Wear And Tear

I tend to write my best stuff when I'm going through some of my most volatile emotions and life questions. Today I'm feeling the wear and tear of things. For any Sex and the City fans, if you recall Charlotte getting all worked up in the shower about things in her marriage and sex life and having to bow to the whims of others, I'm feeling that sentiment hardcore today.

This won't be a complaining diatribe about how everyone sucks. Every relationship has the give and the take. Everything is accommodation, expectation adjustment and compromise. Every so often though, I just get worked up Charlotte style and feel as though I want to quit on life and hide.

Today's frustration is born of mostly work-related things, but considering this is still the best job I've ever had, I tread lightly. See the thing is, I have the trait of being hyper-organized, if I'm being totally transparent. It's something I come into naturally, and it is often used at the advantage of everyone, and at my wits end. 

I arrange the play dates, I plan the birthday parties, I invite the people, I gather friends for dinner. I set the times for moms night out, I book the flights, I restock the house of necessities, I wash and fold the laundry. I organize the school papers, I figure out carpool issues, I book the hotels, VRBOs, arrange the sitters and schedule family photos. It's exhausting actually. But whatever, I'm a planner.

Because of this attribute, it is impressioned upon me that I adopt the plans of others and effectively become a physical google-reminder notification in some cases. I'm the one that checks in, harasses kindly but just to the point of obnxiousness, and puts together every damned life event, or so it feels today.

If we are invited to a wedding, I do all the research on where and book the place to stay and how to get there, and I make sure everyone has proper fitting attire, I get the shower gift, the wedding gift and ensure that we arrive on time. If we host a dinner, I will do the bulk of the shopping, arrange the timing, kid food, activities and make sure the house is spotless.

This isn't to say I'm a one woman show. The husband cooks and helps often, but as far as taking the forefront on arranging? That will always be my "thing." I don't know if he even has the sitter's phone number and he's never asked her to babysit. That is always me. I am commissioned to solve the lack of planning ability of others and work around it, and it tests me to no end.

This morning was a reiteration of yesterday of the reach out, no response, the follow up because I needed a timely response, yet was still left with no response. Finally I had to call and the first question I got was, "Why did you wait so long to call?" Can you feel my eyes roll through the blog? Two texts and an email, and the call was the last ditch effort and then I'm asked why the call wasn't first? My question is...why must I chase what I need to facilitate my day?

Have you ever felt like your world is just pure chaos of the whims of others? I feel the wear and tear of this often. Some days I wear it like a cape and it makes me super-mom or epic wife and best friend to all. Other days I have my selfish narcissistic moment of ,"Well what about me?"

My time with my husband is always on his days off. My mom helping me with anything is almost always by her schedule and not mine. And like a fantastic doormat, or a typical Rachel move, I just work around it. There's a weird line between being flexible and being a pushover.

I don't feel "preyed upon" for my pushover status but I truly feel as though, after going through such long periods of time feeling unheard or having what I was saying misunderstood or downplayed, I just became so quiet that I started saying "yes" to avoid the conflict or explanation of why I said "no."

Just a year ago I was in this weird place where I was volunteering a lot. There were a handful of times where I could say with confidence I actually got something out of it, but mostly I noticed how much disarray there was with logistics and the events were rarely kid friendly. It became this huge stress and burden for me. There were times when I was expected to participate and I'd drive to the next county over and then find out I wasn't needed or there wasn't a place for me. It was doing a number on me mentally. That's when I had to learn the art of boundaries.

It has taken me years in therapy to get this whole boundaries thing. Sometimes I am clear as day with the boundaries stuff and I still am pushed over. It's takes it's mental toll and there you have that wear and tear factor again.

Sometimes it wears on me that I have to be so proactive or overactive in relationships and social things just to maintain them. Sometimes it tears me apart how hard I work with little feedback. On the other hand, boy does it completely alter my perspective in a positive direction for recognizing the people in my life that repair rather than wear and tear.

I have friends that are just healing forces. They completely share the give and take and make our friendship work well. But I can't lie, they aren't all that way, and that's actually okay. Not only do these exchanges give me lessons in boundaries, but I have gone through life phases were I couldn't muster the give and take, and I wasn't the best reciprocate-er either. 

The wear and tear of feeling so responsible for arranging the "stuff" of others can vary. I've had my low down, hateful days filled with swear words and anger about why is it MY problem and why is it MY fault and why is it MY responsibility? Sometimes it can feel dark and hopeless holding onto that internal ultimatum of if I don't do it, who will? Such as, if I don't text that person, they probably won't text me and if they won't text me are we still even friends? Or if I don't set up play dates then the kid won't have play dates and if the kid doesn't have play dates, she'll be grouchy and take it out on me. It can turn into a weird and vicious mental cycle, fast.

Wear and tear is normal. We all have good and bad days. I've definitely been more aware of what it all culminates to, however. Yesterday my anxieties around communication left me hangry and irritable. This morning's exchange had a similar flare up. My antidote is blogging, getting lost in work, and many many reminders that low expectations and taking everything as it comes is all I can do.

Sometimes you have to be the alarm for your husband. Sometimes you have to shop with your mom for things for the granddaughter when it is insanely inconvenient for you. Sometimes you have to do extra for a friend, even if they might not return the favor, but because that's just who you are as a friend. It's all within the wear and tear of this thing called LIFE. A dresser might have some chips on it but it still holds the clothes, so it's still functional and essentially fulfilling it's purpose. Perhaps this can be my alliteration for today to push me though. Heck it might even work for you too!

