SOS - Can I Die Now?

Don't worry, I'm not getting all suicidal on you. This is a Soap Opera Sunday post...

High school was not a real fun time for me. Honestly I have no idea why, but I wasn't popular and I was probably too smart for my own good. I think somewhere along the way I started being less outgoing because it was just less painful that way. (unfortunately, yes, it still seems people act that way)

This story takes place during my sophomore year...

The church I went to was roughly affiliated with a Boys Ranch. A Christian place for boys who had for one reason or another been separated from their families and were supposed to be getting their lives back together. (yeah, one of my best friends is married to one of these guys and we won't even say how crazy I think he is - makes my blood boil thinking about - but that's a story for another day)

These boys all lived in family groups with group parents who rotated out every week. So every week they showed up at the parents' church, which on odd weeks happened to be mine.

This is how I became acquainted with Ryan.

Ryan had a huge crush on me.

Ryan also had no people skills and very little common sense. He would say whatever came to mind with no thought to the consequences. He was a self-proclaimed "Jesus Freak" who went around telling people that he had slept with girls and all sorts of other things that fell under the category of TMI.

Let's just say that every Sunday Ryan was going to be at my church I would try my hardest to wedge myself into a pew with a group of friends so that there was absolutely no room left over... otherwise I'd be sitting by Ryan. This is not to say that sometimes he didn't try to sit by me even when I was already touching thighs with the people on either side of me!

Ryan was also in my sophomore history class. With my track coach as the teacher. Track coaches, I have learned, are sometimes not the greatest teachers. This teacher, on occasion, didn't really want to conduct class. He had a school photo of himself that he had cut out the head and thumb tacked to the end of a pencil. He called it Slappy. He would also sometimes make the filmstrips "jump" or "ride" across the screen for better effects on still pictures. He was that great of a teacher... (he was also proud of the fact that he got his hair cut with a FlowBee!)

But I'm getting off track. (ha, I crack myself up, I'm so witty!)

So one day "everyone" in class decided that they didn't really want to have history class and were going to try to get the teacher off track. He was pretty agreeable to the situation and so we tried to ask him all the random questions about himself we could. But there is a limit to what you will ask and what a teacher will tell you about himself (at least he had limits...)

He said, "Well, I guess we'll just have to go back to history". Everyone protested and someone came up with the 'great idea" of asking one of the students questions about himself.

And who did they pick?

You guessed it.

Ryan.

Ryan gets to sit up in front, on the teacher's stool behind the podium. He is thrilled (almost) beyond words that his fellow classmates want to interview him.

(A little side note here. I believe it's roughly October and by this point in the school year Ryan has asked literally every girl in the school if they will go to Homecoming with him. He doesn't have a date.)

So by this time in history class I am most likely halfway immersed in whatever book I'm reading. (I am a bookworm to end all and routinely read a book a day while in high school - maybe that's why I wasn't so popular?)

However, I instantly snap to attention when someone asks him, "If you could go out with any girl in the school, who would it be?"

I know, before he even opens his mouth, that he is going to say my name. And I wished with all my might that a hole would magically appear under my desk so I could disappear.

Unfortunately that did not happen, he looked right at me with this sappy grin, and said my name.

Cue all heads in the classroom swiveling in my direction and snickers emanating from all the "cool" boys.

I wanted to die!

Shall we say, I didn't live that one down for quite awhile?

For more drama you can go to The Extraordinary Ordinary and read other people's Soap Operas.

Wanting Life

I am miserable. I know it's my own fault, but yet I can't seem to do anything about it.

Sometimes I really don't understand why my husband is still trying, the psychotic bitch that I am. I make his life more miserable than mine.

In the dark and the quiet the only thing that makes me want to stay is knowing that my son would be lost without me. I am his world.

But what will happen when he's not so cute in a few more years and trying my patience. Will I still want to be here for him?

And then I wonder what the fuck I'm thinking, trying to get pregnant again. How will I handle myself with a toddler and an infant when I can hardly keep it together with one?

I know what my problem is. I haven't really wanted anything to do with God since I was in college. Maybe that's too strong. It's just that I haven't felt like I got anything out of the relationship so it's slowly just gone away. Now I know I should read my Bible and I try to pray, but there is absolutely no desire there. I hate how guilty it makes me feel, but I never do anything about it.

And yet whenever anyone asks me how I'm doing I say fine. Not good anymore, just fine, or maybe okay. But no one ever asks again, no really, how are you? They don't really want to know. And I don't trust them enough to tell them what's really going on.

