S#*t’s Far

ImageI haven’t blogged in a few weeks now. Why? Honestly, because I have been swimming in a sea of negativity, and I harbor a righteous and bone deep fear (since being voted “Little Miss Sunshine” by my peers Freshman year of college) of being perceived as Debbie Downer if I publically express said negativity. It is one of the few areas of my life where the negative self-talk still prevails. It isn’t that I don’t allow myself to feel unhappy. I accept my emotions as a part of me, and I treat them all with compassion and kindness. (I just tend to treat the sadness and anxiety with compassion and kindness…while they are locked in the attic recesses of my mind.) So, here I am. Emptying the attic. Shooing the bats from the belfry, as it were, and I’ve just got to say, (as a dear friend from college once said (drunk from the backseat) on a road-trip) “shit’s far.”

Pardon my French, (although I am sure that you all speak fluent French) but it is true. Shit. Is. Far. There is always so much to do, not enough time, not enough money, not enough me to go around. It is easy to get caught in that spin. In the past month I have been trying to rebrand my business in time for a “launch” in mid-March, while still running said business, taking care of a family that has been walloped by this cold and flu season repeatedly, being a full time stay at home parent and all that entails, and attempting the completely dietary overhaul, lifestyle change, and mourning for baklava that comes from being told you can’t have anything with gluten in it, ever again. This resulted in a terribly unflattering and self-shame worthy biscuit binge last week, which, in turn, resulted in my getting really sick (with the flu) for the first time since I quit gluten last Fall…

Really sick resulted in the realization that, for a country so hell bent on “family values,” we sure treat stay at home parents like third class citizens. Stay-at-homers get fired on from all sides. We are damned no matter what we do. It is unreal. Don’t get me wrong, I know that working (going out of the house to an “else” type place and working) parents don’t have it easy either, but at least you get sick time! (Whether or not you are able to use that time is between you and whatever dysfunctional corporation you work for.) Having to hope that your spouse’s boss is in a good enough mood to not be a bully because said spouse is not visibly dying and is asking to leave work…it is a guilt ridden, belittling, and really, really disheartening process. (Demoralizing fun for the whole family!) To feel like your wellbeing, and by extension, the wellbeing of your children means so little in the grand scheme of things is enough to make and already sick gal weary to the core. Until we make the health and welfare (mental and physical) of every member of our society more important than having listless and unproductive employees “in office” from 9am to 6pm, there will never be any real shift in the societal importance of “family.” How can we make it our number one priority, when day in and day out we are told (relentlessly) that the most important thing is business? When our entire world revolves, not around making sure that employees are happy, healthy, and home in time for dinner, but upon making sure that they are at their desks for an allotted amount of time because that is what is perceived (but not proven) to make them “good employees.” It is exhausting. It makes me want to move to Denmark. C’mon, America. Wake up. But until it does… shit’s far. Far, and unfair to everyone involved, because odds are the boss is in the same position with her/his family, and the spiral continues…

All that being said, I made it out the other side more or less in one piece. (With no plans of becoming an ExPat anytime soon.) I am still dragging, I am still a little sad and battered from my brush with the very real complications of the life I have chosen for myself and my family, but I’m going to be alright. I write this blog only because I know that many, many of you out there just need someone to say it. High five the screen if you want. I don’t mind. Or just post a rant in the comment section. Open your attic. Let the anger bats fly free. It feels good.


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