Thank you for all your comments on the last post. Mom's not a bad writer, huh?
In a "Sex and the City" episode from either the fifth or sixth season, Miranda was told by her law firm partner that she was slacking off at work. They were concerned that she had been late a few times. She said she was committed to her job, it was home that she was failing at.
When Miranda said she was failing at home, I knew exactly what she meant. It was during my brother's illness that I had those feelings of inadequacy about EVERYTHING I was doing. I had a new baby, a full-time job, and a three hour daily commute. I was doing well at absolutely NOTHING.
There was the sense of absolute spiralling out of control when Ric was diagnosed, then spent the next 11 months going from ICU to remission, to death. Time was fleeting during the hours when I worked and my daughter was in daycare, my parents and brother in the hospital, my then-husband unconcerned about changing what we could to make dealing with the family crisis easier. It was awful. I didn't have time for family because I was too busy driving a ridiculous amount of time every day, spending the entire day away from my baby.
I know. It sounded crazy, even while I was living it.
Despite my mom's orders to the contrary, I have guilt related to that time. When I watched that episode, I felt all of it again. What can I do about it now? Nothing. There's no point to feeling guilty, I know, but sometimes I still do feel guilty. And that's the lesson right there. Learn from your mistakes and move on.
When my dad died the year following my brother of the same godawful illness, I was still in the same situation of working, driving, and daycare. But not for long. A month after he died, I moved out and began my new life as a woman who does not want to live far away from family ever again.
Which is probably why my current situation is so questionable.
I'm trying to decide on a college major, but what I really want to do isn't available here. My husband mentions at least once a day how much he wants to have acreage so he can grow things. I am ready to stuff a pillow in his face if he says it one more time. We are here because of HIM. I live where I do not want to live, for him. What does he want from me? I struggle with resentment over living here. There. I've said it. The world may end now.
More messages, it seems, that I do not belong here. I wonder how long this will continue? I wonder how long I will do this to myself?