Undone

MY week isn’t complete until someone tells me what it means to be a mom.

I like to think I’m… OPEN minded, but the truth is, that sometimes the things that the average person says could be mildly offensive.

IMO, and from what I’ve seen, mom’s who put 100% into their kids grow up with bratty kids, and are a husk their former self. Do things that YOU like to once in a while. Your children WONT wither and die if you aren’t watching them every minute. My mom had her hands full with us 5 kids and I don’t think she did a dang thing for herself, other than shower. Does that count? not really! My mom is/was an amazing mom. She was there for me all the time, and loved spending time with me. I loved spending time with her. I also spent time with kids my age and I learned really fast that kids my age were usually just jerks. I would say… 7 times out of 10. Anyway, I liked hanging out with my mom. I remember when I was like… 10 … maybe a little younger I didn’t have any money (because I was 10 and my parents didn’t do the allowance thing. If we wanted money for something we had to work for it.) and I really wanted my mom to get a new shirt. Nothing fancy (though the shirt was pretty IMO that she ended up getting) I just … I wanted MORE for her. I think my mom taught me a great lesson about considering others. I’m not always the best at it… She ended up buying the shirt for herself, but I encouraged her.

As much as I love my mom (and In case you haven’t gotten the point, I DO!) I don’t want to be the mom who doesn’t buy herself a new shirt for 10 years because the kids need school clothes and it doesn’t matter how I look as long as they look good. I’m important too. And for that matter, so Is my mom. I think she’s recovering from the post mom disorder now and takes better care of herself now, but I want to break the cycle. I may not go to the salon all the time, and I dont’ get pedicures, but I want my kids to see that not only am I their mom, I’m a PERSON. I have hobbies, and likes and dislikes. I’m not their servant, I’m HUMAN. I want my kids to know they can rely on me in a pinch, BUT that they should work so they don’t have to.

I love my kids. I love my family.

On the note of my obsession, and such… I was thinking about it this week. As I tend to do (am I obsessed with the fact that I get obsessed?) and I was thinking “i’ve done this forever” My first obsession… I would say Dolls… or reading. I still like dolls, I guess I haven’t outgrown that yet. Reading though. That burned hot and fast, and I would say by 4-5th grade I was bored with it. I still am. On occasion something captures my interest and I will read it, again and again, but usually I just can’t hack it.

Interesting? Eh.

Derringer Meryl [Updates] Out

First and foremost is that I have to interact with people, obviously not everyone in the world likes what I like, and honestly that’s the mother flippin’ spice of life. Right? Everyone can’t be the same, that’d be DULL and bothersome.

What was I saying… Oh Yes I have to interact with people and they are often DONE with me and my blathering on about things far before I am.  Which is unfortunate. I am not just obsessive about TV shows, when I was a teenager I obsessed about boys … and not in general, i would latch on to a boy and turn my hooks in until he couldn’t stand me, and then I would become OBSESSED (usually lasting months) about WTF went wrong. Someone finally got the balls to tell me it was me, and I was able to work some stuff out in my brain. I learned to hold back.

When I find something that I think is BRILLIANT for me personally I tend to gush. With boys I could hold back after a while because I learned I was damaging my relationships by obsessing. But when it comes to things I”m trying to absorb and work out, I need to rake over it like 40 million times, In my head in a day. What was that thing in the background, did I see something in the mirror? What did those symbols mean? That kind of thing. But also lesser things. Little things about why I love specific characters so much. Why did the writing there make me cry, why do I love the characters so much? I like knowing little facts and passing them on. They make me feel smarter.

{As an aside I have a “I am dumb” complex from growing up with four older brothers, some of which were very insistent on how stupid I was. Because I was a girl, because I was young. THe thing is, I”m still fairly young (I’m no spring chicken, but Most people on the east coast my age don’t even have kids, they’re partying So… whatever) and I have always carried this “I can’t do that” feeling with me. So 5 seconds of reciting some smart fact about a tv show provides cheap and needed thrills}

I finished series 4 of the reboot of doctor who, and cried. I’m sure we’ll never see Rose again. I know things have changed on the show now, and I”m just not sure how to feel about it. David Tennant’s 10th Doctor was angst incorporeal form, I need that sometimes. it was angst with a sugar coating of humor. It gave you the feeling that you could be that Shop girl and be rescued/taken away like Rose Tyler, or a Temp at an Agency working day to day 9-5, no one ever telling you that you were pretty or smart, just doing what it took to get by. And someone could step into your life and it wasn’t so much that the Doctor tells them they’re brilliant, or wonderful, or amazing, he’s just holding a mirror up and showing them how wonderful, brilliant, amazing, fantastic (etc) they can be, and letting them be that way.

