The problem with being me is that I’m such a monumental fuck up. Yeah yeah yeah, this isn’t a sympathy drive…
I’ve had one of those weekends where I’m happily skipping along and then ‘boom!’ – plank in the face. I am feeling sorry for myself, I know that things can always be worse and there are people out there having a far worse time than me. I know all these things.
The realisation that all the energy and emotion you put into something was probably down to labouring under a misapprehension is an unpleasant feeling. A feeling I should be so terribly used to by now. I am being deliberately vague here btw. This plank in the face (not a literal one) has made me sit down and look at where my life is and probably twist the knife in my metaphorical wound a bit more –
Or should that be; pick up the plank and beat myself up with it?!
So …… I don’t like my life. I don’t like where I am in life. I don’t like looking to the future because it looks pretty bleak. I was happy this morning as I sat outside in the sun and felt the breeze across my face. I sat there and closed my eyes and all seemed well with my world. I’m so sick of that feeling being taken from me.
I had dreams when I was younger. I had dreams of how my life would be and would while away the hours thinking about how great it would be. It hasn’t worked out like that at all and so I have to battle again against the desire to end it all. I’m so tired,
I’m so tired of struggling. I don’t have the energy to be strong anymore, to put on a brave face, to keep reinventing myself.
I want to be more than ‘just a mum’. When they’ve all grown up and flown the nest, I want to be sure that I still know who I am. There are two impossible dreams that I have:
1. To be an amazing rock climber. My CFS has dealt a bit of a blow to they dream. Plus, I no longer have a climbing buddy and I was never very good (6B+ if I totally destroyed myself). Anyway, the limited climbs I have done outside have made my life worth living. To be up there, to be looking out across the sea or the countryside. Don’t get me wrong, it terrifies me, but it’s so worth it. It’s worth the cut fingers and the bruised knees because when I climb I can only think of that. It’s like a form of mindfulness. Just me and the rock – or even the indoor wall (because almost falling off an overhang on an indoor wall before the first clip but carrying on and finishing the climb is a good way to focus the mind and clear it of all the crap! – and actually it was my one triumph when the two guys I was climbing with couldn’t do it – and they’re much better climbers than I am!). So yes, I feel my life is worse off without climbing.
2. I wanted to be a volcanologist. No really, I did and still do but I have to accept that I am not intelligent enough. It took me 7 long years to get my BSc in geosciences – I got a 2:2 and was told I may as well not have bothered. These days it has to be a 1st or 2:1. Seven years of stress and study and sleepless nights whilst I fretted over an assignment or exam…..for what? For men (as it has all been men) to tell me they succeeded in life without a degree and am earning more money than most people. For the the Job-centre to say I’m overqualified for most jobs out there. To not be able to realise my dream as my result was not good enough…and I couldn’t afford to do a MSc even with decent grades.
They don’t care that I was a single parent for most of that time, that I had to keep studying through two pregnancies, a near death experience, post natal depression, breast feeding, an abusive marriage, a house move …… Nope, no one gives a shit and on that happy note I’ll end this post there.
Love, tea and hugs