Truth

After what feels like most of my life, I’ve finished getting dressed, making up the bed, and setting up weekly pill dispensers. Beyond that, I got bills to pay, meals to plan, groceries to get, laptops to fix, meals to cook, errands to run, phone calls to make, play dates to plan, floors to clean, doctors to visit, and I have done all this for 37 years. And for most of that time, all while working a fulltime job. I feel like I need a vacation, but with our given situation that ain’t never going to happen.
 
It's not that I’m bitter, I mean we raised four decent kids that have all managed to stay out of jail. With half of them so far completing a college education. So I can’t complain there. It’s just that a part of me winces when I use the word “we”. Maybe it’s that small piece of my ego that sees things as they are. Or maybe it’s that tired piece of frustration we all have, that just wishes… . The words dare not come out of my mouth thinking what I’m really thinking. Because I am not a saint or someone that sacrifices freely for the common good.
 
I sit here with a gnarling feeling at the center of my brain. A thought that has been nagging at me for some 40 years. Lord knows why I’m making a confessional of this, about having a feeling of just letting it all go. But responsibility and my plain white bread upbringing dictates I do things this way. Watching others go about their lives so nonchalantly, constantly making major mistakes and still being admired. While I sit here doing my family duties with a painted on smile and a wink in my eye. We live to please others, while we fail to truly please ourselves. I don’t have an answer for this particular situation. But at least I have a sounding board that lives deep within my soul.