I just took the online "Sleep Profile Quiz" from Ambien CR. I scored a 3 out of 10 which means that, according to them, I don't have a sleeping problem. I guess I need to have had a major life crisis recently and be supplementing my sleep already with melatonin in order to qualify. Just the sheer fact that I can no longer fall asleep or stay asleep, night after night, isn't enough.
It's a vicious cycle. I can't sleep and I lie in bed worrying about work. But when I get to work, I can barely think because I'm working on no sleep. So I can't get enough done. Then I go to bed, even more freaked out than the night before . . .
All of this is turning me into an evil bitch. Last week, as I was driving to work I passed some women in my neighborhood who were out jogging together. I said aloud (in my car, of course), "Fuck you." And then I said it about a hundred times more over the next couple of days. When the street light would turn red right in front of me. When someone would cut me off. Whatever the minor infraction, it didn't matter. I was feeling really let down by the universe. Why do I have to work my ass off for years and years with nothing to show for it? What's the f*ing point? What would happen if I just drove off a cliff today?
"And you may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house. And you may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife."
In the midst of this maniacal behavior, my oldest brother sent me another research study pointing to how liberals are less satisfied than conservatives -- not because of rising inequality (which is often erroneously blamed) -- but rather because they do not see the opportunity at hand as clearly as their happy-go-lucky, conservative friends. I realized that my definition of the "haves vs. have nots" in my community is what's making me miserable specifically in light of my personal lack of upward mobility.
I leave for work before my neighbors and come home later. Yet, my house is in disarray and I have little to no money put aside for my retirement and my kids' education. I am jealous that one good friend's major stress in life involves a new puppy. As much as I know she's really frantic, I think, "How hard can it f*ing be?" and then I feel guilty for minimizing her angst. I am jealous that another friend's husband is uber-successful and whisking her off to London at a moment's notice. As a stay-at-home mom with beautifully manicured fingernails and no time at all to call me and check in to see how I'm doing, my jealously is compounded. Then I think, what kind of so-called friend am I that I cannot be happy for her? The truth is, I am happy for her. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Self-pity is a horrible place to live.
Then I hear about a couple who lost their eight-year-old son in a bicycle accident years ago and I count my blessings. I hear about a woman roughly my age who was born with hydrocephalus, who cannot see, sit up, speak, use her arms/legs, etc. yet has been lovingly taken care of for years to ensure her life is not further compromised. And I know, I know, I know that I have a fabulous life. I don't live in Darfur, I have never been a victim of genocide, I have perfect health (when I'm sleeping well), I have two gorgeous, loving sons. What the f* is wrong with me?
So, instead of praying for greater mobility, a new job, more money, a rich husband (sorry hon) and a cleaning lady, I need to begin praying in earnest for non-attachment. I need to be okay with who I am, right here and right now: a latent Buddhist apparently. Or an expletive-laden Christian. I'm just glad that God provides compassion and forgiveness. If this f* you phase continues much longer, I'm going to need 'em.
3 comments:
I think the "fuck you" phase is normal--at least it is for me, but I'm not sure it's supposed to last as long as mine has. And the worst part is feeling that you're not supposed to be in that space since someone else always has it worse.
These days I have the "fuck my insurance company" bc they would only pay for speech therapy if Charlotte were 80 and had had a stroke, instead of almost 3 with apraxia. But a friend has a 2.5 year old who will need a heart transplant somewhere down the road. Which makes me feel like an ass for cursing the insurance company.
You can spend so much of a life wondering "what would happen if I drove off a cliff" but then, one day, you realize that no one would know where the extra soap and toilet paper were; that only moms really understand that a kiss will make most things better; that, yes, the neighbors house might be bigger but their designer sucks and they will NEVER be able to eat pizza in the living room.
And then you just have to remember that you are human; some days are going to suck. Some people are going to appear to have it better but we never really know what goes on inside them.
I saw a great quote recently; I'll have to paraphrase as I don't remember where it came from:
"I strive for perfection, but come up human every time."
And I have to look at the bright side of apraxia: Charlotte won't be repeating some of the very, very bad words I say in the car.
Ah Mel, you always know what to say.
If only you lived closer -- I would love to have you over for pizza in my living room!
yes, well, you have a real job, so can't you find a reason to come to san francisco? then we can have pizza in MY living room. after I vacuum up the dog hair and shovel aside the toys, of course.
Post a Comment