I don't trust anyone. Only the anonymous internets (what is wrong with that picture?). How screwed up is it that I can't even talk to my husband about this, let alone my best friends. I feel guilty that I even feel this way. I have a good life. I stay home and don't really have to worry about anything. Oh, I "worry" about money, but we will never be hungry or without a roof over our heads. The only pal on my horizon is my father with Parkinson's. Just the thought of that makes me cry. But we still have time with him and he loves me/us.

See? I've got it good. So why can't I be "happy"? Not in a perpetually perky way because that is so not me, but at least content with where I am? Why do I feel like a fake and a fraud and that no one knows who I really am? Why can't I trust anyone enough to tell them what's going on inside me? It's like I want to, but my mouth won't open and let me say a word. Somehow I'm afraid of something...

Why doesn't God help me? He certainly knows what I'm thinking. He knows that I want to do the right thing and be in a relationship with him. Because right now "wanting" to do the right thing is about all I've got going. I don't actually want something that I've only occassionally and vaguely felt in the past. Maybe that's the problem. He knows I'm not serious enough. Yet can't he make me serious about it?

Whatever. That's all philosophy and all I know is that I hate my life, I hate myself, and I'm destorying my family in the process.

I don't want my husband's platitudes (or anyone else's) I just want someone to make it all stop. Tell me what I have to do. Listen without trying to fix it or tell me that I'm really a good person and I should quit listening to the mean people around me.

I don't want to take drugs because, I forgot, I tried that once in college and the psychologist or whatever he was treated me like an idiot. I know the problem is between me and God, but I feel powerless to do anything about it on my end and He certainly isn't doing anything on his end.

This is where I'm compelled to write that, hey, I even have a tattoo on my back of a dove that's supposed to represent peace. His peace. And that I have to give up control for me to get it. Got that in Costa Rica when I was freaking out being in a new place and I got "peace" about it. Or maybe I just got used to the new place.

I'm not even in a new place right now. My son is 17 months old for crying out loud. Nothing "new" in my life that hasn't been there for a year and a half already.

But I'm not content. I'm like the total opposite of content. I don't even know what content is.

I don't know what I want either, but whatever it is, it's not what I have now.

The 5th Wheel

It's fair time around here, but I won't be going this year (we're sick). I have always loved going to the county fair. We had a pretty decent one up until a few years ago when people decided to quit entering stuff...

But this story takes place when I was somewhere between 19 and 21. I was single. Two of my good girlfriends from high school were respectively married, and either married or in a serious relationship (which depends on if I was 19 or 21!).

We all decided it would be fun to go to the fair. I was so hyped up about this that I neglected to realize that I would be...

The 5th wheel.

That's right, I didn't think to invite another girlfriend, or even a guy friend (of which I had many, thanks to our imbalanced youth group).

It was all fun and games through the eating and the walking in the animal barns, until we got to the carnival section.

Anyone ever been to the fair/carnival? Those rides are designed for 2.

Guess where that left me?

Alone.

And then it was getting dark (and romantic, in a carnival atmosphere-ish way) and so the two couples were strolling along holding hands while I was left to bring up the rear.

I trailed a few feet behind and made a solemn vow that I would never go to the fair by myself with couples again.

And that I would do my best to never put any of my friends in this position.

Lessons can be learned from painful situations! ;)

This post written for Soap Opera Sunday hosted by The Extraordinary Ordinary.

Elitism

I live in an elitist town.

What does this mean? It means I will never measure up. I will never be good enough to be in the "hip mom" circle.

Most of the time, I'm okay with that. I know I'm educated and my child(ren?) will grow up to hopefully be educated, caring people.

I don't care that I'm not the most fashionable mom at the park. I spend my money on things that bring pleasure to me, like books and photography equipment.

But sometimes, it really hurts.

Like tonight.

I went to an open house for a new toy lending library. I was hoping to get some business exposure (I have a home party business selling toys) since I figured that anyone willing to shell out $100 a year to borrow a few toys would be willing to buy some of these good quality educational toys.

Everyone at the open house was wearing a cute little dress and looked like they had just come from having high tea. I was wearing a decent shirt (no baby snot) and casual pants.

I tried to smile and act like it didn't matter that no one was talking to me.

The "owner" introduced herself and I was able to talk to her for a few minutes about our business possibilities since we had spoken on the phone.

Then one of the "committee" members came up and was introduced. And proceeded to monopolize me right out of the conversation by speaking only to the owner and facing her. Hello, I can read that body language a mile away. It says, "you're not welcome here".

