I woke up at 3:10 in the morning. My fan died, and literally as soon as the white noise went away, my eyelids popped open. It's pretty sad when you can't sleep because it's too darn quiet in the room. After an hour of laying in the deafening silence listening to my husband breathe and being annoyed by it, I resorted to opening the bathroom door and turning the fan on - it was better than nothing, and eventually I fell back asleep. When did I become so intolerant of silence? Maybe the noise masks my own inner voice that won't shut up, or maybe I'm just getting way too set in my ways, but I can not sleep without some sort of noise barrier.
Barriers can be beneficial, say in a flood, but they also hold things in, so they are hindrances as well. I'm sitting here in a quiet room, and I can't think of the words I want to say. It's scary, because I used to be so articulate, and I worry that my mind is starting to fail me. For now, I'll just blame it on the barrier - the barrier of silence that won't permit my thoughts to escape. Somehow, I need to overcome this obstacle if I want to leave this place for a better one.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Who am I?
I've been conditioned my whole life to feel like I'm burdening someone. Who you ask? Well, anyone who happens to be in my life at the time. If I'm not making life miserable for my husband, then I'm driving my family crazy, or I've pissed a friend/acquaintance off on the almighty Facebook. I guess this 'awareness' of burden started when my father died - I was ten years old. My mother resented him for wanting to divorce her, but what really pissed her off was that he planned to take me with him if he did. I'm not sure if you get the jest of the previous statement, but my mom ended up punishing me for my father's disinterest in her. So yeah, it kinda sucked growing up. Well, that suckiness has managed to ooze and situate itself into and throughout my entire adult life.
I need to find a reason to exist, other than to make dinner and do the laundry. I crave a kind of solitude that comes only from believing that if no one else ever loved me again, it would be okay, and that I can survive on my own. I need to find the strength inside to pursue this, and I need to do it now, but...why am I so tired? Why do I feel so weak sometimes, but then other times I feel like I can do anything? How can I train myself to be confident and strong all the time?
What it boils down to is this: I don't have a clue who I am anymore. I have been a full time mother since the birth of my daughter, Ashley, almost twenty six years ago; the Teresa before that point has long been forgotten. My son, Evan, will be leaving for college in August 2013. That's eight months from now. In eight months, I will be a broken person. In eight months, I will be a miserable, depressed, and inconsolable human being who just doesn't care. They are my best friends. My babies will both be gone, and my house will be empty, except for the husband who acts like he just doesn't care anymore. My sister thinks I'm overreacting, and her judgement just screams, "Hey, look at me!! I'm the perfect mother who has her act together, or at least everyone THINKS I do! Every single thing you, my dear little sister, have ever done is wrong, and I'll never let you forget it - the way you're feeling right now is wrong, wrong, WRONG." And her husband, well, I've always felt like he graciously tolerates me, because he is so perfect, you know, just like everyone else in my life.
Maybe feeling this way is a good thing? Maybe it will light a fire under me that will motivate my journey of self discovery. Or, maybe I'll just get burned by the fire.
I need to find a reason to exist, other than to make dinner and do the laundry. I crave a kind of solitude that comes only from believing that if no one else ever loved me again, it would be okay, and that I can survive on my own. I need to find the strength inside to pursue this, and I need to do it now, but...why am I so tired? Why do I feel so weak sometimes, but then other times I feel like I can do anything? How can I train myself to be confident and strong all the time?
What it boils down to is this: I don't have a clue who I am anymore. I have been a full time mother since the birth of my daughter, Ashley, almost twenty six years ago; the Teresa before that point has long been forgotten. My son, Evan, will be leaving for college in August 2013. That's eight months from now. In eight months, I will be a broken person. In eight months, I will be a miserable, depressed, and inconsolable human being who just doesn't care. They are my best friends. My babies will both be gone, and my house will be empty, except for the husband who acts like he just doesn't care anymore. My sister thinks I'm overreacting, and her judgement just screams, "Hey, look at me!! I'm the perfect mother who has her act together, or at least everyone THINKS I do! Every single thing you, my dear little sister, have ever done is wrong, and I'll never let you forget it - the way you're feeling right now is wrong, wrong, WRONG." And her husband, well, I've always felt like he graciously tolerates me, because he is so perfect, you know, just like everyone else in my life.
Maybe feeling this way is a good thing? Maybe it will light a fire under me that will motivate my journey of self discovery. Or, maybe I'll just get burned by the fire.
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