Shouldn’t My Greatest Love Be MYSELF?

     I’ve become jaded recently and it really bothers me. I try to be positive, keep putting one step in front of the other, but sometimes feel these meager efforts are futile. I tried to open myself up to the world in the biggest way that I knew how, and now I keep finding myself wanting to crawl back into my box. It’s taking more effort than I should have to put forth each day just to want to socialize at all. I find I’m very untrusting of people right now. I sit and ponder over all the people that have passed through my life, some that are still here, and realize that other than three of my siblings, one of my children, my best friend I lost and the one I have now, no one else has ever proven themselves to be trustworthy. That’s not to say that the rest of them hurt me, but were rather never close enough to make a dent either way: Family members I don’t see often, people that I just consider acquaintances, or people who are fleeting and of no real importance. 

     I feel really overwhelmed right now, and know that I’m just letting trivial shit get to me. I know that life doesn’t stop because I’m having it rough, and people shouldn’t have to do anything different just to appease me; but dammit it would be nice once in a while. Just once I’d like to hear the words, “What can I do for you to make things easier?”  I know I’m to blame. I’ve always done too much and expected too little in return. Pandora Patty thinks I’m cheating myself and tells me my expectations are set too low. Probably, but there’s less disappointment that way, isn’t there?

     I’m just bellyaching today because I’m frustrated, weary, and angry. I’m tired of my life being dictated by my husband’s decisions, my son’s lack of respect, and others whom I’ve trusted and wronged me. Is it so damn hard to just be a decent and considerate person? Huh?

     I know I started this shit a long time ago and did this to myself. Early on I started making my family’s plates, cutting up their food, and serving them. I picked up the dirty laundry they dropped wherever it was convenient for them; put lids back on things they’d left out, closed drawers and cabinets behind them, etc. I learned to be frugal with the things I bought so that they could have more: Furnished the house with a lot of flea market finds, wore hand-me-downs or clothes from the thrift store, and simply relegated myself to this lifestyle to appease others. Also, I was the go-to person for every problem, the forgiving person who turned the other cheek more than I should, and the one who would rather gnaw off her own arm than ask for a hand-up…God forbid, a hand-out! Yeah, I did this to myself.

     It occurred to me yesterday afternoon as I was picking up my husband’s socks and sweats off the bedroom floor, and my son’s jeans that he just took off and discarded to the back of the loveseat, that these people don’t appreciate what I do for them and completely take me for granted. These thoughts were soon validated when they both came home from school and work, flopped their asses down: My husband on the couch to watch tv, and my son on the loveseat—hands adhered to his cell phone as he frantically texted. Pissed me off royally that they have the nerve to sit there and not bother to throw wood in the fireplace (when I not only clean it out in the morning, bring in the wood to get started, and keep it going all day—because without it’s colder than shit in here!), but also argue over who’s going to let the dogs out (when I also do that all day), and then try and make me feel bad when I want to watch something in the evening on the big screen, because I’m home all day and they’re not. Ya know, cause all I do all day is sit and watch tv, and the cleaning fairy comes in and does all the work for me. Duh!!

     These things aren’t anything new and I probably wouldn’t bat an eye at it, if it weren’t for the fact I started thinking about Spring, doing the math, and realized that April 20, I would be married 29 years had I stayed with my first husband. Not that he is of any consequence, but the realization that I’ve been taking care of people for 29 years now and putting myself and my feelings last really got to me. I sat down and pondered over how much of myself I was willing to continue giving before expecting…no, DEMANDING that some of my life be about me. This coupled with the fact that I’m really raw and emotionally sensitive right now didn’t help. I found myself cussing to the top of my lungs and stomping to my room. This morning doesn’t find my mood improved in the least. Changes have to be made. Big changes!

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