And no, I don't need a man. I'd like one, yeah, but on my own terms. I just watched this whole movie about how everyone tells a single lady that she needs a man. And she said something amazing: "I don't need to love you in order to prove that I love myself".
What I need is a way out of this shithole. It all just seems so pointless -- I mean you get up, you take a shower, you go to work, you get bossed around, you smile nicely while you take shit from everyone who has worked there longer than you, you have your lunch break when you contemplate driving home and never returning to work, maybe even moving to Nepal, or India, or any Buddhist country and leaving all this behind; then it's 6 p.m. and you get to finally really drive home, where your kid has been standing in the doorway for the past 30 to 40 minutes, repeating "Mommy's coming home to me" to the entrance door window. How heart-wrenching is that, by the way? So you speed home, making the 20 minute drive (because of the traffic) in less than 10, you open the door and Kid jumps into your arms screaming her head off that Mommy is finally home. When she finally goes to bed at 9.30 p.m. and it's still too early to go to sleep, but you're too damn tired to do anything else, you crash into bed, turn on the TV and fall asleep before you flip to your third channel.
And on top of it all, the baby-sitter, who is an idiot anyway, and whom you would have fired, had you had another (reasonable) option to care for the Kid -- quits by text message. ("I'm not coming anymore")
And then it's morning all over again.
It's like Groundhog Day, it never stops -- and, as my dear mother would sarcastically say: "And, my dear, this is only the beginning." There has to be something else, something different that we could do. Something not monotonous. Something...enlightening.
There just has to be a way of eating Caramel Toffee Pudding Ice-Cream and pasta whenever you feel like it and not put on weight. There has to be a way to get up the energy to go for a jog now and then. There has to be a way to keep all your good mood and patience for the time you spend at home.
I feel like I need a vacation. A "just-me-and-my-backpack"-vacation. Haven't had one of those in about 3 years.
And, I feel I need to forgive myself for so many things. I just can't do it yet - they're so deep and so old. I would also like somebody close to me to stop telling me that the only way I am not going to die a single mother is if I am willing to have another child, at some point, with some dude who would be my partner. This thought just brutally pushes away every hope that I have of a future relationship, because having another child seems just as remote an idea to me as living on Pandora. When I hear that nobody will ever stick around unless I have his baby, too, it's like a vinyl record stopping short in the pick-up player, it's like in Ally McBeal, when the song playing in her head gets interrupted by something happening outside.
So, then -- what of my life? How to get up the balance, the equilibrium that Kid needs? How to keep smiling, when it gets (ahem, I get) darker and colder and drier inside, every day? It's as if, even as small fractions of time go by, it gets harder to yield, harder to open up, harder to believe in a happy ending. Happy rhymes with crappy. It's like, It is what it is and we gotta make the best of it. I can't "attraversare"; I can't cross over, not just yet, mainly because I don't see a viable variant to this mess.
Yeah, I know. You're probably right. I have an appointment with my shrink next week.