I was so hoping to break into this circle for my business, but I guess I'd have to be "one of them" to do that. And that's not going to happen while I slouch around in my flip-flops, taking pictures of everything and not caring that I have dirt on my butt.

Crying Shame

Today was fine. So why do I feel like crap?

Why are curse words flying out of my mouth left and right? Seriously!

It's the little things that are pissing me off. Although to tell the truth there are some deeper reasons. (Target's return policy anyone?)

My dinner ended up in the trash tonight. I dropped some noodles on the floor and of course right after I picked them up and put them back in my bowl the man had to say, "I wouldn't eat those, you don't know what kind of stuff it's picked up off the floor". Which meant that when I couldn't figure out which noodles it was the whole bowl went in the garbage.

I would have eaten it without even thinking about it if you hadn't said anything. F you. Now I didn't get dinner because this was one of those 2 bowls only meals. You wanted to give me half of yours, but that only made me more stubborn. No dinner for me, but I'm starving and haven't been eating anything nutritious for days (5 cans of Pringles in a week?).

Which of course leads to a bawling fit and you want to fix it. Damn it, somethings you can't fix and I just want to be left alone. Don't act like I'm rejecting you when I just want some space to have it out with myself. When I really want you to comfort me, I'll let you know. But most of the time you don't comfort anyway, you just want to fix it.

Then since there was laundry to be folded I went on a cleaning jag. Boxes to go in storage that have been sitting around for weeks. When I get out to the storage shed I find that his idea of "organizing" means bigger boxes piled on top of littler ones so the whole thing's about to come crashing down on me. Not to mention one box of his stuff is packed to lazily that the lid won't shut yet there's tons of air space inside the box. Could he be any less organized?

And what in the world are we going to do with an entire bag of fertilizer and one of some other powdery substance? We live in the city for crying out loud! Get rid of the science experiments already. You haven't used them in over a year and it's getting powder all over the rest of our stuff.

20 minutes later and I'm done with the shed. There's a ton more space now and our Christmas decorations aren't buried on the bottom. Much easier to get them out now when I don't have to worry about piling boxes on 2 feet of snow come December 1st. If we even do a tree/decorations this year. I'm not sure I'm up for it.

I just want my life to be organized. Is that too much to ask? I used to do okay. Now, not so much since I have myself, him, and the baby to keep together. I get to the end of my days and feel exhausted with nothing to show for it. Blogs are sucking me in, I'm not sleeping well so I have no energy and there are certain things I can only do when the baby's sleeping and certain things I can only do when he's awake. Where does the cycle stop?

Knowing

You say you know who I am. But you don't, really. What you know is the little piece you've taken and interpreted your own way. What you know is your interpretation of who you want me to be. Is it any surprise then that it irritates the heck out of me every time you say you understand?

I say I don't know you or understand you. This annoys you because what you hear is that I don't want to know you, don't want to try to understand you. What I'm really saying is that while I may know a little of you and am trying to understand you, you are much more complex than I feel capable of understanding right now.

Which is worse? Saying you know someone when you don't, or saying you don't know someone when you do? Which gives the case for more frustration? Probably both depending on the person being frustrated, which is exactly where we're at. You want to be known and think I'm not trying, I want to be known and think that you don't care to really know ME.

Why

Why do I dislike my best friends husbands? I have 2 best friends, one from high school and one from college. In my opinion they both married losers. Oh, they're not beat your wife type losers and you probably wouldn't know it just from meeting them. But when I see the lives that my friends have? Wow. One has an invalid for a husband (which isn't entirely his fault granted) that takes that as an excuse to do NOTHING with his life. He is lazy to the extreme and thinks it's okay while my friend works her tail off taking care of both of them. I can't see her ever having a normal family with kids.
The other has 3 kids and her husband is never home. He's "working", but he makes such poor business decisions that they are forever in debt and for awhile he even wanted her to go back to work to help support them. He said she could work nights since child care is so expensive? Hello, that is the most obnoxious thing I've ever heard. He would put her in an early grave since, um, when would she sleep? And it's not like he would ever lift a finger to help around the house.
I know this is a totally un-Christian way to feel, but both of these guys claim to be Christians. I think that's what almost pisses me off the most. And neither of them will take any outside advice. They think their lives are just fine the way they are.
Guess I shouldn't complain so much about my hubby, huh? At least I can stay home without having to worry about working. Yeah, we're on a tight budget, but the ONLY debt we have is student loans. And he does help around the house and he is home and plays with his son. Time for me to start looking on the bright side at my family.