I hate all forms of negativity.
It drives me nuts. I will actually will myself to be happy, even when everything around me is awful & stupid & I want to punch something. This has been the last three weeks of my life. There are random snippets of awesome mixed in with stupid, but the more I fixate on proving some kind of point that I’m totally kicking ass at this “I moved across the country, now watch me be a super success,” the more I want to sit down & cry.
I’m tired of fighting with the dad as he lays the pity trips on the girls about how he might not come for Xmas, because he can’t afford it & has no job (seven counts of sexual harassment & misconduct will do that), even though I’m paying to fly him out here for Xmas. Every extra cent I have goes to ensuring he can see his kids. I even offered him a way to never pay child support again if he wanted to move closer & be a parent. But then I get the blast of how I don’t care about him & I’m selfish & boo hoo & I know it shouldn’t, but it gets to me. I get personally offended when he doesn’t call on the first day of school or when he tries to worm his way out of visiting, making the kids cry. Like, why can’t you put aside your pettiness & be a freaking dad? I know I shouldn’t care, but I keep trying to help him be involved & I am always the bad guy.
Then there’s my job, that adds more responsibility (as now I may be traveling to our sister store twice a month), which I should be grateful for, but I’m just tired. This means more time away from home. This means more time away from writing, which frustrates me so, as I’m working so hard on an article that may never see the light of day because my editor doesn’t return my emails & won’t give me an official Greenlight to work on it, but wants me to write it. I’m jumping through hoops, so I blog more almost for validation, like please someone think I’m talented. My schedule lends me little free time, so I spent most of my day off scrambling to put a birthday together for my six year old because I had literally done nothing. That brings working mom guilt. I used to be good at time management. I used to be queen of making my kids birthdays the best ever. I barely have my kid’s party planned & I still don’t own a table. Oh, and I forgot to make anything. Like, at all. It’s in two days. In the age of Pinterest moms, I’m pretty sure I won’t be winning any mom of the year awards any time soon.
And of course, this is all exacerbated by the fact that I’m lonely af. My birthday is in 10 days & it’s the first time in six years I’m not working/in school/caring for a newborn. I know four people in this city. One is super pregnant. The others are working (& you literally cannot be upset with someone because they have to work, you just can’t. It’s so rude). I know the kids & I will have a blast (until WWE ruins my life later on in the evening), but it just makes me feel so incredibly lonely.
I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me, but I’m just so freaking lonely. Sometimes it feels like my boyfriend is my only companion & then I feel guilty because he has friends & a life & I really don’t. And I don’t want to be a drain on him or rely on him as the only adult I spend time with. It’s bad enough I feel like a broke ass because he pays for everything & I would like to feel like I somehow improve his life & make him happy & not poor. But I miss having my inner circle. I want my best friends with me on my birthday. I don’t want to wait until November to see them (if I can swing it, as I’m also trying to make sure the dad can see the girls for Xmas), I just want my best friends here for my birthday…
…I want to go home.
Yes, I’m a huge Debbie Downer right now & that actually pisses me off. I hate negativity. I’m the happiest person in the whole wide world. So there. But I thought this would all be easy. I’d be a good cell phone boss lady, and right now I don’t feel very good at it. I’d get a writing job easy peasy. I’d make friends like I did in London. But I feel like I’m sinking under a ever growing tidal wave of self doubt & loneliness & I just want to feel like I belong here or that my presence in this stupid cow province meant anything.
I also understand that I’ll be fine in a couple of days. I’m super bad ass & I don’t need anyone to make me feel better. I just feel guilty that I was so unprepared for my kid’s birthday & lonely & kind of like an island. But even the happiest girl in the world is allowed to feel sad, or homesick, or like an island in the universe with no one else on it & the rum is gone.
But the fact that I’m whining actually pisses me off more than my recognizing that these feelings are perfectly valid. Hence the late night blog rant. I recognize that it’s okay to feel this way, I just won’t allow it, because I am amazing & I will just power through & smile like the happy little creature that I am, because that’s the expectation I’ve set for myself & I’m determined to succeed here, even if right now it feels like I’m drowning.