:*(
To my friends...
Thanks for sticking by me during this difficult time in my life. I understand that I probably bring a negative feeling to our conversations when I talk about my current situation. I'll try harder not to. I don't want to be negative.
The truth is, my situation right now is negative. I do not like living with my parents. Can you imagine what it's like to spend 12 hours a day sitting in the same room as your mom? While she asks you tons of inane questions she could easily answer herself (Where's the dog? Where's your dad? What time is it? Where's Alana? What's that noise? Did you turn the heat up? Who is calling on the phone? Did your phone just ring?) and gives you unsolicited parenting advice? And she's super passive-aggressive with me. Today she was mad about something and as we were going out for lunch she asked my dad to drop her off somewhere else while my dad and I ate. She swore it was because she "didn't want a bagel" but I don't believe her.
And then at night, when you go to your room, there are clothes, toys, books, you name it... everywhere because you don't have a closet to put your stuff in. It's not relaxing. Your bed is mattresses on the floor. It's freezing at night.
All of my clothes are in storage. I have three tank tops I rotate through. There's no real purpose in getting more clothes out (and, well, the storage unit is packed and there's no WAY you could find my clothes in there) and I'd have nowhere to put them. And I don't have the money to spend on new clothes (where would I put those? I mean, in which pile?) and I feel dumpy and unpretty all the time. It's embarrassing to be wearing the same pair of khakis, the same tank top, the same sweater and the same shoes everytime you see someone. Halloween party- khakis, black tank top, brown sweater. Baby shower- khakis, blue tank top, brown sweater. Birthday party- khakis, blue tank top, brown sweater. Coffee date- khakis... you get the point. And shit, it's getting COLD out and this damn sweater just isn't cutting it anymore. Besides the fact that you're not supposed to wear black, brown and navy blue together and I wear at least brown and navy blue every day.
Allen works two jobs and seven days a week. He works six eight-hour days and one four-hour day. When he's home, he sleeps. Duh- he's tired. He always fucking works- HE'S TIRED. He fell asleep tonight about an hour after he got off work and is still snoozing. Poor guy. So Alana and I never see him. And he never sees us. And it bothers ALL OF US but we can't talk about it because it makes it worse. We had a talk about a week ago- we can talk about it, but rarely. Because Allen is doing the right thing for his family and he knows I miss him, and I know he misses me. And talking about it only makes him feel worse, and it only makes ME feel worse.
We don't get any alone time. Somehow, my mom goes to bed at 11:00-11:30 and wakes up at 7:00. Alana goes down at 10:00 or 10:30 so our alone time is between the hours of 11:00 and however long we stay up and fuck up our sleeping patterns. Our "alone" time is spent taking turns applying for jobs.
And do you KNOW what it's like to be 26, married, with a college degree, and have someone telling you what to do?? Clean the bathroom. Pick up your stuff. OMFG, is there an insubordination for a mother-daughter relationship?
This, too, shall pass.
I mean, right? It's going to pass?
Because despite all of these hours he's working, we don't have much extra money. We have student loans. OH STUDENT LOANS! Fuck you! DIAF! Credit cards. Cell phone. Food. Entertainm...no, nevermind, we don't have that expense, because we rarely go out. We just can't justify it right now.
I spend so many hours a day being a mommy, being a daughter, being a friend, being a wife, being a maid, and then when it's night time, I realize I didn't spend any time being CATHERINE! I know that that's a problem so many moms go through, but my situation is extreme.
I love being a stay at home mom, I really truly do. I love Alana. I love watching her grow. But my mom drives me nuts! I love her, a lot, but OMG, I want a job to get away! I could totally be a stay at home mom if we had our own place. If I got to parent my own child. If I could baby-proof all the things that need to be baby-proofed instead of having someone tell me they don't want to mess it up, or whatever. After thirty long minutes last Sunday, I found Alana's shoes in the bottom of the recycling bin because the rest of the house refuses to push a chair against it (because it "looks sloppy") or push it under the table (because it's "hard to get at" well NO SHIT, that's the idea). I spend time every day washing out tupperware containers because that's the one cabinet that is not baby-proofed and my mom doesn't want a chair pushed against it because it "looks bad." Because, you know, if the house police or Good Housekeeping Magazine were to randomly stop by, they'd be absolutely appalled.
Sometimes I wish I could spend a good amount of time at night crying about this so I could get it out but I'm so past crying. I don't even really have it in me. I'm exhausted with this situation to the point where I can't even cry about it. I'm numb, I'm a zombie, I just live every day trying not to think about what we *could* have. And for the most part, I do a good job in my head. I am thankful for the things we have. I took a week away from praying and only praised God for the blessing we have. I try to make my praises outnumber my prayers. It could be worse. I won't say how, because I don't want that to happen, but I know, it could be worse.
