I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about things lately. There is so much going on inside that I’m having a hard time separating what is and isn’t important. It all feels important. Well, at least to me it does.
I survived my audit at work. Afterwards, I was basically told that if I ever decide to leave the organization the wheels would fall off the cart. I somehow didn’t find that at all reassuring. I don’t know. I feel taken advantage of, left to figure it all out by myself and muddle through the boatloads of work to be done. I took a couple of days off afterwards by calling in sick even though I wasn’t. Then I booked off all of last week. I was tired, unfocused and drained of the place. I’m back now, but I don’t want to be. Part of me wants the wheels to fall off the cart just to see what happens.
Work just feels like a necessary evil lately. I have bills. I have my kids to take care of. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. If I don’t get paid, my kids will suffer. I don’t care about the bills, but I definitely care about my kids. Work has always felt frustrating in some ways.
I think there’s always the nagging feeling that you just don’t get paid enough for what you do. Some people around here get paid way more than what they should, but for those of us working our butts off, it’s as though we will never be adequately compensated. There’s also a bit of jealousy that creeps in from time to time. I’m single, which means a single income. Most of my friends have spouses and those spouses work. That means two incomes. It means the ability to do more things. To buy more things. To allow their kids to go to things without question. I worked hard to get where I am but I feel put out. Right now, I can only stretch my money just far enough to make it between pay dates. There’s nothing left over for emergencies or extra fun times. I’m at the point where I’m literally panicking over what to do for Christmas because there is absolutely nothing left over.
Always in the background, there are of course, the troubles with M. He got suspended from school not too long ago for fighting. I didn’t find out about it until after the fact, just in time for him to come to my house for the weekend. I was given strict instructions on what I was and wasn’t allowed to do with him and basically it boiled down to him having to sit in his room all weekend doing nothing. Then I was told that ‘daddy is working on paperwork for them to become an official family‘ whatever the fuck that means. Of course C was told that he would still be part of the family, it was just that M would be ‘official‘. I didn’t bother asking for any clarification because it would just turn into my ex or his crazy wife screaming at me. I’m trying not to think about it too much because otherwise I’ll make myself nutty over the whole situation. I just wish, for a little while, that things with M would calm down a bit and that maybe his father would go on a long vacation….and never come back again.
And, tried and true, as always, therapy is thrown into the mix. I can’t really explain what’s been happening with therapy. Everything just feels so fucked up with it. Partly it’s the shame of my whole life experience and partly it’s something else.
There’s always that awful, ugly shame. It covers me. Hides me. Cloaks me in a blanket of anguish. And It feels like it’s all mine. Mine to bear. Mine to hold. From the very beginning it feels like it’s been mine. T disagrees. He says none of it belongs to me and that I have nothing to be ashamed of. But I don’t believe him. Not because I think T is a liar, because that isn’t it at all. I do feel like T wholeheartedly believes what he thinks and says. It’s just that I don’t see things the same way that he does. I have nothing to prove otherwise, so I don’t believe him. Does that even make sense?
Things are moving so slowly lately with T that it feels like we’ve barely taken a breath since June. I don’t like it. It’s not like there isn’t anything to talk about. I have loads to say but whenever I get in a room with him nothing comes out. It’s as though I’m waiting for permission to finally just be. I don’t know how to explain how hard it is to just be. When you’ve grown up feeling like you need permission to even breathe, there is a sense of not being able to do anything. I feel like I need to ask and ask and ask some more for T’s permission to even be allowed to exist in the same space as him. I don’t consider us equals and I don’t feel worthy of his time or space. I’m holding back from everything because there is a sense that he is going to stop existing entirely. Everything is just so muddled these days and I’m not entirely sure that we are ever going to get back to where we were before.
When T went away, I went away too. Needing to escape, I traveled far. Far from this time and place and found myself worlds away. I haven’t found my way back. I’m lost. Not fully here. Not yet. Maybe never again. Part of me is somewhere else, still unsure if things are the same. My body moves. Goes where I will it but the clock stopped in a different place and time stood still. I thought that I could turn around and find my way home. But I stumbled in the dark and lost my way. Maybe home will find me. Maybe I can stay and wait it out…just a little while longer.