I've decided my calling is not to be employed full time outside the home. Really, I'm called to be a parent. There is no justification for the distraction of me working here, except for the mortgage and the cushy lifestyle we've desired and become accustomed to. And he and I have talked about it: if we had a kid, it would be financially irresponsible of me to quit. I'm not going to be an irresponsible parent, either, and I'm not going to pay a stranger to play peek-a-boo with my baby because I didn't figure out how to get this done right.
I hate spring. I can ignore this calling at other times of the year. But really, should I? I mean, my mom was right. I feel like crap in the springtime, and it's because I'm a married 33-year-old Catholic woman with no kids. In fact, deliberately medicating myself to keep from having kids. My life is wrong, fundamentally. And there's no easy way to make it right.
It's not supposed to be easy, is it?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
flat on my face
Man, and I thought I was doing well. Nothing like a stomach flu to rip me away from the exercise and diet I've devised to keep me emotionally stable. So I was crying at mass on Easter Sunday (the 2nd time this month; at least I was able to keep it together enough to stick around this time), and again listening to "Defying Gravity" on the drive up to the in-laws. When it hurts, it hurts every time my spirit stirs, like it's trapped among broken glass. And I forget or ignore the things that sweep the glass away. I'm smart enough, at least, to recognize what's going on and not do anything stupidly drastic . . .
Wow, did I marry the right guy. I fell in love with him in the middle of an emotional identity crisis (to study abroad in Paris, or to stay and find out if he was the One?) -- he didn't freak out, and he never has. He reminds me how useful it is to think rationally, and that I *can* think even when my feel is so off.
I am sincerely looking forward to bellydancing tonight, and hoping for Silver Creek Falls this weekend. Gotta get out of this cage.
Wow, did I marry the right guy. I fell in love with him in the middle of an emotional identity crisis (to study abroad in Paris, or to stay and find out if he was the One?) -- he didn't freak out, and he never has. He reminds me how useful it is to think rationally, and that I *can* think even when my feel is so off.
I am sincerely looking forward to bellydancing tonight, and hoping for Silver Creek Falls this weekend. Gotta get out of this cage.
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