Mid life crisis? Me?

October 26, 2011

Yeah, really. I think that’s what it is, at 32. As a good friend (a really good friend I’ll add) pointed out last night. I did start my adult life at the age of 16, so it stands to reason, my mid life crisis would rear it’s ugly head a little earlier. So, now what? Another friend ( a really good friend as well) suggested I sit down and make a list of what I want to do with my life. Not a bucket list, that’s a bit on the negative side. We are talking about living my life, not hurry up and do this stuff before you die. So, I started thinking last night about the dreams I had way back when, and are they realistically achievable now, and do I even still want them.

1. Join the coast guard  Nope, not even remotely feasible anymore. Pity.

2. Study marine biology Again, not looking very promising. Double pity.

3. Purchase my midlife crisis sports car That would require money and it’s just too damn cliche.

4. …

and here’s where I draw a blank. I know that I want more. I know that I want to do something with my life, but what? What is it I want really? Maybe I need to figure out what I’m unhappy with in my life first. Perhaps, some reorganizing and decluttering is in order.

Well, I know I can’t do “the simple” life. I’ve tried convincing myself it’s what I want, but it’s a lie. I’m lying to myself. I can’t abide the simple, quiet life. I like simple, quiet moments, sure, but a whole lifetime? NO! I require action. And quite frankly, living in peaceful, quite Amish country just isn’t doing it for me. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to most of you that I enjoy being the life of the party. I am also a night owl and they roll up the sidewalks at 5:00 around here. It’s killing me! Really? Haven’t you people ever heard of night life? I’m a social butterfly. I need interaction with other people, often, or I dry up. Preferably people with more personality than corrugated cardboard. I have been very blessed to find such people in my Stitch’n Bitch group, and a few other rare gems have popped up here and there.

I also know I’m tired of being tired, and overweight. I am working on that, but I thought perhaps I need something a bit more specific to work towards. 12. That’s what I’m working towards, size 12. I don’t care what I weigh, when I am a size 12 again I will be insanely happy. And totally considering going under the knife. No, for real. Tummy tuck, here I come. I’m going to need one.

This is all so bizarre, this crazy, antsy, burning,  stirring inside of me. I know I want change, but what kind of change is just killing me! My biggest goal right now, is to just be me, and to stop feeling guilty and making apologies for it.

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Is There Life Out There?

October 25, 2011

She married when she was twenty
She thought she was ready
Now she’s not so sure
She thought she’d done some living
But now she’s just wonderin’
What she’s living for
Now she’s feeling that there’s something more

Is there life out there
So much she hasn’t done
Is there life beyond
Her family and her home
She’s done what she should
Should she do what she dares
She doesn’t want to leave
She’s just wonderin
Is there life out there

She’s always lived for tomorrow
She’s never learned how
To live for today
She’s dyin’ to try something foolish
Do something crazy
Or just get away
Something for herself for a change

Is there life out there
So much she hasn’t done
Is there life beyond
Her family and her home
She’s done what she should
Should she do what she dares
She doesn’t want to leave
She’s just wonderin
Is there life out there

There’s a place in the sun that she’s never been
Where life is fair and time is a friend
Would she do it the same as she did back then
She looks out the window and wonders again

Is there life out there
So much she hasn’t done
Is there life beyond
Her family and her home
She’s done what she should
Should she do what she dares
She doesn’t want to leave
She’s just wonderin
Is there life out there

These are the lyrics to a country song. I remember hearing this a long time ago, back when my mom was listening to more country. My best friend sent me the lyrics yesterday and I’d say they are spot on. This, this is how I’ve been feeling lately. Again, first world problem, but a problem it is. My adulthood started when I was 16. Heck, when most kids my age were getting cd players over their Junior Christmas break in high school, I got married. Of course, it was my own foolishness that started this long chain of events. Since then I really haven’t done much of anything for myself. I put my dreams of college on the back burner so that my daughter’s father could go to college. It was more important for him to go, and we didn’t have the money for both of us to go. A hard pill to swallow. Even harder to swallow, again, when you are 32 and doing it all over again. Travis is looking to go to college, by my urging. Again, it just makes more sense for him to go to college, and for me to continue to raise the kids. Again, no money for both of us to go. I’m glad he’s going and I really think this is going to be so life changing for him. Again though, it just throws into sharp contrast how little of my life I have lived for me. I have given up many things for the good of other people in my life. I did it and mostly, I’ve been glad. Lately though, my stay at home mom shoes have been pinching my feet. I love my job, I love my kids, and I know our decision for me to stay at home is giving them a great start in life.  However…I want more. Small things, and big things, just more than the life I am currently leading. I want to do something for myself.

Over the years whenever I get to feeling like I can be that person I want to be, I get pushed back into that “mom” mold by society, by family, by friends. Every time I try to morph back into Tracey, not just a mom, I get, “You’ve changed? What’s up? Is something wrong? You’re not your usual self.” Well yes actually, this is me, I’m just not allowed to be “me”, because I’m expected to just be mom. That’s not fair. Not just to me, but to every mom. We are more than our productive status. This also applies to all the women out there who don’t want to have kids and are constantly pressured by society/family to have kids. Push, push, push us into that mold so that once we are there, we are not allowed to be anything else.We have to be super mom and we are not allowed to burn out. It’s an impossible task.

Please, don’t get me wrong, being a mother, even at the age of 16, was and is the most incredible experience of my life, but it’s not all of my life. It is a part of my life that is immensely pleasurable to me and a huge blessing. However, I’m tired of being treated like it’s the only life I’m allowed because I chose to procreate. I don’t think I’m living a good model for my children by losing myself entirely to motherhood. I want my to bring my kids into my life, not make my life all about my kids.

I don’t want to leave, I’m just wondering if there’s life out there.


Perspective

October 16, 2011

Here I sit, wallowing in my own murk. Whining about my cushy first world life with my first world problems. Meanwhile, half a world away, in Africa, in the Congo, someone’s baby has been stolen. Someone’s little boy has been forcibly taken from them to fight a war that is not theirs. This little boy however is still too small to hold a machine gun, so instead, his weapon is a whistle. He is given a whistle and put on the very front line. That’s right, you heard me. Think of a kindergartner, or even worse, do as I did and think of my Finnigan, given a whistle and told to walk at the head of the line and blow it as loud as he can to “frighten” the enemy and then…be a shield. Use that little body to take a spray of bullets, to be the first line of defense. Don’t think about running the other way, or you will be shot from behind by your own army. That’s what they are doing, that’s what is happening in the Congo even as I type these words.

I was trying to figure out what the pendent is that Skrillex wears around his neck all the time. After an hour of searching for a photo with a good close up I realized it was a whistle. At first I thought it was a dog whistle, but after a short Google search it lead me to an interview he did where he mentioned his support of this, Falling Whistles. I went from planning my Halloween costume and sitting in my cozy, safe living room to crying at the loss of thousands of mothers in Africa. I cried over the unspeakable acts they are committing, and have been for years. How foolish I have been. Please, please, please, take a minute to go to the Falling Whistles website, read their story, and if there is any way possible, please purchase a whistle and become a whistleblower for peace.


Funk

October 14, 2011

I’ve been in a funk lately. Generally hating my life. Hating being poor. Hating the necessity of being polite to people who no longer deserve it. Just generally being fed up with being Mary Freaking Sunshine every minute of the day. I’m in a foul mood.