An Issue of Gratitude or Perspective

There are so many things I want to write about, but my head is literally spinning and I am holding on by a thread. If you've ever had an experience--like, say, childbirth--where you have to walk yourself through each moment and encourage yourself to keep going, that's what I have been doing on and off for the past 5 months, and most recently for the past three weeks. Imagine being in labor for 6 months straight (and giving birth to a 5-bedroom house--heh, heh). Like holding my breath, or as they say in the south, losing my religion.

And it's not anything anyone else can help me with, really. Well, except for a really expensive therapist or a drug-happy psychiatrist--too bad I won't take drugs, though. I have thought about going on drugs, but I don't think I could be a mother and deal with the side effects. They affect everyone differently; for me, I become a dim-witted zombie. That might work when you're writing ad copy 50 hours a week, but it doesn't make for good parenting (no offense to all the zombie moms out there). Which begs the question, does life on the edge of sanity make for good parenting then? Well, no, but I like to think it's temporary. I like to think that someday soon I will return to normal and get a handle on my responsibilities, the sad thoughts that run through my head, and especially the awful things I say to myself about myself 24/7. So I shouldn't waste the month it takes to get on the drugs, only to need them for a few weeks and then suffer the getting off of the drugs for another three weeks. I fully believe the resources for survival are around me somewhere, I just have to tap into them. Somewhere. Hm.

I know I have to grow up and adjust to the future I have signed up for. That is what I KNOW. But what I feel (and fight) is that I want to be with "My People." People from where it's warm and sunny who are warm and sunny, too. People who GET ME. People who could look in my eyes and know when I am dying inside, and care. People who went to school and/or are doing what they love. People who believe that building relationships and understanding people are the most valuable pursuits in life. People who value life experience and education (not necessarily formal education, but a curiosity and desire to know and learn about the world and things that are different and sometimes hard to understand). It is so hard for me to live in a culture that celebrates ignorance as "the simple life"---I am all for simplicity, but it is NOT synonymous with ignorance. It's hard to live in a place where people are so bored and or dissatisfied with their lives that they literally drink (or drug) them away. The poor kids here--many of them don't finish school and don't ever plan on college. They just take lame jobs and stay here and the "brain drain" just keeps happening because the culture and the economy have nothing to offer a "brain." I have to strain to keep myself from saying to my Young Women (the class I teach at church), "RUN, GIRLS--RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

And it's so weird because this is such a beautiful and inspiring place to live. I have the most wonderful husband ever. And my girls--oh, my girls! Aside from the attitude problems they've had lately due to having a crazy mother and an absent father, they are awesome--gorgeous and healthy and strong-willed and smart. I have everything to be grateful for. But perhaps it's not an issue of gratitude or perspective. Maybe it's chemical or maybe all the junk in all my life that I have "risen above" has finally caught up to me and in what should be a joyful time in my life, I am mourning all that I lost in my early life and all the things that I will never be because of all the scar tissue. One thing that I grieve daily is that motherhood just isn't natural for me, and that is partly because I am practically paralyzed by the fear that I will hurt these girls the way I was hurt and I will not be able to live with that. I can deal with almost any mistake, but not that. And so I am afraid for them to even love me because what if I let them down? It's nuts. And when all is said and done, it is they who have paid the highest price for this house we are building.

I know--it doesn't make any sense. Can you see why my head is spinning? It's not just the oven cleaner I used tonight, it's really spinning. Maybe I will feel better when Heidi is not teething and I am not PMS-ing (I'm not, by the way, at least not this week) and we are finally free from the crushing burden and agonizing experience that is mutual self help housing. If not, you can send that paddy wagon to take me to the funny farm.