I feel like I need to find that outlet. Not in a person. I don’t need a person to validate me, I need to validate me. I need to look into the mirror and see how lovely, amazing, worthwhile, incredible, strong, beautiful and sweet I am. I still have a problem with mirrors, after all these years (for those who dont’ know, I have been terrified of mirrors since I was 5 thanks to someone telling me a super awesome ghost story!) and I think it transitioned at some point from scared to look because of the monster/ghosts/whatever might be there, to just being terrified of me.

I started a story I’ll probably never finish, and in it the character stares at herself in the mirror, and the thoughts in her head, they build until the person that she sees is ugly, and reprehensible. She cannot bear to look any more and so she shatters the mirror, and slices her hands up in the process. It’s a magnifying glass on how I feel.

It’s massively unhealthy, the way I am right now. I don’t lack the capability of being healthy. I simply need to put more positivity into my life. I need to infuse myself with less angst. Sure, angst is great for teenagers, and television characters; but I wallow, because of my obsessiveness. I drown myself in it. I roll around in the sadness and the misery until I can find my way back to where i”m happy again. It can take months, It has taken me years this time. Over three. I may never find the answer as to why I am sad. I may never be able to see clearly what’s going on, even in my head. But I need to learn to rise above it, and grasp for something better.  I think I’m going to try publishing something I write, even just a little drabble… On here once a week. I want to get back to where I was. I don’t want to laugh at high school me who wanted to write. I can never succeed if I never try. I may never be famous, or celebrated, but I can be happy. I can be happy.

Derringer Meryl [Just try] Out

In case you didn’t catch on, I’m stuck on Doctor Who.

The thing is, when you have a universe… or is it an universe, that sounds odd… whatever. When you have a universe with so few rules, it opens your mind up. I feel like I’m getting inspired, and I’m not inspired to write fanfiction, it’s more of a “what if there was a universe where this could happen?” or “maybe a person could travel like this?” and I feel like the stories are small now, But I feel like I could make it more.
It gives me hope. I think that’s part of my depression. It’s my realism fighting against me dreaming. I would love to write, a book, a story, a universe, a movie, anything, that could capture the world’s attention. I’d love to write something. I’ll have to start writing all of these things down.

Derringer Meryl [Who?] Out

I am currently experiencing a unique crisis.

I feel that popular culture is an excellent mirror inwards to yourself, or can be if done well. In particular the things you’ve left unaccomplished.

You see: When I was a teenager I wanted to become an actress. I think a lot of kids did, it’s the in thing to do. As an adult I can see that my extreme social anxiety and lack of motivation to try harder would have been great stumbling blocks. Also, I’m a rubbish actress. I could have gotten better, but my parents wanted something else for me, and well… Who doesn’t want to please their parents?  Probably quite a few teenagers. I am the real world equivalent of “failure to launch” and I feel as though I am the latest of bloomers (which sounds odd). I am married, I have two wonderful kids

But, I don’t love me.

I have been feeling a discontentment rising within myself lately. I have this continuous loop of disapproval running through my head. That I’m broken, I’m weird, I’m a freak, that I should be ashamed. I’m not sure where all the negativity comes from. My parents were good parents, they love(d, now and then) me. I am the apple of their eye, and as my dad always says, his favorite daughter. Which is really easy when I”m the only one.

I have big dreams. I keep them locked and hidden away. I want to travel, I want to make something great, I want to be great, I want people to know who I am and I just want to stand out from the crowd a little. I don’t want to be the imaginary friend anymore. Which is what I call myself at work because despite being a trainer, and the first person that everyone in my department goes through to get hired, I am easily forgotten. I am desperately lonely.