I always hated when people told me how much worse it could be because it never ever helped. I know it could be worse. It could always be worse. But how is "it could be worse" supposed to pay my bills? To give me time alone with my husband? To give me my emotions back? Okay, now I'm crying- I guess they're back. How is knowing that it could be worse going to enhance my time with my daughter? Pay for my fucking health insurance? While my friends are house-hunting, I'm folding my one pair of pants and placing it neatly in an empty Pampers box (my dresser, I guess).
And I also hate when people tell me how lucky I am to have Alana. Bear with me now. Here it comes... I KNOW. I am lucky. I AM SO LUCKY time a thousand million trillion etc. to have Alana. But when I hear that little nugget of wisdom, it makes me think that the universe wants me to believe you can't have financial happiness and fertility happiness. Fuck that, yes you can. You can have both, so when you tell me to be thankful for her, I already am, and I get it. I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world but who says I'd have to trade her to begin with? It's like people think by complaining about my situation I'm asking a magic genie to come and have me trade places with a rich couple that spends tons of quality time together by has fertility issues. That's not it at all. I just want to reap SOME of the rewards from my $30,000 degree that I earned while working full-time and/or pregnant/ a mom.
I try and focus on the positives, to be thankful for what I do have, but when I have to go to the reduced rate clinic and get treated like SHIT for $311/month, don't even have my medical woes taken care of AND receive an additional bill, it's kinda hard to be positive. It's kinda hard to be positive when you miss your husband all the time. Or when you're embarrassed to visit your husband/friends at work (okay so the husband part is partially true, thankfully I can visit him in my gym clothes, but sometimes I want to visit him for other reasons) because you think you look dumpy in that same pair of khakis you've been wearing every fucking day for the last four months. Or when your purse is embarrassingly old and full of holes because you can't justify spending money on a new purse. Or when it takes you 30 minutes to pick through your piles of clothes so you can find underwear to wear.
I guess...I guess I'm just at the end of my rope. I've been numb for months, and I don't really know where to go from here.
So, to my friends, thanks for putting up with me. I appreciate it. I love and appreciate you guys a lot.
Thanks for sticking by me during this difficult time in my life. I understand that I probably bring a negative feeling to our conversations when I talk about my current situation. I'll try harder not to. I don't want to be negative.
The truth is, my situation right now is negative. I do not like living with my parents. Can you imagine what it's like to spend 12 hours a day sitting in the same room as your mom? While she asks you tons of inane questions she could easily answer herself (Where's the dog? Where's your dad? What time is it? Where's Alana? What's that noise? Did you turn the heat up? Who is calling on the phone? Did your phone just ring?) and gives you unsolicited parenting advice? And she's super passive-aggressive with me. Today she was mad about something and as we were going out for lunch she asked my dad to drop her off somewhere else while my dad and I ate. She swore it was because she "didn't want a bagel" but I don't believe her.
And then at night, when you go to your room, there are clothes, toys, books, you name it... everywhere because you don't have a closet to put your stuff in. It's not relaxing. Your bed is mattresses on the floor. It's freezing at night.
All of my clothes are in storage. I have three tank tops I rotate through. There's no real purpose in getting more clothes out (and, well, the storage unit is packed and there's no WAY you could find my clothes in there) and I'd have nowhere to put them. And I don't have the money to spend on new clothes (where would I put those? I mean, in which pile?) and I feel dumpy and unpretty all the time. It's embarrassing to be wearing the same pair of khakis, the same tank top, the same sweater and the same shoes everytime you see someone. Halloween party- khakis, black tank top, brown sweater. Baby shower- khakis, blue tank top, brown sweater. Birthday party- khakis, blue tank top, brown sweater. Coffee date- khakis... you get the point. And shit, it's getting COLD out and this damn sweater just isn't cutting it anymore. Besides the fact that you're not supposed to wear black, brown and navy blue together and I wear at least brown and navy blue every day.
Allen works two jobs and seven days a week. He works six eight-hour days and one four-hour day. When he's home, he sleeps. Duh- he's tired. He always fucking works- HE'S TIRED. He fell asleep tonight about an hour after he got off work and is still snoozing. Poor guy. So Alana and I never see him. And he never sees us. And it bothers ALL OF US but we can't talk about it because it makes it worse. We had a talk about a week ago- we can talk about it, but rarely. Because Allen is doing the right thing for his family and he knows I miss him, and I know he misses me. And talking about it only makes him feel worse, and it only makes ME feel worse.
