trying to come up with a coherent, well written blog. But it’s more than I’ve written in a few months, so take it for what it is.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
A little bit louder now
Yesterday, I had one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had. I thought I was dying. My hands were shaking. My legs were numb. The edges of my vision became hazy and black. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was racing. I started to black out.
But I didn’t.
I clicked send on my email. Took the deepest breath. My vision cleared and my lungs filled with air. My heart continued to race, but I had strength and clarity. The world hadn’t stopped turning and the fires of hell didn’t rain down over me.
Why the dramatics?
Because I finally - after 7 years of torment – broke up with her. I did it! She tried controlling me one too many times. The voice of reason slapped me across the face and said, “Listen you stupid hooker, you don’t need to take this!” I think I was more scared of that than what I was about to do, but the important thing is now I feel FREE.
I still have panic and dread whenever I see her name or she calls my phone (all night) or texts or emails, or when she logs in and out of IM. I'm still shaky. But I'm moving toward the light... I'll delete her and block her over time. It's over. I am so relieved.
But I didn’t.
I clicked send on my email. Took the deepest breath. My vision cleared and my lungs filled with air. My heart continued to race, but I had strength and clarity. The world hadn’t stopped turning and the fires of hell didn’t rain down over me.
Why the dramatics?
Because I finally - after 7 years of torment – broke up with her. I did it! She tried controlling me one too many times. The voice of reason slapped me across the face and said, “Listen you stupid hooker, you don’t need to take this!” I think I was more scared of that than what I was about to do, but the important thing is now I feel FREE.
I still have panic and dread whenever I see her name or she calls my phone (all night) or texts or emails, or when she logs in and out of IM. I'm still shaky. But I'm moving toward the light... I'll delete her and block her over time. It's over. I am so relieved.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I am a Working Mom.
I was emailing a friend today about stay at home moms and how I can’t ever be one. It’s fine if you call me a weakling. I’ll go ahead and admit that I am. I have limits. I do love my kids and I cherish the time that I spend with them because I work out of the house. When I had just one kid, I longed to stay home with her. I didn’t mind giving up all of my time, hobbies, appearance and sleep just to dote on her. She benefitted from that. I am positive that all the time I spent with her has made her the smart and positive child she is today.
However, things changed when I had my 2nd child. He was and always has been excessively needy. Devilishly cute, cuddly and loving – don’t get me wrong – this kid is amazing. He just sucks the life out of me, though. His needs trump everything and everyone else. He is temperamental, and at age 2, we’re all conditioned (my oldest included) to jump to his every beck and call because NO ONE wants to see the beast. Because of that, my patience for my children has become limited. The time that I spend with them in the evening is very hands-on. We play together – everything from dress up tea-parties to hide and seek, tag, board games, reading, wii. I don’t sit and watch my kids play because I am away from them for so many hours each day and I miss them.
Lou is 6 now. She was home sick from school yesterday. Our day was pleasant, despite her illness. She is self-sufficient. She is easily amused. She is not demanding and so very easy going. She literally spoiled me by being my first experience as a mommy. If I’d had devil child first, he would most likely be an only child. I spent all day with her, loving the rare time we get to be alone together. At 4pm, I picked up Devil Child from daycare, and the demands began. In the 4 hours until bedtime, I felt my exhaustion increase 10 fold and my patience decrease to negative 100. I found myself snapping and twitching at both of them, which was totally undeserved because they were both doing exactly what they do every night – being kids. I realized that I’ve become conditioned to only dealing with them for 4 hours a night, and anything over that is cutting into “me” time. I’ll admit, I’m selfish. I NEED “me” time. Add to the fact that I have a husband – with whom I carpool everyday (2 hours) , take lunches with (1 hour) and then spend at least 2-3 hours with at night hanging out... There’s little to no “Me” time in there, EXCEPT for the time I’m at work. Weekends never seem to bother me. I’m up with the kids each morning and our days together are fantastic, even if we don’t leave the house the entire time. I never get overwhelmed on the weekends like I do on a weeknight.
Aside from “Me” time, I also require peace and quiet, something that is rare when more than one child is in a room. My ears/head/sensory can only handle so much before I feel overloaded and panicky. It’s something I’m working on, but it takes a lot to overcome. I found myself saying a little mental prayer for all the SAHM out there – those brave, saintly souls. I bow to you. I appreciate you. I will never be like you, and that’s ok.
However, things changed when I had my 2nd child. He was and always has been excessively needy. Devilishly cute, cuddly and loving – don’t get me wrong – this kid is amazing. He just sucks the life out of me, though. His needs trump everything and everyone else. He is temperamental, and at age 2, we’re all conditioned (my oldest included) to jump to his every beck and call because NO ONE wants to see the beast. Because of that, my patience for my children has become limited. The time that I spend with them in the evening is very hands-on. We play together – everything from dress up tea-parties to hide and seek, tag, board games, reading, wii. I don’t sit and watch my kids play because I am away from them for so many hours each day and I miss them.
Lou is 6 now. She was home sick from school yesterday. Our day was pleasant, despite her illness. She is self-sufficient. She is easily amused. She is not demanding and so very easy going. She literally spoiled me by being my first experience as a mommy. If I’d had devil child first, he would most likely be an only child. I spent all day with her, loving the rare time we get to be alone together. At 4pm, I picked up Devil Child from daycare, and the demands began. In the 4 hours until bedtime, I felt my exhaustion increase 10 fold and my patience decrease to negative 100. I found myself snapping and twitching at both of them, which was totally undeserved because they were both doing exactly what they do every night – being kids. I realized that I’ve become conditioned to only dealing with them for 4 hours a night, and anything over that is cutting into “me” time. I’ll admit, I’m selfish. I NEED “me” time. Add to the fact that I have a husband – with whom I carpool everyday (2 hours) , take lunches with (1 hour) and then spend at least 2-3 hours with at night hanging out... There’s little to no “Me” time in there, EXCEPT for the time I’m at work. Weekends never seem to bother me. I’m up with the kids each morning and our days together are fantastic, even if we don’t leave the house the entire time. I never get overwhelmed on the weekends like I do on a weeknight.
Aside from “Me” time, I also require peace and quiet, something that is rare when more than one child is in a room. My ears/head/sensory can only handle so much before I feel overloaded and panicky. It’s something I’m working on, but it takes a lot to overcome. I found myself saying a little mental prayer for all the SAHM out there – those brave, saintly souls. I bow to you. I appreciate you. I will never be like you, and that’s ok.
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