I have been watching Doctor Who lately. It inspires me to think about my goals. How awesome would it be to write for TV? How awesome would it be to have someone read what I write, Period. Having someone read what I write and like it, it’s the ultimate high, for me anyway, the mormon girl who gets sick from taking too many tylenol.
(Sukie I promised less sadsack I know, but I can’t help how I’m feeling)

A friend of mine has a friend who used to write for Doctor Who. Which is amazing. I lack the confidence to even try writing much of anything. And as sad as it is, I admire Stephenie Meyer still because even though her writing isn’t like War and Peace or anything, I admire her for carving out time in her life for herself to accomplish something. I don’t feel like I deserve it. I think If I could find out why I hate myself so much it’d be the key to everything.

I’m the person who restarts her tetris game if one piece is out of place, I trash it and start over. It’s not perfect, and so it’s useless. Maybe that’s it. I’m not perfect, so I’m useless. What a horrible train of thought. Maybe I have a hard time remembering that God Loves me still or something. Or maybe it doesn’t matter who else in the flippin’ Universe does, because If I can’t find something awesome to love about me, it doesn’t really matter who else does.

Another friend of mine recently visited. She lives in Washington, which I still find more glamorous than my life. We were going to meet up. I thought about it a lot. and I just felt like “My house isn’t clean, and I’m up like 70+lbs since she saw me last, I think I’d rather die.” which once again, isn’t a great way to think. How much of my life am I going to let pass me by because I’m not perfect? Why am I so afraid to fail. Who is going to be mad at me? I will I suppose and that’s bad enough.

When I was in high school, I had a really great friend who asked me what I was doing after high school, and I said that I’d probably get married (I had no prospects of such in sight, despite having a VERY non-serious dating relationship with a guy.) and she was disappointing me in me for not wanting more for myself.  Maybe that’s just it. I’ll live a half life. A life full of mistakes and disappointments, for not taking what I could get. I had a teacher in college who thought all of my stuff should be prose, but I’m crap at prose (was and still am) I’m better at vignette’s for the imagery. Why can’t i ask myself to do more, go outside of the box, and dig deep and give MORE.

I’m a compare-r. I compare a lot. To the people around me, the people my age. What have I done with my life?
Maybe I’m thinking about it too hard. Maybe not hard enough. I just want people to remember me.

Derringer Meryl [Help] Out

I have been more burned out than I am now, FOR SURE, but I am kind of sick of everything.
Maybe If I were more mature things would be in line better. Maybe If I were more disciplined. I’m SO exhausted. I feel like every day is all running. wake up, run wake katie up, fight her to get dressed, go to work, fight to stay focused and get lots done, then fight home in traffic, fight to get the house clean, fight to get something done, fight the urge to roll into bed until the next day, fight the kids on getting in the bath, then fight them to get out, fight with them on how many stories they get, yes it’s time for bed, yes brush your teeth, yes jammies on, no you don’t get 3 stories, you get one for how much you’ve argued. Go to bed, stop kicking your sister. Once they SEEM to be to sleep I take time for myself while running laundry through.

Send the kids back to bed, then go to bed myself (like at 12-1 in the morning) and start all over.

Oh and don’t forget the calls during the day of “Did you get Katie to school? are you going to pick her up?” call and confirm the dentist, call and schedule the doctor.

Remind, remember, remind, remember. I feel like I have a shit-ton (excusez-moi for my french) that I’m doing, all the time. Every day at work is crunch, and HEY why don’t I heap more responsibilities onto what you do, but we won’t be giving you a raise for your increased responsibilities.

I do like doing what I’m doing, I just don’t feel like I’m fairly compensated for the time I’m levying into them. I wish I could find those FREAKING books. They’re like $2 books in quality, but I’m sure if we have to pay to replace them, they’ll be $30 each … GOSH.

I was talking with my boss the other day and I said I’d love to have copies of myself. One to be at work, one to be at home, and one to goof off (and we’d cycle through which of us got to do what each day), so we could all be balanced. I just… feel like I could use an extra set of hands. Someone to do the laundry while I’m trying to get the kids in bed. One person set on permanent “SEARCH FOR LOST STUFF” mode I guess. *sigh*
Somedays I feel like I’m the only person who cares. i’m one person running the lives of four. I’m exhausted.

Derringer Meryl [D-O-N-E] Out