It’s been just over a week since my last post, and many things have changed.
School started. We chose to deal with remote learning and have had to re-organize our lives around three daily meetings and related assignments. I am so glad for only having one kid in school right now (major props to anyone trying to get multiple kids through this at the same time).
I have also deactivated my Facebook account. Its been about a week since I’ve done that, and it feels terrific. Facebook has become such a toxic, vile mess since I opened my account in 2006. I didn’t even realize the weight it had become.
Finally, we are officially getting a dog. We were approved to adopt through Journey Home Animal Rescue. I don’t want to share too much because I don’t want to jinx it, but I assure you there will be pictures as soon as the new dog is in our home.
The hardest thing I am coping with right now is me. My birthday is this month. I will be 33, and I think I am finally having my age crisis. You know the one. Stereotypically, at least according to the movies, women are supposed to do this at 30. I have never really worried about my age. Ever. The only age-change that meant anything was turning 21, and that reasoning is fairly obvious.
Now, 33 is starting to bother me. I talked to my husband about it last night, and I think this feeling comes from the fact I haven’t done anything I set out to do.
Initially, I wanted to be well known. I was a theatre major, and I wanted to act, or at least do tech. Something in that area, but those plans fell through, and its rather too late to pick them up now.
Eventually, I settled for the idea I was never going to be known but would at least like to be good at something. People could think of something, cooking, sewing, crafting, gardening, whatever, and would think of me. “She can do that.” “She is great at that.”
I know it’s silly, and people will want to say “it’s ok,” and “there are so many things you’re good at,” but really, I’m only mediocre at best, in anything they could name.
People don’t think I can do things for them, help them with things, or request something from me. Honestly, there are days I feel lucky people even remember I exist, much less that I’m capable of something other than washing dishes, doing laundry, and being a mom.
People will also say there is nothing wrong with just doing those things. They might even criticize me because I want to be more than being just a mom.
I’m just tired of always seeming to fail, never quite hitting the mark. I’m tired of being an invisible person who only exists to make everyone else’s lives easier.
I know I don’t have a ton of followers, but if you are reading this and want to talk, correspond, or share, leave a comment or let me know. I’m sure what I am feeling is somewhat relatable.
– Just One Mom