Mom says I blog because all of the people who "sing my praises" for the things I write give me a false sense of affirmation. I write because I feel better after I do. It's been that way since before I can remember. All of my writing used to be repentance and apologetics and pleas for forgiveness. Now I find myself doing all of that after I write, or because I write. I still haven't decided which side of that coin is less painful. I guess I'm much happier now, since I continue to do it and it seems to alienate all of the people who have always required repentance and apologetics from me. Except god. Funny how he's still there even when I'm not painting sunlight and roses with my words. He doesn't need me to live in happyland unreality to be around me.
As much as I want, and sometimes try to pretend that my life is a beautiful happy dreamland, the truth is that right now, for the past several years, and for the foreseeable future, this road is long, hard, and exhausting. Not that we don't have fun along the way, I tend to make sure of that in my own selfish ways, but it is an unnatural lifestyle. One of me, four of them, a shittanked economy, no marketable skills from my widely varied background, and a lot of emotional baggage. If I could just decide where to start. I think I gave up on the baggage after my counseling attempts just left me more bitter. So it's focusing on those hard to find marketable skills that still leave me time to raise the outnumbering quartet. But the hard thing is, like dating, in the job world, it's the whole package, kids, baggage, fat dog and all. It's terribly inconvenient, and downright frightening for most prospective boyfriends/employers. So my new tactic is omitting unnecessary details when I'm pitching myself. Until they become necessary. Which is usually a bit early in the conversation than I had hoped.
But I'm coming to terms, albeit grudgingly, with the fact that I am, and will, for an undetermined and predictably lengthy period of time, single. I am truthfully working on being happy by myself. Well, ok, not really alone, but without a confidant or a friend or a someone to lean on. Sometimes I catch myself wanting to lean on the girls, and reprimand me for my selfishness and neediness. So
Every time I start to think poor me, nobody wants a frumpy mother of four with dubious contributable traits for any kind of relationship, I instead try to focus on how strong this is making me, and healthy, and prepared for anything. Ok. It sucks. But I will not be desperate and I will make the best of it.
And this whole family thing, being the blacksheep and all. Destroying the perfect harmony of the extended family. I am finally working through the guilt of not "honoring" my parents, a deadly and unforgiveable sin, according to the patriarchal Nazi with no wife or family, bill gothard. I have never allowed myself to consider being angry with them for the way I was raised, the grooming for marble, the pounding down of my worth as a human being since I was born female, useful only to bear children, stumble men into wickedness, and manipulate the world around me. I couldn't judge them, or condemn. They are my parents. I owe them honor. But then again, according to those laws I should be dead. So should my parents. My kids. Everyone. I'm kinda over it. I mean, it's already been established they I'm going to hell. Why am i trying so hard to save my soul by redirecting my parents for the effort they made is raising me as righteously as possible, even at the expense of my mind and soul. It's not that I think they Ever intended any of this to go so far south, but when it did (ie marble, david), they ran so fast and so far from responsibility it was a triple whammy of guilt, self condemnation, and rejection all rolled into a self righteous display of finger pointing and image preservation. It all adds up really. I remember getting the image lecture about representing the family when we would go out for hamburgers in Portland. I couldn't have been more than six.
I don't know. The more I think I learn, the more I find out I don't know, and never will. We only get one shot at this life and I've done my performing and Ass kissing. Probably more than my share. It's time to move on. To teach my girls to take it on the chin and push through, and don't slow down for the doubting thomases and the denying peters. Time will tell. Truth will prevail. Day will come, sun will shine and we'll be fine.
(assuming the spiders in the new house don't eat us.)
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