In Which Our Heroine Experiences Catharsis

Yesterday, I took on blogging as Amanda Palmer does- Open and honest. I thoroughly enjoy reading her blog. But I’ll write about that on a happier day. 🙂

Have you ever had one of those days? Just a day where it seems like you keep getting bombarded with things meant to throw you off kilter? Yes. Today is one of those days for me.

It’s extremely difficult for me to open myself like this, but I think that in writing this and getting it out, someone might understand or experience the same thing.

Fair warning, it’s angsty, so I don’t blame you for opting out now. It is also really long and jumps around a lot.

Posting this public makes me feel a bit hypocritical, seeing as I wrote a blog post about keeping things happy or uplifting when blogging. My mood ebbs and flows like the tumulus ocean, and some days… I feel a little like the gulf coast – destroyed.

Perhaps it’s the blood flowing out of my body. Gross? Some people might see it that way. It seems like every time I start my period, I tend to lash out, frenzy, or take things too hard. I think it might be my bodies natural reaction to another possible life lost. And if you’re a dude and getting disgusted with this stuff… Really? Girls bleed. End of story.

In all of my fantasies for the future, I have seen myself as a mother. When I was younger, I was so overweight I developed polycystic ovarian syndrome. The idea of having a child then became more of a drive. I wanted to prove the doctors wrong. I wanted to show them that I could have a child and could be a fantastic mother.

Now, I’m 27 years old and find myself faltering. I feel as if I am stuck in a dead end job and (though I know what I want to do with my life) I don’t know how to pull myself up by the straps and mosey on. With age comes bills. It’s very true that the older you get, the deeper roots grow to keep you where you are.

As a child, I never had to worry about making a car payment, setting aside earnings to pay off a mortgage, or figuring out which credit card was going to be paid. Because of that, as a younger adult I went through an intense life lesson with the perils of credit cards. I think that senior year of highschool, they should have me come in and tell them my story. Kind of a “don’t do what I fucking did” public service.

The thing is, with the cold coming and going to visit many different places this year… I’ve realized that this is not where I’m meant to be. I can’t just pack up and leave though. I have a lot of things tying me down. Unfortunately, none of them are a loving, committed relationship with the prospect of kids.

I used to think that my main issue with work is that I was underappreciated. Now that I’m getting all of this appreciation, my main issue is that I’m being underpaid. Of course, everyone feels that way. It irks me to no end that things require money. I’m sure that I could survive with a few dollars a week, but when I find that I’m depressed I always think shopping will take me out of the funk.

I have made leaps and bounds from the gluttonous person I was, with food and shopping. When I do spend a few dollars I still get the nagging feeling that I’m doing it for some stupid reason. I think that’s why I get so overwhelmed around the holidays. I worry endlessly about what to get someone that I just end up buying something for myself then spend the remainder of the day freaking out about not having a gift for someone.

The season of giving? The idea that I need a holiday to dictate that I should be giving with friends is laughable. When I find a gift for someone in March, I don’t wait for a holiday to send it to them. I just give it. “Happy Arbor day! I bought you these mittens on clearance because they are sparkly and have cherries on them. Can’t wait for summer!” When I want to treat someone to a movie because I can afford it and want their company, I do it. Alternately when people do that for me I’m baffled as to why they do it.

I’m not friends with someone for the gifts that they give me. That’s never been me. If I want something I’ll buy it or save up to get it. I’m extremely moved and grateful when someone does give me something, but something inside me chastises me for not getting them something in return. That’s how gifts work, right? Someone gives you something, you give them something. I know that’s not how everyone sees it. I don’t know if it was a part of my upbringing to feel shame when I couldn’t give back to someone.

[[I know that I am all over the place. I’m just trying to get out all of my feelings so I can figure out WHY I’m in such a foul mood.]]

Plus, I was informed of the possibility of working a half day on Christmas Eve. They way that my job works is that they grant us SIX holidays a year. SIX. There’s New Years Day, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. If for some reason one of those holidays lands on a weekend, the holiday is the closest M-F day. This year, I was stoked to find that Christmas was on a Saturday. That meant that I would be able to spend Christmas Eve with my family!

Christmas Eve has been my parent’s day. They host a swing-by shindig with tons of food before they go to church. Then I head to a friend’s house for a nightcap. Christmas Day has been our travel day. I have worked with this company for over five years now. This is the FIRST Christmas Eve that I would be able to fully spend with my family.

When a half day was mentioned to me, I flipped out. I severely flipped out. I was hell-bent on stating that if I was told I had to work a half day I would be giving my two weeks notice. In retrospect, I’m going to be the biggest liar if we have to. I can’t quit my job. I have bills to pay. *grumble* Stupid adult life and all of the responsibilities that come with it.

I’ve been listening to people arguing about shit everywhere I go. It raises my hackles to hear people being intentionally cruel to each other. It’s totally different when you’re the one arguing, because you know the purpose of the argument and you have been there the whole time. When a couple walks by me and the only thing I hear is “and you wonder why your first wife left you”, I want to take a shovel to someone’s dome.

