Thursday, March 28, 2013
When I had my son I had fully intended to be a stay-at-home mom.
How, exactly, I planned to do that while my boyfriend made barely over minimum wage and I was unemployed I'm not so sure. But I do know that things have not turned out the way I wanted them too.
My unhappiness stems from this.
Sure I'm clean and sober. Woo hoo.
But I am fairly positive I was happier when I was drunk at 8 am than when I'm asking the 24th person in a row, "Did you find everything OK?" And then forcing a chuckle when they say, "Too much!" like I've never heard that before or actually care what they had trouble finding since it's not like I can leave the register to go help them find it with a line backed up to Home Accents.
So I have work today at 1, that means I close. Getting out at 9pm isn't bad for working retail, and I like closing shifts better because for the last hour we all act a little silly while we put away to go-backs and they changed my schedule so I always work with Randy who is kind of the closest thing to a friend I have which is perhaps odd because he's a 37 year old man with 2 kids? But he's very merry and you can't help but like him. Sometimes I wonder how exactly he acts so chipper all the time. Like, is he seriously like that? Because I act chipper at work too (not as chipper as him, I'll admit) and then maintain my own personal hell inside my head.
OH MY GOD
Yesterday I got off the register and I was happy, I guess, that I got to go back to my department and work on my relay- most likely it was some other reason but I don't know they don't pay me to keep track of my emotions. So anyways I was grinning. This big, fat, seriously stupidly huge grin. And as I passed customers I realized that it was probably awkward to look at but I couldn't help this crazy happy feeling I had. And then I walked over to the kites, because I had a kite string in my hand someone had brought to the register then changed their mind on. And I bent down to put it back, catching glimpse of an unhappy mother with a small child weighing her down, and I hit my freaking head on the shelf which then became completely disengaged and fell on top of me. I was still smiling.
And I actually laughed out loud, and I took a quick look over at the mother to see if she'd seen that and she had. And she had this like deadpan expression and didn't ask if I was ok or make any comment whatsoever so I started feeling a little foolish and I shoved the shelf back in place and asked if she needed any help finding anything and she murmured no and shuffled off.
I don't know why I shared that story. it has nothing to do with anything. Except perhaps that afterwards I realized that that incident was the only time I was happy all day from when I got to work to when I came back home and picked up my son.
When a freaking shelf dropped on my head I was happier than when I was chatting with that nice customer with the reusable target bag.
And then this morning I woke up to my mom like hammering or something.
But it turned out she was looking for Vyvyan's shoes. And I was asleep/awake so I was like, "Why shoes?" But what I meant was, "You do know I'm closing tonight and not opening so you don't have to wake Vyvyan up at all and maybe I can actually spend some time with him for once this morning?" She didn't understand what I meant at all, for some reason, and continued looking for shoes so I hauled myself out of bed and went in the living room and there he was on the couch all dressed up in his jacket waiting to go to daycare. I was like, "You do know I'm closing tonight."
Perhaps I should clarify that my mom helps out at my sister's daycare. my mom watches him, usually, but on the days that she works she takes him over there to visit and helps my sister make meals or runs games or whatever and Vyvyan LOVES IT. He gets to play in the sandbox, and he gets to interact with other kids his age and he always comes back with stories and smiles.
BUT I was disappointed because, um, I wanted to actually spend time with my son this morning. You know? Because that's really all I care about in this world? And so I asked him, "Don't you want to stay home with mama?" "Nope." And he runs towards grandma who then says, "Yeah, stay home with mom." And he starts screaming bloody murder and crying and she's in a hurry so she just left. Me in my pajamas, and him happy as a clam.
Then I went to brush my teeth and saw that his hadn't even been used. And it's like. Dude. I want to take care of my own son: Why was this incident out of my control?
