I have yet to interview with and/or work for someone who hasn't stopped me in my high-energy, usually hyper tracks to say "how DO you do it all?" to which I shrug my shoulders and smile.
Truth be told, I don't. I miss basketball games. I miss theater performances. We miss many auditions. I can only be one place at once. I have learned to cope with that but try very hard to make sure my kids don't miss a thing.
My personality is strong, this I'm very aware of and I am certain I offend many, soothe some, but my intensity level for life, knowledge and my beliefs will never be called "simple" or "weak." I'm not sure whether I've chosen (by my choices in male partners) to wear the pants on purpose, or whether I've simply been forced to play that role. What I do know is that I've never been able to completely rely on a man. I do recognize that both of my husbands were the nurturing, coddling types; emotive, loving, oozing with care. Husband one provided financially but was absentee during many struggles, "you're working late again?" as he drops food on the counter and kisses each kid on the forehead during the fifteen minutes he's had time to see us that day. Husband two was very present but did not provide at all, (insert sarcasm) "no honey, you go ahead and quit your job, sit around, ride bikes, play ball and I'll cook, clean AND work to pay all of our bills." So I have had to play the role of disciplinarian, advocate and tough-love dispenser... along with driver, accountant, planner, nurse, psychologist, assistant teacher, housekeeper and cook.
Although I'd like to blame it on marrying two effeminate men, I can't discount that prior to kids and prior to husbands I have been told that I am intimidating but approachable; seems like a contradiction to me, but I think I get it. I'm strong (at least that's what I've put out there.) I think it's possible that people are drawn in by my blunt honesty. My "I don't really give a shit what anyone thinks" attitude - although I do care immensely. I didn't learn all I know and come to believe what I have in isolation. I have learned through others, I have been taught, I have been guided and enlightened. If there's something I have passion for, I seek to share it and do the same but I've never kept count if people listen to me, care about what I say or not.
I have gained very tough skin through the years. I do what has to get done in each moment. I loathe making plans for too many a time they are altered by circumstances beyond my control. So why set oneself up for the possibility of disappointment? Many days I don't get the things that I need to do done; laundry, cleaning, long-overdue, lingering appointments (getting car smogged, car re-registered, my divorce finalized... the list is much longer.)
The point of reference for prioritizing tasks is my kids. What I do on a daily basis is for my kids, yet with three of them I'm torn often and feel like it's a constant battle, times three, of just letting them down. There's never enough time, enough money or enough me to go around.
Bills must get paid, so I work.
Kids must eat, so I shop.
Grades must be kept up, so I help with homework.
Psyches must be healthy, so I take the time out to listen and offer advice if need be.
PTA dues, volunteer at this function, raise funds for this program, cookie cake to be bought, white elephant gift for this party, Secret Pal for that, team pictures, pick up, drop off. Rinse, repeat. I can't earn money as fast as it's spent, if it's not already assigned to some looming debt before it arrives; in this month's instance, rent.
I walked in last night from a five hour round trip car ride in pursuit of my youngest son's dreams; emotionally drained, physically exhausted, having had only three hours sleep the night prior yet facing hours of work on a project to be completed and an overdue conversation that needed to take place. I powered through the drive, looking forward to sitting down and writing... but alas, I arrived home after 9pm to two very happy, settled, fast-food fed and animated teenagers. Each feeling very chatty. Each anxious to pour their days, news and excitement into my ears. All I wanted to do was collapse from exhaustion. Lie down for ten minutes to recharge. But I faked a smile, and sat and listened and listened some more. Their happiness and the recognition of the fact that I have two teenagers who still look forward to seeing ME and sharing with ME. It sunk in. I'm doing it all right.
The twins came to me last night and told me about gifts we need to gather for a family which their school is collecting, because they have nothing for Christmas. I looked at them both, astonished, and quietly said "we're poor guys. I can't help." I guess I was astonished because despite our struggles, they genuinely have no idea.
As I write right now, I think of how hard it is. How hard I work yet barely make ends meet only to find out there are more, increased expenses. I want to just collapse by feeling overwhelmed. I cry but hide my tears with hugs when they walk in the room. How much pain they'll never see from the want of providing more for them. There are many angels in my life that help me get on my way. I'm not sure I wouldn't have checked myself in somewhere without them.
I am abrasive. I am impatient. I am rough. I am poor and I am weak. I give the things I do all I've got and am well aware that it's never enough.
What my kids don't know is that I send them to their (Jew-ish) dad's on Christmas day for the simple fact that I cannot afford gifts. What my kids don't know is that I closed a (successful) business to take the time necessary to fight to keep them in my care in court. What my kids don't know is that their father took me for thousands upon thousands of dollars before he walked out on us. There are things they'll never know.
I cope with my annual holiday depression by focusing on the fact that I get the memories; the buying of the Charlie Brown tree, the hanging of the lights, the decorating, the caroling. The theatrical performances. The driving around in circles to see the neighbors' lights. The replaying of our favorite Christmas movies.
So who wears the pants around here? I do. There's never been any other choice.
“To be happy with a man you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.”~Helen Rowland
No comments:
Post a Comment