Saturday, March 31, 2012

Self-hating Saturday

When I played a sport or worked toward a degree I remember being told that one has to do it for oneself, not for someone else. It's logical then to conclude that it is unacceptable to be living for someone else and not for yourself.

I was in a restaurant after having to give up my Saturday morning (which used to be time for me to be alone, which I need because I find childrearing to be very overstimulating) to watch my son while my husband coached my daughter's soccer game. I can't fairly complain about this change in weekend schedule since I agreed that my husband could/should coach. He needs to have more active activities and something to do that he enjoys and is social besides work. He took both kids for breakfast and I was to meet them at the field. I was in bed when they left, listening to NPR, naturally, and I of course fell asleep. I woke up at game time, when I was supposed to be at the field to watch my son. Not a good wake-up. I pulled on the clothes that I've been wearing for about 2 weeks now and got there in the end of the first quarter. My husband was not even annoyed. A nice grandmother was watching my son with her other young grandkids. No harm done.

My mood, however, has been black. I still want to run off into the woods and hide out in a tree like Katniss Everdeen. Maybe I want to be her. All I could think of as I walked toward the field was how much I hate my life and how ungrateful and awful I am for feeling that way when I'm so lucky to have everything the way that I do. Like a child, I was resentful of the change in my schedule and loss of alone time. But then, I'd pretty much will choose alone time over any interaction with family or friends. At least when I'm alone I don't have to feel guilty for not being good at pretending I'm happy when I'm not. So, after the game, at the restaurant I was making little pictures on my paper placemat with a crayon, trying to summarize things that I actually do enjoy.  None was spending time with people. Yes, I think I must just be overstimulated. But I had that wonderful spa day for my birthday and that was not long ago at all! The benefit from that has got to last me all year!

I can't even write what I'm thinking now about how I don't want to be with anyone unless under certain impossible circumstances because of how hurtful the details would be. And this is all coming from an unemployed, belly-rolled, sagging-faced, brown-eyed, acne-plagued, out of shape mother of two who has the luxury of not having to be at a real job every day with no flexibility in time off. I treat all my time like its time off. That's why the house is a disgusting staging area and not a home.
I want to be a movie character with her body and her life and live in a world where no one ever has to go to the bathroom, everyone eventually finds true love, the world is populated only by the beautiful people and I have a life with status, worth envying, that I can appreciate. I want to feel happy.
I am so spoiled that I don't appreciate that what I have is better than most people can ever hope for. OR, I do recognize it but I still feel awful and so I suppose that what I have is not enough when really the problem is that nothing will make me happy because I can't FEEL happy. I think that is it. Not that winning the $260 million lottery or meeting Josh Hutcherson wouldn't wow me into bliss, but would it last? I had a roommate in grad school who told me that my unhappiness would follow me wherever I go because it's me. I won't find what makes me happy because it can't be done. Would you want to live in a world where you can appreciate beauty and be OK sometimes but almost never actually feel happy?

Nothing can be done. I can't leave my husband and children. I can't handle the stress of real work. There isn't a single thing I want to do that is actually possible and I am trapped. Trapped in this life, in this horrible body, with these horribly shallow desires, not appreciating what I have and being aware of this moral lapse. The only redeeming quality I have is that I love my children like no one else will ever be able to love them.  That forces me to endure.

P.S.  After writing this I had a bit of a cry and curled up in my car and fell asleep.  It seemed I did nothing but dream.  I kept dreaming of trying to wake up and not being able to.  I dreamed I tried to call home for help but couldn't.  I dreamed I was driving but couldn't stay awake and went off a bridge to land softly in a river.  As I went off the bridge I was afraid for a moment, but was pretty sure I was dreaming, which was confirmed by the soft landing.  I needed to wake, I was supposed to wake, but I couldn't break through to do it.  Eventually my husband put the kids in his car and came and found me (we'd driven separately to the restaurant and I was supposed to drive my car home).  So surreal.

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