Fights can provoke all of the nasty that has been festering in your brainpan and unleash it without the benefit of a tact filter. I’ve done it. Sometimes I do it because I’ve had enough of being criticized and have reached the level of shame necessary for me to start hitting back. Admittedly, I have a really good memory and it takes a lot for me to pull my verbal punches back so they only sting. I have been called a bitch for doing it. Sadly, it’s not something that I can unlearn. I can try to make it better though.

I don’t want to feel like I’m intentionally hurting someone’s feelings, so I try my hardest not to voice my judgments.  I was actually speaking with someone about this up in Framingham a few weeks ago. I brazenly boasted “I don’t judge” and he cut me off with a laugh and “Yes you do”. It made me stop for a moment and think. Yes, as humans we inherently judge everything that happens around us. After a pause I replied “You’re right. I just don’t talk about the judgments.” I don’t call people out on things publicly.

Sometimes the things that have happened that I have either heard about or witnessed provoke one of my soapbox entries, but I try to make them generic. A specific attack on someone or a certain group is beneath me. I do give people the benefit of the doubt and I reserve my actual judgment because, really, who the fuck am I? Does my opinion really matter to this person in the grand scheme of things?

The only problem with writing up a generic rant is that eventually someone puts an actual face to my universal commentary and if they’re downright cunty (yep… I just wrote that) they tell the person they think is the inspiration for the post. That person in turn reads it, and misconstrues my standpoint. It makes me think that whoever the fuck this “lazy and ignorant informant” is hates me and wants to make me suffer for reasons unknown.

To set the fucking record straight, none of my rants have anything to do with one person. The only time I feel the need to vent about something is when I’m getting it from more than one person.

That brings me to haters. Some people online have tried to slander my name and things I’m involved in. Not fucking cool, but also kind of fucking cool. I guess it means I’m slightly relevant. What sucks is that the end result is that some people feel like they’re poking the bear if they approach me about something they disagree about… One thing I can tell you is that I LOVE playing the Devil’s Advocate, even if I disagree with my side of the argument. The idea that someone can verbalize why they feel differently and we can both leave the conversations smiling/hugging… THAT is what does it for me.

I don’t think that constant debate is necessary, but the ability to use my words to find meaning in someone else’s… That’s a fucking rush. Think “intellectual lady boner”. I’d like to think that I have the aptitude necessary in finding out what makes a person tick (or even what ticks them off).

No, I don’t have a college degree. Shocking? God, I hope so. I am a very intelligent person. I have social skills and a healthy thirst for knowledge. Why do I not have a degree? Long story short, I had a breakdown in late September of 2001 and couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to continue my studies. It is my biggest regret, but at least I still have the time to change that.

When I was accepted into school, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I thought I wanted to do something with music. Sing on Broadway, teach chorus, anything having to do with music. I was quickly ushered away from that prospect.

Once I left school, I took on a full time job and community college. To this day, I’m two credits shy of an associate’s degree. How fucking pathetic, right? Over 9 years, I couldn’t even manage a degree you could get in two. Feel free to beat me up about it, but I don’t think you could make me any more ashamed of myself than I already am.

So hopefully that’s everything that’s bothering me right now. Listlessness and the knowledge that I could be doing so much more with my life.

It’s like my brain is kicking me in the face.

I flat out commend all that finished this post and I also feel the need to apologize. I don’t publicly vent like this. I think the world is full of depressing things, my blog doesn’t need to be one of them. I will try to keep this down to a once a year thing were it to ever happen again.

Ugh. I feel naked right now.

Read 4 comments

  1. Well, I’m left speechless by the unabashed nakedness of this post, it reads like a novel of epic proportion. Not to sound like your mother, although I am almost old enough to be, we all have unrequited loves, broken dreams and unanswered prayers forming a jagged trail through our pasts. They are not burdens to carry but stepping stones which have made us who we are, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Think back to when you were a child, I doubt that many of your friends said they wanted to be garbage men or janitors when they grew up. If all of us were able to make our dreams come true we would be a world full of actors, writers, firefighters and astronauts. I joined the Navy at 18, got married at 19 and had my first child at 21. The marriage didn’t last, sometimes things don’t work out no matter how good our intentions. But I moved on, went to college, (6 yrs for a 4 yr degree) and have been about 6 months away from a Bachelors Degree for the past 12 years. I’m now 42 with 3 kids and a great husband but I still wonder what would have been, what I could have become, I think that is something that is ingrained in us all, that perpetual need to ask, “But what if?” I can only speak to you from experience and say that the changes in my life from the age of 27 until now have been nothing short of monumental. You learn that you don’t have to be a success at everything just that ONE thing that makes you truly happy, whatever that may be. I write the occasional story, not to be printed in a magazine where thousands of people will read it, but to read to my kids at bedtime or to just lock it away in a computer file where I can look at it every now and again. We’ve all heard it: “Success isn’t measured by the stuff you have while you’re here but by the things you leave behind when you go.” And in my humble opinion, you’re leaving one hell of a footprint. 🙂

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