The other night, I sat on my sofa wishing I could blend into it without being noticed, in part because my kids were in the other room arguing. Over nothing. How do I know, you ask? Because I was within earshot. I’d hazard a guess that 97% of their arguments are over nothing. They get along when no one is watching, and save the fireworks for me. Most days I rise to the occasion, but lately more often than not, I’m just whipped.
Typically, I’m good at filling all of my roles. I’m a “good” mom, daughter, sister and friend. I bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, clean the aforementioned pan, love, pamper, cheerlead, advise, provide a great shoulder and a welcoming ear. But I have this terrible habit of being human, so I’m rarely good at all of these things at the same time.
When I’m being supermom, that means I haven’t seen my friends in ages. If I’m being powerhouse there for you sister friend, I probably haven’t talked to my dad and step-mom in a month. Even if I talk to one of my siblings every day, I have four, so someone is left out and lacking.
It spreads you thin. At times, it makes you resentful. Being the sofa chameleon the other night gave me an odd cocktail of anger, sadness and defeat. Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed with the demands life puts on me at any given moment, that I can hardly see straight. There are days where the light at the end of the tunnel feels like a pinhole that moves a mile for every step I take. Thoughts of being a failure burrow deep into my flesh and attach themselves to my bones. I cry just as often as I laugh, and the sobs hurt more than the belly laughs heal. I’m 34, and I still don’t completely have my universe figured out.
But you know what?
To hell with it. Because I’m in it. I’ve got my arms and legs wrapped around this life thing, and I’m biting into it for extra measure. Decorating myself with a bunch of kick-ass adjectives would sound nice: “strong,” “talented,” “dynamic.” But the truth is, I’m a regular chick with a dream that occasionally gets scared of how big the dream actually is. But I’ll be damned that if I turn into the jackass who doesn’t try to get as close to that dream as possible. Figuring it all out may never happen. Quitting will never happen.