It's About Me

I knew this day was coming and I’ve been resisting it for as long as I could. I’m not a quitter and I hate giving up on the dreams and hope I’ve started to make for myself. For so many years I’ve worked  to fulfill the needs and wants of others. It’s what women do. It’s really what southern women do. But at some point I got mad and decided to do what was good for me. I started to pursue the dreams I had. I began to work towards the goals I had set for myself but had put aside. My world was looking brighter — out there.

My dad lost his job when I was 14. I’ve spent every day of my life since, working. When I turned 16, I changed jobs and started working 40 hours a week while going to high school. Working too much is something I’ve always done. I don’t mind working. I’m good at it.

But when did working become my sole responsibility? Why am I the only one? When did it become my responsibility to take care of and have so many people depending on me? This company Maverick wasn’t my dream. It’s not my field. It’s not what I know. But yet, I’m wrapped up and bound in its gnarling fingers so tight that I’m suffocating. My husband, my father, the guys are all so intertwined in my day that every thing I do is based on how I’m going to support the company, make sure Dad isn’t affected, BJ doesn’t have to work, Joe’s taken care of, and Vince and his wife still have lights and gas and food.

I take on more business, jobs, and other work without thought, hoping to build something, anything to breathe life into ALL our lives again. I take on new adventures with people but end up feeling like I just took on another responsibility instead of gaining help.

I have no one to talk to, no one I can depend on, no one that will be there and do the work WITH me. They want me to do the work FOR them, and I am and it’s killing me. And no one, NO ONE, looks at me and says stop. Or can I help. Or I’ll do it.

I’m here to please and make them happy and comfortable. I’m here to boost their egos and fulfill their needs and if I don’t then I’m the cause of their troubles, their heartache, or their lack of success.

I’m going to have to let go of my dreams and ideas and hopes because I have too many people that need me to do their work for them. I have a business that keeps me tied to this computer, and this house, and these people who suck the life out of me. I can’t leave, I can’t run away, I can’t breathe because who would take care of them all?

I raise another person’s child. I have animals that must be cared for. I have a husband who needs my loyalty. I have 5 businesses that don’t get enough of my time because I’m spread too thin with little help and no one else to do the work.

I give it up today. Whatever dreams I had are gone. That glimmer of hope I held in my fist is too big of a burden to carry. I should have never started wanting my own piece of this life. The moment I started thinking about myself and the goals I wanted to accomplish, the more dissatisfied I became with the life I have. I’m feeling pretty chock full of sorry for myself right now, but I know I can force myself to move back, find the resolve to give up such selfish thoughts and go back to building up and supporting others freely without my own whims involved. Luckily BJ is gone so I can cry for myself a bit before I regroup and start over. To mourn dreams lost and realize that, indeed, this life isn’t about me.

My mom always said when she got pregnant with me she should have had an abortion, and right about now…I wish she had. I’m tired. And I’m tired of fighting each day for nothing gained.

Boy I sure sound like a pitiful drama queen. But I’m sad. I’ll get over it. But right now, I’m just going to cry for awhile. I’m going to give myself that. And then, I’ll work. Because it’s what I do. But it won’t be for me anymore. It’ll be for a living. And while the jobs will stay the same, the feeling won’t. The idea won’t. The future won’t. It’s not for me, it’s for them and remembering that will keep me grounded in reality and focused on what should be done and what I need to do.

I’d like to think it’s the fighter in me that wins here. But it’s not. The fighter lost a battle. And it was a direct hit.

Sometimes I hurt. And I hate being weak. It’s more fun to be strong and in control. So I breathe in the strength of my ancestors and toss aside the rest. Carpe the damn diem.

The funny thing about social networking is that if you are a frequent poster about your day and it’s happenings people get a good overall sense of your personality and routine and this gives an illusion of knowing the real you. I had a real friend today comment that it never occurred to them to ask me about my day. They’ve read it.

But as much as I do post I am a pretty private person. You know what I want you to know. You see what I want you to see. And while you may have heard my jokes, my banter with friends, a political comment, and know every place I’ve been AND that I’ve got chiggers all over my legs, you don’t know my ‘real’ day, and you don’t really know me.

I guess I expect y’all to know that and that’s why we’re blog and facebook friends. It’s social networking. Surface. Friendly.

A real friend should know better. Right? That the sigh is a sad one, or the edge on a biting remark is a sign of more than irritation.

I’m just as guilty. I hear and see and talk to my friends and family all day. And not once do I dig deeper. Partly because it’s public and partly because I’m busy. But guilty just the same.

Take some time today to see your friends, to listen. And be there when they need you. It may just be the most important thing you do that day.

Live. Love. Laugh. There’s a new day to seize.