selfish = happy, selfless = a shell, balance is where it's at

you know, i really needed my own thing.   i didn't really have it.  i pretended i had my own thing, and it was even 100% writing related, in fact, that makes it, writing.  for three and a half years i wrote a daily journal about my oldest son and his recovery from severe brain injury on his caringbridge website.  i loved writing it, still will occasionally, it was my therapy for years.

for three years i couldn't bare to go to sleep without journaling the events that transpired that day for bert.   i had endless fodder for my entries.  i would sit at the computer and immediately start writing and never stop for an hour or more.  i never had to think about a thing.  it all came pouring out of me, never fail.   but it wasn't MY thing.  it was bert's life i was writing about.  i could yuk it up and make people cry or convey any emotion, but it was always about bert, or how i related to bert.   was still yearning for my own thing, and the time to devote to it.

good lord i've been using the word "fodder" incorrectly all these years.  are you kidding me?   it doesn't mean 'topics'?  it doesn't refer to 'things to discuss'?    that's what i thought it meant!  that's how i've been using fodder.   that's how i just used it in the preceding paragraph.    but i just thesaurus.commed fodder and it is food.   even in the Concept Thesaurus i could find nothing that remotely relates to the way i've been using fodder.  no one corrected me, ever.   people!    if i misuse a word, i want to know.  if i have a booger in my nose that you can see, tell me.  spinach in my tooth, point to your tooth over and over again nonchalantly until i get the drift.  tag sticking out, tuck it in.   throw me a bone.

al has his thing.  he loves disc golf.   in the love department, i do come first, but disc golf is a very close second.   any chance he gets when he's not with the kids, and he 'clears the date' with me, he grabs his bag and he's out the door in two seconds.  gladly runs a course if he has less than an hour.  

getting the date cleared on me is annoying.   'so uh, any plans today?'  is al's code for 'will there be a free two hours for me to go play?'  so just say that's what you want to do!  

he's always said to me, i want you to have something you love and are passionate about, like disc golf for me.  and i'd always reply, i like to sit.  sit and write.  sit and research.  sit and read.  be sequestered in my room with my people  magazine, my laptop, my cell phone, and i'm happy.   deluded myself into thinking that caringbridge was my thing.  that facebook was my thing.   but i get it now, that's not a thing.  

and i refuse to have my thing be being a mother or be related solely to my children.   that's also not a thing.    i mother, but i don't define myself by my motherhood.  i don't comply when i see a facebook photo titled "click share if you would do anything for your kids".   parenting is going to be the most challenging thing i'll do in my life, and possibly the most worthwhile, but it's not my passion.   it's not how i want to spend my free time.  it's not a key to helping me feel like a whole, alive person.  being patient and kind when my child is doing everything s/he can to get me to do the opposite is not a freaking passion.  it's a life sentence some days.  i do my best at mothering and i love my kids, but good gravy, i need my thing to take me away from all that.  for a spell.  so i can be patient and kind.

what i want to avoid is to be talking on and on about inconsequential things as if they are important. this is the quintessential sign of not having 'a thing'.   i don't want to have insignificant things be my bread and butter.  case in point:  this week our garbage company switched.  we had waste management and now we have randy's.  there were a few letters explaining the details of the switch over.  there was a drop off of new dumpsters.  pick up of old dumpsters.  weekday of pick up changed.  no biggie right?   sure, i took it all in stride.

but a mom talked to me at length this week about garbage.  how the day change will alter her routine.  the difficulties it will make in her life.  the cost comparisons.  the people that are now picking up the trash.  recycling is now every week.   at least the size of the dumpsters is the same.  on and on and on.  at length.  i'd rather have pulled each of my eyeballs out with pliers one at a time than listen to her prattle.  

and if i could ever end someone's fucking conversation, i would do just that.   but i have some ridiculous gene that doesn't allow me to be mean to someone's face.    it forces me to be engaged and interested constantly and even ask probing questions to further the inane monologue.

excerpt from this riveting conversation:

me:  "ya, i got two notifications."
her: "i only got one letter.  what did your letter say?  what am i missing?!"
me:  "uh, that the pick up day will be on friday now"
her:  "friday!  i'm going to have to .... can i see a copy of your letter ...  how am i ever going to ...  this is a nightmare."
me:  "i could scan to a pdf and email it to you"  KNOCK IT OFF.  JUST TELL HER SHE'S STUPID AND BORING.

 i'm not even able to fashion a disinterested looking face as a veiled attempt to get out of it.   maybe there is a small chance that being direct about my complete lack of enthusiasm for the topic is not going to make someone feel bad, but i doubt it.    it's a curse.    i am getting more abrupt and assertive with age, though, so there is bitchy light at the end of this kindness tunnel.  

this is what i'm talking about.  she needs a thing to occupy her mind so she doesn't focus on garbage.

i'm on my way.  well on my way to finding my thing.   i like where this is headed.  

put the bins out on friday