Yeah, right. Even the willow, when bent to far, will eventually break.
Lucky me, another week of being a failure. It’s like free-falling: I find myself at the mercy of others, whether that be other people or the world in general. Just for a little while, can’t I go back to the way things were when I wasn’t helpless and hopeless?
Sometimes I try to think back to when–if–there was a time in my life when I wasn’t both the bad guy and the one responsible for everything at the same time. It would be nice to have someone acknowledge me without it being about how I didn’t do something that they wanted or needed or how I did something that they didn’t want me to.
I’m one person. One lowly individual that feels the weight of the world on my shoulders more often than not. As much as everyone seems to think that I can, I simply can’t do everything. In case anyone missed it, I have feelings. I’m not ice inside. When people say things or do things that try me emotionally, I feel it. Sometimes deeper than others, and most times I’m the duck that lets things just roll off my back. But lately…lately, I feel too much, too deeply. Maybe the stress of being everyone’s everything is starting to get to me. Maybe I’m tired of taking the back seat and letting everyone else come first. But it’s not in my nature to put myself ahead of others. I always put my family–my husband and kids–first. On the oh so rare occasion that I don’t, they almost go out of their way to make damn sure that I know I didn’t.
Last night, I got home late–that tends to happen when you’re working 50 some hours a week. The kids were cruising in and out of the kitchen looking for something to eat. Coming up on eight o’clock, Alan mentioned the time, which is meant as a hint that we should probably eat (i.e., I should go make dinner). Once in a blue moon, he’ll make dinner, but not normally. That responsibility still rest firmly on my already overburdened shoulders. Earlier I had said that we were just going to have quesadillas since all of the meat was frozen. Apparently, I fucked up yet again. I thought that I had seen each of the kids go into the kitchen and make something for themselves. Apparently, I was wrong, which was promptly pointed out to me the moment I sat down to eat. One of the kids didn’t make themselves food and it was pointed out to me that I was rude not to make him anything.
Wow. Really?
I offered him my food, I offered to make him something else because he doesn’t like quesadillas anyway. What did I get in return? I got snubbed and left to feel like utter shit. Without eating my own food, I dropped it on the counter and spent the rest of the night in my room. Alone. If people want to treat me like a leper, I’m certainly not going to hang around and let them see me cry, let them see that their comments and actions hurt me.
I woke up thinking–hoping–that today would be better. Things went fine at work with the exception of Christian reminding me that he needed money to take the train home because it was Barb’s weekend and she wasn’t going to pay for his train ticket so I have to pay both ways for him to go. Alan also reminded me that because his front suspension is currently broken after hitting a pipe on the freeway yesterday, that he was going to need to use my car to get Scout stuff done for tomorrow.
I took out a fucking loan to buy him a “new” car, but yet my car still needs the shocks fixed and rear brakes, oh and did I mention that I think it’s burning oil just six months after having the heads rebuilt? Oh, and I’m out of gas, but don’t get paid until Wednesday.
By the time I got off work and made it to the bank to get the money that Christian needed for the train, he had less than 20 minutes to make it from Walnut to downtown Pomona….on a Friday night. Yeah. Not going to happen. Good job, mom, you upset another kid. I guess that’s strike two.
And while I’m driving, Jordan calls me devastated because she needs a dollar to go somewhere and she can’t find her school ID and can I give her three dollars AND take her to a dance or something at the school?
How about no? Does “no” work for you?
Three kids that I’ve upset now. I guess it’s strike three and you’re out.
I think I’ll spend tonight alone in my room again.