We don't get any alone time. Somehow, my mom goes to bed at 11:00-11:30 and wakes up at 7:00. Alana goes down at 10:00 or 10:30 so our alone time is between the hours of 11:00 and however long we stay up and fuck up our sleeping patterns. Our "alone" time is spent taking turns applying for jobs.
And do you KNOW what it's like to be 26, married, with a college degree, and have someone telling you what to do?? Clean the bathroom. Pick up your stuff. OMFG, is there an insubordination for a mother-daughter relationship?
This, too, shall pass.
I mean, right? It's going to pass?
Because despite all of these hours he's working, we don't have much extra money. We have student loans. OH STUDENT LOANS! Fuck you! DIAF! Credit cards. Cell phone. Food. Entertainm...no, nevermind, we don't have that expense, because we rarely go out. We just can't justify it right now.
I spend so many hours a day being a mommy, being a daughter, being a friend, being a wife, being a maid, and then when it's night time, I realize I didn't spend any time being CATHERINE! I know that that's a problem so many moms go through, but my situation is extreme.
I love being a stay at home mom, I really truly do. I love Alana. I love watching her grow. But my mom drives me nuts! I love her, a lot, but OMG, I want a job to get away! I could totally be a stay at home mom if we had our own place. If I got to parent my own child. If I could baby-proof all the things that need to be baby-proofed instead of having someone tell me they don't want to mess it up, or whatever. After thirty long minutes last Sunday, I found Alana's shoes in the bottom of the recycling bin because the rest of the house refuses to push a chair against it (because it "looks sloppy") or push it under the table (because it's "hard to get at" well NO SHIT, that's the idea). I spend time every day washing out tupperware containers because that's the one cabinet that is not baby-proofed and my mom doesn't want a chair pushed against it because it "looks bad." Because, you know, if the house police or Good Housekeeping Magazine were to randomly stop by, they'd be absolutely appalled.
Sometimes I wish I could spend a good amount of time at night crying about this so I could get it out but I'm so past crying. I don't even really have it in me. I'm exhausted with this situation to the point where I can't even cry about it. I'm numb, I'm a zombie, I just live every day trying not to think about what we *could* have. And for the most part, I do a good job in my head. I am thankful for the things we have. I took a week away from praying and only praised God for the blessing we have. I try to make my praises outnumber my prayers. It could be worse. I won't say how, because I don't want that to happen, but I know, it could be worse.
I always hated when people told me how much worse it could be because it never ever helped. I know it could be worse. It could always be worse. But how is "it could be worse" supposed to pay my bills? To give me time alone with my husband? To give me my emotions back? Okay, now I'm crying- I guess they're back. How is knowing that it could be worse going to enhance my time with my daughter? Pay for my fucking health insurance? While my friends are house-hunting, I'm folding my one pair of pants and placing it neatly in an empty Pampers box (my dresser, I guess).
And I also hate when people tell me how lucky I am to have Alana. Bear with me now. Here it comes... I KNOW. I am lucky. I AM SO LUCKY time a thousand million trillion etc. to have Alana. But when I hear that little nugget of wisdom, it makes me think that the universe wants me to believe you can't have financial happiness and fertility happiness. Fuck that, yes you can. You can have both, so when you tell me to be thankful for her, I already am, and I get it. I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world but who says I'd have to trade her to begin with? It's like people think by complaining about my situation I'm asking a magic genie to come and have me trade places with a rich couple that spends tons of quality time together by has fertility issues. That's not it at all. I just want to reap SOME of the rewards from my $30,000 degree that I earned while working full-time and/or pregnant/ a mom.
I try and focus on the positives, to be thankful for what I do have, but when I have to go to the reduced rate clinic and get treated like SHIT for $311/month, don't even have my medical woes taken care of AND receive an additional bill, it's kinda hard to be positive. It's kinda hard to be positive when you miss your husband all the time. Or when you're embarrassed to visit your husband/friends at work (okay so the husband part is partially true, thankfully I can visit him in my gym clothes, but sometimes I want to visit him for other reasons) because you think you look dumpy in that same pair of khakis you've been wearing every fucking day for the last four months. Or when your purse is embarrassingly old and full of holes because you can't justify spending money on a new purse. Or when it takes you 30 minutes to pick through your piles of clothes so you can find underwear to wear.
I guess...I guess I'm just at the end of my rope. I've been numb for months, and I don't really know where to go from here.
So, to my friends, thanks for putting up with me. I appreciate it. I love and appreciate you guys a lot.