With my head.
I don’t blog more because, frankly, every day there is something. Something to add. Something new.
So I wait until things settle.
But they don’t.
My God. They don’t.
My daughter’s activities are never ending.
My son’s activities are never ending.
My husband needs to have his space. Because that’s who he is.
And I love them all three. I want to experience all of their activities, be a part of all their needs.
But I love my friends.
I need my friends.
I want to do everything my friends have planned.
And it’s March.
Because in March, basketball is EVERYTHING to me. Well, almost. Those three people, sigh. Basketball is number four in March.
And I need to call my mom more. Because she needs me.
And I need to see my grandmother more. Because I love her.
And I need to connect with my cousin the hermit more. Because I miss her.
But my country is in flames.
Donald Trump is my waking nightmare.
And I have to help. Have to keep working behind the scenes, in ways others don’t know I’m working. Being an activist, using my past connections delicately, prudently, to try and change things the next election.
I’m not sitting idle. I promise. You just don't know that I'm not sitting idle.
And I’m not exercising. Because I’m tired. Because I don’t care.
But I DO care. I don’t ever want to gain the weight back.
And it weighs on me.
So I’m on my second glass of wine tonight. Because it tastes good. And now I’m putting this on paper, so it’s an outlet. Like steam escaping from my new pressure cooker.
The pressure cooker that allowed me to make four different meals today that I can freeze. So that when I work late I can have something thawed for my family to eat.
They don't function the same when I'm not home taking care of things. And before you judge, I WANT to be home to take care of things. It is a way I show my family that I love them and I like it.
I'm a mix. A modern day woman, colored hair to boot, with the Greatest Generation's influence that leaves me feeling warm and satisfied when I cook for my family. When I'm THERE for them.
Because I’ve been working a little more lately, worried about my co-workers. We are a small crew and I’m just a part-time helper. But when several of us need time off there is no one else. It’s not my job to fix, but I care. I love my co-workers. I love my boss. I love the store.
I just breathed for the first time since I started typing.
And in that breath, I thought of Rhyan Loos. And her fight. My niece Hannah and the fight she lost. My cousin Rachael and the roller coaster of fights she has lived through.
I thought of my friends, who are struggling in their marriages.
I thought of my kid's peers and their own personal battles, from divorced homes to self-esteem issues and a myriad of themes, many of which we all have a connection to.
I thought of relatives…who I avoid. Because it’s awkward…not traditional…forced, obligated, when I don’t know them. Haven’t ever connected. Because my “story” isn’t normal. Yet I feel guilt. For not connecting.
And I feel like a failure. Deep, deep disappointment over a goal I had set. A training applied to with Department of Justice that I was rejected for. Because of the employment gap that I wrote about some time ago. The gap for those of us who leave our careers to stay home with our families. I knew this would happen.
The gap reared her ugly head and is the reason I was rejected. I feel humiliated. Washed up. Fear that I would be unable to provide for my family if I had to.
I breathe again. Sigh. Let it out.
I know in my head, yeah, in my heart, that this is all normal. I’m normal. My doubts, fatigue, worry and stress are normal and actually far less than the worry many others shoulder.
I bring it around.
First World Problem.
We are healthy.
I’ll say it again.
We. Are. Healthy.
That’s all that matters.
I can breathe again, while feeling relief that I can sleep now...because I remember the most important thing. The one thing that none of us can control and the one thing that can destroy us.
We. Are. Healthy.
And I’m good now.