Thursday, August 30, 2007
I have had a perfectly awful day today. I really hate reading some one's blog when all they do is complain, so if you're not in the mood skip this one... but I guess that's kind of what I need to do today. It might be PMS. It might be early menopause. It might just be my life as it is today...
I am a teacher and a mom and a wife and a daughter and a friend and a niece and a neighbor and....
I am so tired of being "happy" when I feel so empty. Today, all I want is someone to notice me and see that I am drowning in all of this emptiness.
I want my husband to look at me. I want my children to listen and respond. I want the students to be fed and ready to learn. I want them to be kind to each other. I want them to be kind to me. I want my mother to scoop me up and hold me like I hold my daughters. I want my friends to reach out to me and notice my pain and listen when I hurt. I want to let my vines grow over the fence and listen while my neighbor thanks me for adding something beautiful to this world. I want the dog to get off of the bed so I can stretch out my legs. I want a complete stranger to tell me that I am beautiful. I want my daughters to tell me that I am beautiful. I want my husband to tell me I am beautiful and really mean it. I want to believe what all of those people tell me. I want what I don't have. I don't want what I do have. I want my parents to quit the lessons for the day. I want to hear less of what I "should" do or what I "could" do. I want to hear more of "that was just great." I want things to be easy. I want to have the energy to do the things that are hard. I want my bedroom to be painted and the laundry to be done and the bathroom to be cleaned and the windows to be washed and the children to be happy and the dog to be fed and the husband to be wealthy and the mortgage to be paid and the grass to be mowed and the fridge to be clean and the stairs to be swept and the basement to be clean and the flowers to bloom forever. and I want to be happy.
But I am a great actor. I always have been. It's what sets me apart from everyone else. And I will continue to act like I have it all together and I will reach out to those in need and I will ask for forgiveness when my vine is overgrown and I will comfort the students and feed the students and teach the students and I will be nice to everyone I see and I will listen to my children when they demand that I hear them and I will tuck up my legs so the big dog has room on the comfy bed and I will pretend that I feel beautiful and I will quit asking my husband if I am beautiful and I will pretend not to notice when nobody sees me and I will pretend not to care when nobody hears me and I will laugh at the jokes that I've heard too many times and I will listen to the lessons because I know that they are all just trying to help and I will act like I don't care if someone else ate the leftovers in the fridge that I wanted to eat even thought I hate leftovers, but this one time I really wanted what was once mine and I will swell up with nothing, growing more numb every day until it is winter and I can wrap myself in sweaters and scarves and coats and hats and then no one will really see the then. and no one will see the pain and the emptiness. And I won't tell them. I will laugh and smile with my pretty face. And everyone will love me. And life will go on. And I will care for everyone else in my life and I will be. Empty.
And tomorrow will be tomorrow. Maybe it will be different. Maybe not.
It is possible that I may not feel this way. Or maybe I will. But I know that I will be greeted with kisses and hugs from the kids and the husband and the dog and the persistent cat and the children and the friends and the sun will rise and take my breath away again and the problems will melt and the big ones will be survived and life will go on.