When Your Lot In Life Is To Play "That Bitch"

There's an amazing monologue in the movie "Mean Girls" where Tina Fey starts talking about this "Burn book," where all of the girls in it are called names and she says "Well, I don't know who wrote this book, but you all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it okay for guys to call you sluts and whores." "Bitches" is in that same category. And yet, "Bitch" has now become slang and as women we kind of took it back as our own.

This isn't really a feminist rant thing but while I wish we could take these common words out of our vernacular and especially out of the mouths of men, I will admit that ever since I was about 12 I realized that even though "bitch" is technically a "swear" or bad word, that if you own it as a strong title of being unafraid or even brave, it seemingly loses it's negative connotation. 

My first experience being "that bitch," was facing off with my mom. I had to stand my ground and there was no room for weakness. This is something I learned with anyone with addiction or substance abuse issues as they can prey on you and attack if you cannot muster the energy to be "that bitch" in most scenarios with them. At least that way my personal experience with it.

Ironically, when you really know me, even when you first meet me, you probably wouldn't get the "bitch" vibe from me. Nor do I try and carry around with me any type of feeling of "If you cross me, you'll be sorry." Regardless, I am often cast the starring role in all productions of being "That bitch."

Sometimes this can serve well, and sometimes it really takes it's toll on me mentally.

I've learned with my mom to accept that with any situation that she disagrees with when it comes to me, it's because I'm "that bitch" in her eyes. There have been a few employers who have brought out that role in me because I'd been backed into a corner and refused to compromise myself or in some cases, my marriage, just because they wanted me to better play the role of "quiet, compliant and does what she's told with a plastic smile."

This whole secondary persona that has followed me, is often quite haunting. Being the "controlling" one, the "planner" the "arranger" and the "mess cleaner upper" aren't "fun" things to do. You win no favors or affections doing these things. Sometimes I wish I could be the person who doesn't care. I wish I could not pay bills without a care or worry. I wish I could just arrive at work late and leave early with no consideration for anyone else. I wish I could go buy what I want, when I want to, but alas, I have other responsibilities.

So wait, has responsibility and adulthood just morphed me into "that bitch?" I was violently shoved into growing up before I was ready, so did that bring me in to my "that bitch" ways? Interesting thoughts on this thoughtful Thursday.

I've said in therapy and owned it over and over that I truly believe I will just always be "that bitch" in the eyes of many close to me. I wish that I wasn't painted into that but:

  

I think what makes me sad sometimes is I feel I rarely have the chance to prove myself otherwise. When you're cast in role early you get typecast, no? Won't Elijah Wood always be Frodo and Matthew Perry will never not be Chandler Bing? Thus, just call me "that Bitch."

I'm not so sure if you screamed that name on the street I'd turn around, but there is a large part of me that owns the fact that part of me is just engraved within my core. I think the people who have known me the longest know it's under there, but have rarely awakened it. There are definitely a few things that bring it out immediately.

When I was a nanny, anyone that was about to harm the kiddos in my care, in any way, shape or form, saw me as "that bitch." I was not putting it out there that I was nice. Sometimes they had friends that I didn't like and with those friends, I was very much "that bitch." When it comes to my friends being hurt or taken advantage of, I will come out swinging if necessary and most recently you can see me do an award-winning performance when it comes to my daughter. I will be your worst enemy if you mistreat her or do anything around the realm of harming her.

There are some things I'm extremely rigid about, but in other ways I think I'm just a big softy. My recent brush with depression and anxiety just reminded me though, that in some villainizing ways, I will always be "that bitch." If it comes to a good cop bad cop thing, I will always be the bad cop.

I'm the "ruiner;" the one that squashes the fun. I'm the rule-keeper and the one with all the budgets, schedules and plans ready to enforce! Some days of this are better than others. I like to think maybe I'm kind of similar to Deadpool, that not-so-super hero comic character. He's lovable but rude, sarcastic and kind of a mess. He is well-intentioned and ultimately saves people but in a very unorthodox and unattractive way more often than not. 

While there is a part of me, and especially after my mental relapse, that wishes the obverse was true, my ability to handle all of the things, plan, create rules, goals and be "that bitch," ultimately serves everyone around me, whether they like it or not. While I know how my controlling tendencies drive my husband insane, I also keep us out of major debt and in good standing with all of the bills we pay on time.

Because of my rigidity with routines and my stick-to-itive-ness on schedules, my daughter seems to be thriving more with the new school year, even if she complains when I take things away and make her do homework and chores. 

And lastly, my being "that bitch," was the beginning of my mother's "rock bottom" that inevitably got her sober so it's hard for me to have regrets. Mostly, right now, I regret the fact that I step into that roll so well and so easily. I regret that the shoe fits, so I wear it.

I've found myself wondering if I had the opportunity to be a little more relaxed and free, who could that be? What would that even be like? For this thoughtful Thursday, while owning my lot in life as "that bitch," a girl can also dream that one day the world would soften her and make her "that fun friend," or that "sweet soul," or even that "big ol' softie." It could come with growth, with age, or just with exhaustion but maybe one day I can retire that roll and master a new one!