Archives for November, 2012
I'm losing it very quickly. Life is getting to be too hard. No matter what I do or how hard I try to do things right, I do it all wrong. My husband has been on the third shift and taking classes 5 days a week since August. He's been on third shift longer, but I have felt the major squeeze for about 3 months. I am done. I am scared. A couple months ago I wrote about being at the end of my rope because I was doing it all by myself because of his heavy load. Well he read that post and started pitching in and helping me a lot more around the house but it feels like it comes with a cost. I am stuck in this horrific lose-lose situation. No matter what I do, I still lose.
Sometimes I look around and I wonder why I can't seem to get it together. The laundry isn't quite complete, the counters aren't quite clean enough, I sometimes skip bath night, and dinner often consists of instant mashed potatoes and a quick marinade chicken. My kids yell for clean pants and my husband hollars for clean underwear. I ponder what the nights "fend for yourself" meal will consist of, and I hang my head in shame. Why can't I be "that" woman? I ask myself all the time why I lack the motivation to be the mother I should be. I don't throw these big wonderful birthday parties, I cancel play dates, I struggle to make it to work, and the dishes are my teenagers job. Again, why can't I be "that" woman?
Well, where on earth do I get the idea that my husband should switch jobs with me? That's easy, I believe he thinks he can do it better. Who knows, maybe I kinda feel like he could too. Here is why. With the real estate classes I have been taking, the load has become heavier for my husband. On nights that I have class he has to get the kids off the bus, get them doing their chores and homework, get dinner ready, and do whatever miscellaneous chores that are left to be done. When I get home the house is clean, the kids are all taken care of, and dinner is almost ready. I'm a little bit jealous here. How can he do it so much better than me? The kids are even commenting that he is a better cook than me! What's up with that? Here is what I think.
I have recently started working for a Realtor, who is also a friend of mine. I started working with her because I am very interested in working in Real Estate. I had not given it a great deal of thought yet, but I wanted to look into it to see if it was something I could possibly do. I have not had a successful job, ever. I have always faced challenges any time I started working in one way or another. That is why I filed for SSDI and was eventually approved. I just haven't been able to handle working. Well, my dad and my husband had always tried to get me to give real estate a try but given my history I did not want to pursue it. Who wants to do something when it feels as though failure is imminent? Not me!
My husband and I joke around a lot. We will playfully wrestle, chase each other around the house, giggling and having fun. It's just what we do. For the past 9+ years we have done this. It's never been an issue before and it has always been playful. I don't know exactly what happened, but I had a flashback and began to violently attack my husband. It scared the crap out of him. Anyway it started with playful wrestling and lead to me pretty much losing my mind. Once the playful wrestling started, he grabbed my arms and I was almost instantly taken back to a very dark time in my life.
In a previous post I ranted about how horrible Time Warner Cable has been to me. Well, the problem I had is still going on and this morning I completely lost it. While dealing with a full blown panic and anxiety attack, anger through the roof and frustration that I could not contain I called them - again. I have spent countless hours on the phone with them over the last two months trying to resolve an issue. This is how all of this mess started. They drafted (through auto-pay) nearly $300 from my bank account without warning 3 days after having my cable installed in our new home. Here is what happened, a short version of the story.