This mire which is my so-called life has become murkier and deeper as of late. It feels as mucky as the early spring mud which sucked my boots right off my feet when I’d head out to the barn to feed the horses. (Not much is grosser than stepping ankle deep into slimy mud clad only in stockinged feet…) I feel trapped with no obvious way out. Don’t know which direction to head. How to even start.
Maybe some of this has to do with the fact that we have now been living with my parents for over a year and a half. It was supposed to be for about 6 months, maybe less. Worse, I see no immediate end to the situation. No way out. I need a full-time job, and how do you do that and homeschool your kid? Also, how do you get a decent full-time job when you haven’t really worked since your child was born, almost 15 years ago? Not to mention all the taxi-service I do for her…
Then there is my weight. Other than feeling bad about it, I am doing nothing at all. It is my addiction, to dull the pain. It hurts in the long run, but don’t all addictions work that way?
Then there is my child’s education. This past year at our co-op has worn me out. I don’t want to do it any longer. I don’t feel qualified to homeschool her completely on my own (we all know how that went over in Virginia) and I want her to at least somewhat enjoy her high school years, unlike me.
Oh, and my sister. Ugh with the vegan-ism and the adorable outfits and the “ooh guess what we are getting a trip to Cancun this year” and oh-dear-lord what I wouldn’t give to have my little sister back so we could gripe about it together! No one else truly understands how much I can love my older sister yet hate her at that same time.
My husband is no help at all. He’s not doing anything bad, just so wrapped up in his own issues that I can’t get him to spend a moment at least trying to give me some help on mine.
I finally get why moms run away from home. Honestly, it’s all I can do some days not to just toss some stuff in a bag, hop in my car, and start driving. To – anywhere. If I had more than two nickels to rub together I’d probably go. Chances are pretty good that I’d eventually return… but maybe with my head on a little bit straighter.