Stuck In The Mad
There are tons of bigger issues in the world than the silly ones that occupy my mind. But. Since this is my tiny corner on this planet, I'm gonna write about them as the parade floats that they are to me: Big. Mostly innocuous. But hard to ignore.
Y'all. I am stuck in the mad.
I am (most likely) every mother in America. I work hard. It's ignored. I give. They take. The fruits of my labor are soiled by end of day and - like the back of a shampoo bottle, I just need to rinse and repeat. Rinse. And repeat.
Staying home as a Mama is a backbreaking job. It's also a really simple one, and hardly garners the respect that it should. I don't do anything that any one of you couldn't do ... and yet somehow, not a one of you could replace me. This is not unique to my family, this is true for every decent mother, father, or caretaker.
I scrape leaves (carried in on the fur of our dog) out of my baby's throat. I wipe tears off of Navy's face when she's devastated by the turnaround time of her juice requests. I prepare two dinners, knowing good and well that my kiddos won't eat a bite of the very delicious meal my husband has requested. I chase the dog back inside after he catches sight of the silly woodchuck (affectionately named Goldberg) that lives in our backyard. I do math homework with a math hater. I shuttle. I herd. I listen to workplace drama. I smother in love. The laundry is folded. The bellies are full. The house is cleaned, re-cleaned, and re-cleaned. (And somehow never clean.) I am the glue that holds this home together, but very much like glue - nobody really sees me.
It's a strange feeling to know that you're the most important person in the family, and yet - totally overlooked. There are few accolades in this job. Lots of love, for sure. I hear the "Mommmmmmmmmy" cried out in a moment of pain or panic. I know I'm the comfort needed to drift off to sleep. But as the Mom, I feel like I'm taking care of everybody - but nobody is taking care of me.
Truth be told, I have been festering on the resentful, "But what about me?" feeling for quite some time. It's especially apparent if you go back and read through my posts. I work hard for my family - but I don't often feel that they see it - or know how to appreciate it. ("The Moms always get screwed." - a quote from my own mother, that I have seemingly come to live by.)
And so, I get mad. I've been mad. And now, despite trying - I feel stuck in the mad.
I've yelled. I've hollered. I've cried. I've silently stewed. I've even given up from time to time, and been apathetic to my own feelings - pushing them to the back of the line of things to tackle. But I've resigned that I am not allowed to be stuck in mad. I have to crawl out of it.
Self love is not selfish and I believe that. I also know that I have not invested in Taylor, in what feels like years. I have grasped at fleeing bits of my identity, not sure they're mine to keep hold of. I'm not a wacky colored fashionista anymore - I wear solid colored tee shirts, and stretch jeans from Target. I'm not an ice skater anymore - I'm scared that I've forever lost my footing on my once sacred (frozen) ground. I don't go out and socialize like I did - I'm most social with a screen (That's kind of depressing to admit). I don't draw unless it's been requested by somebody. Really, I sometimes wonder - who am I? And what happened to Taylor?
I know the only way out of this mad pit, is to take giant leaps of joy. And I have foolishly been waiting for that to be handed to me. If happiness is something that lives inside of us all then I need to actively reach in, and dig mine out.
So - while I'm still a little stuck in my mad, I'm going to channel my inner Elsa and try to ... "Let it go" ...