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| August 2004 |
Like many kids, I felt different and alone growing up. Once in high school, a boy told me he would ask me out but I was too weird. It didn't phase me at the time because I had a boyfriend, but I still remember those words. In college, I found artists and musicians and other outcasts. Okay, maybe I was still weird and different but I was no longer alone. Race ahead twenty years and I am back where I started. It is hard - to impossible - to relate to others. The stay-at-home mom moniker puts me in a category where I am so ill-fitted. I do not clean or cook or organize anywhere near what is required. Just enough to keep us clean, fed while Dad keeps us afloat. I do not shop or go out to lunch as we are flat broke. As if I cared about fashion anymore. I seriously attended the shows and followed fashion avidly. It wasn't just a profession, it was a love. Feels like a movie I watched once. Now my clothing choices revolve around what is clean, has pockets, and enables me to run! What do I say when some new parent complains about sleepless nights? It only lasts until they turn six-and-a half and then it will be sporadic? Or, how one mom friend feels, until you die? How can I muscle up empathy when I hear whines about a little sweetie pooping in the tub? While it is understandably yucky, hey, at least they don't throw it at you! Changing diapers? I'm a pro. Can't understand their cries and it is so frustrating because they can't talk? It is a horrendous situation to be in, especially when your cutie is sick. After 8 years without words, I feel like the baby whisperer. Barring medical diagnosis, I can pretty much tell you what they are trying to say.
I have no interests except making James' life smooth and comfortable yet still stimulating and challenging as possible. No that's a lie, I have interests, there is just no place in my life for them. I guess that is why I am having such trouble relating to others. However mistaken and ridiculous my feelings are, I find their lives somewhat frivolous. I understand depression and getting help muscling through reality, but I am talking about something deeper. I sort of feel like all my issues cannot be voiced or I'll be sent off to the loony farm. Unfortunately, my woes are the reality of dealing with a special needs or chronically ill or aging loved one. It isn't awful. It's just what it is and it doesn't need to be hidden under the rug. Like it is okay to complain about your sleepless nights when you have a newborn but it is not correct when your kid is eight. Somehow you shouldn't mention it because you make others feel bad or because somehow it is really your fault as a bad parent. And I don't want to make people feel bad or uncomfortable, it's just sometimes I feel like my life doesn't exist. Reality is out there somewhere and when, on rare occasion I get out, I can't really mention what goes on back here. And no matter how horrifying it might sound at times, it doesn't suck. I feel so lucky to have James and to spend so much time with him. Believe it or not, I feel bad when I see a kid and a nanny. We are all having fun at the park while you are at work!