Honestly I'm so bitter that my boyfriend never found a better job. All of my friends (by that I mean facebook friends but even Randy's wife doesn't work) are stay at home moms and I'm just like, I have no place in their conversations. I don't even know what Vyvyan likes to eat anymore, really.
I'm going to work this out to make it positive. I'm going to use the morning to do a workout, and then I'm going to work on an Easter lamb I'm knitting, and then I'm going to go to my sisters house and play with that little turd anyways. He seriously just walked away without a second glance. It's like I'm completely meaningless to him. "Mom? You mean that thing that goes to work and then comes back home and sits down and can't move from that spot?"
Seriously. The reason I haven't been working out is not lack of motivation it's that my legs hurt. I worry that if I work out I will break. I am standing for an average of 7 hours every day. I stand for 4 hours, take a 45 minute lunch and then stand for another 4 hours. If I'm lucky I get a 15 minute break thrown in, but the gist of it is my freaking legs hurt. My knees hurt. Like they hurt right now and I just woke up.
I feel like my body needs to recover from the traumas I put it through every day at work.
Oh my god so I was reading The Spark last night and somewhere in there it says that "just 5 minutes of stress can leave your immunse system vulnerable for nearly 6 hours." Man. This job is really unhealthy, especially for me, because I have psoriasis which is an immune system disorder. So the amount of time I spend stressing out probably gives me about 5 years to recover. Maybe my body has adapted to a constant state of stress.
Anyways I got to the chapter on sleep and then I threw the book down and just passed out.
So maybe I make some goals. But it's like... getting this job was sheer luck: I have 6 misdomeners! I lucked out and found an employer that was hiring on the spot based on personal interviews. How often do you find that nowadays? Plus I make more than my boyfriend- about 5 dollars more than minimum wage here- and I still can't afford anything. PLUS plus, a large part of me getting ahold of my happy is moving out of my parents' house. Mostly because my dad is a loud drunk and my mom is an obnoxious Christian and I'm sick of their arguments affecting my son, but also because it would be a personal victory for me.
Last night I was chatting with a girl who works with our store volunteer every so often? She's graduating High School in June, and already has her new apartment set up. Plus, with her volunteer experience with us she should have no trouble finding a job.
Why does it seem like the things that help make everything easier later in life all happened right about the time I was too messed up on coricidin to care? I'm not going to say, "Why is it that everything is easier for everyone ELSE!?" It's just, why is it that my depression and drug use back then has such long-lasting effects? Why can't I actually get a fresh start? Probably because I'm still depressed.
So Kylie was talking about her puppy. Everyone was like, "Awww puppies!" And Enrique goes, "I want a puppy." And I was like, "yeah i would want a puppy because they're so cute but what's the point of dogs they just get old and die." And everyone was like, "Woah Cecilia bitter." And I was like haha I just kid. But seriously. That's how I feel about puppies.
They have all these online tests and symptom checkers for how to tell if you're depressed and they're all SO basic and stupid. "Are you tired? Are you sad sometimes? Have you gained weight?" Seriously, it should just be, "How do you feel about puppies." And if you start squealing and making squishy faces you aren't depressed. And if you say, "Puppies just grow old and die." then that's it. There's your answer.
(But they do.)
I guess my problem is I don't enjoy anything.
....Like at all. Not food, not sex, not walking along the beach on a warm summer day, not reading a book or knitting a sweater. I'm like inside this bubble where the world passes me by and runs off to daycare and leaves me home in my pajamas. And people are like "don't dwell on stuff and positive attitude and all that pip pip cheerio" But puppies DO DIE. It's just that I'm unable to rationalize having fun with them while they're here. I've had puppies. They're cute. They grow up and learn stuff and then they're dogs and they're great companions and then they die. Which, honestly we're all going to die so why am I working at Hobby Lobby if I'm just going to die?
I need drugs. Like the brain ones that make your serotonin start talking to you.Which I've also tried but I didn't notice any really exciting changes. not like "real drugs" you can sure feel those workin.'