Friday, 17 December 2010

The deep abyss

The deep abyss of self pity. The deep wallowing self indulgent lone drama of 'poor me'. A classic! Every woman is familiar with this state, I am sure - it can sneak right up on you when you least expect it. I had a real doozie the other day, what a laughable state; in retrospect I realize I was over dramatizing myself and it was quite funny, oh boo hoo, poor me, I'm so tired, life's so tough wah wah. As you may note I am currently over my abyss of self pity, but at the time it really was a nice wallow, and I did feel overwhelmingly sad/frustrated at life/'poor me'. A sign of weakness? Surely not. A sign of insecurity? Possible.

I have been feeling a bit like things are reeling away, the slippery devils I haven't been able to grasp tightly enough like I used to in the old days: workload, finances, personal time. Generally I have an 'I'll just get on with it' attitude, which has served me pretty well considering my circumstances now. It is end of year though, and tensions are high approaching the holidays, year end work goals need to be accomplished, Christmas presents bought, Christmas work parties to try to get to. I think that might have been what put me over the edge, trying to arrange something so I could leave the house and go to my work dinner. This single mum thing is such an ordeal. OK, having a partner doesn't do much on the workload front...well, actually I take that back, it does really because even if some tiny morsel of house chores could be done by someone else, I'd be better rested, or could catch up in the evenings. Having a partner definitely helps in the finances department - it is EXPENSIVE having kids, having a house, [having anything nowadays] and another salary would be nice. Where I find it most difficult to get a grasp on now, and what sends me into a good wallow, is the lack of personal time. Or personal freedom, really. Four months of being a prisoner in my own home is starting to get old, if I am honest. I can't leave this place! Well, I could leave this place. But at great ordeal, it seems. If my husband were living here, I could just walk out the door, say "Goodbye, I'll be back in [20 minutes, 1 hour, after my night out] see you later!" and I'd be off. Now - ordeal.

A friend had kindly offered to babysit sometime to release me from the clutches of my home; sadly at the time I couldn't even think of what I'd do! What would I go out and do alone for one night, after 7 pm? Go to the hotel down the road and see if I could get my toes done (that might be nice actually)? If I had a regular gig I'd for sure join something - the Village Players, library group, dance class, swimming. One off's are more difficult to decide on - cinema? I could ask another friend to come out, but I wouldn't do that actually, I'd feel weird having one friend babysit and take another one out, it wouldn't seem right. So when my work Christmas dinner came up I though 'OH perfect! The opportunity I'd been waiting for!'. Unfortunately my kind friend had her work dinner the same night. Hmmm no babysitter. OK then, step 2. I asked my other friend's daughter who usually babysits for me - she is babysitting somewhere else that night. OK, step 3. I make a general plea on Facebook. No takers so far. Step 4. Ask one of the nursery ladies if she will babysit (one who has come once before - but was so expensive I hadn't dared ask again!) - but she is busy that night too! Ugh this is where I am getting into expensive territory though, where I have to really ask myself, is it worth going out for a few hours which will cost me at least 30 quid?? That's why the regular gig options are out of the question. No way I am paying that kind of money weekly to go to some library group, or the gym - if the night out was free? That would be nice to get out. In my case, no way.

So my husband calls on Skype, and I was already teetering on self pity weariness anyway (no babysitter - I know the DRAMA of it all!)...and just seeing him, and he is coming home next week for a visit, and...I don't know. It all just made me wallowy and he is talking and I am doing the female furtive sniffling thing. He finally notices and asks how I am, and says "Don't worry, you'll find a babysitter"...and I say "I'm just hooo...I'm just tired...". Was I really that tired? I am not sure. Fed up? Maybe. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't that I couldn't find a babysitter - I knew I could find a babysitter, I mean, come on, really of course I could. I guess the babysitter thing just presented the reality to me of my situation. Just...the whole thing. I think it is my general insecurity of it all, and everything being just a little bit beyond my control, a little bit beyond my reach. I see the desire of my kids for their security toys they sleep with, and the attachment is deep. A more literal sense in their case, but a Lamby and Bobo dolly might be nice right now, just something to cuddle, you know will be there and you can grasp hold of whenever you need. Where's my Lamby? Husband, where are you? Freedom, where are you?

My son must feel like me right now, as Lamby and Bobo had to go into an emergency wash tonight (we were out for the whole day and the kids had closed the access doors to the cat's food and litter box; poor cat pooed and weed all over my son's bed and dollies in desperation while we were out), and even extra Lamby and Bobo are dirty and in the other washing bin. He had done some serious wallowing about this, and wallowed and wailed about no Lamby and Bobo until almost 8:30 pm. It's quiet now though. I'll take that as an inspiration for myself, I can just get on with it, and I do get on with it. Since my funk moment anyway I've been fine, no need to wallow anyway. I like my life. I like my job. I like my kids. I like the challenges. And I have another [expensive] nursery lady lined up to be available for my night out, and a friend has now got back to me (thank you!) to babysit also - TWO babysitters! Mountain out of a molehill, the deep abyss is really quite a shallow one after all.

Sometimes it's nice to have a good moan anyway, and have someone listen to you boo hoo "I'm soooooooo tiiiiired!!!". It feels good afterwards, doesn't it, when you can have a laugh at yourself! There are sure benefits of 'poor me'. And of security dollies. Don't worry my little one, I'll have Lamby back in no time.

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