Maybe We Should Go Back

Summer days, driftin' away

I haven't written in about a month. Things at work did not end on a good note. At all. I have a job for next year, but my future at this school is something I'm having to think about a lot. It's caused a lot of depression over the last few weeks. Specifically, I've been thinking about whether or not I should be there or if it's even a healthy environment for someone with anxiety to the extent that I experience it. They fired my friend for a very stupid and made up reason, and that not only makes me nervous but makes me lose respect for a place. I'm thinking it might be my last year at this school. I love the school but there is something seriously wrong with my principal and the way she views the world. My deepest wish is that she would leave. I've had bad bosses before but it was always in my best interest to wait them out, but I don't have history with this place and I owe no loyalties to it, so waiting her out might not be the best option this time.

Health wise things are a bit better. I have not barfed since that apocalyptic incident in the car I described last entry. I do know something is wrong, but it's not on my mind if I'm not having symptoms. I just have too much else going on. My weight has remained steady and I haven't lost anymore pounds. I've neglected my health though. I don't know how to take care of myself and also the kids. The kids always come before me now, and it's starting to show up physically for me. Example: I have a tooth that lost a filling almost a year ago that I've just been dealing with because I can't afford a crown and I live in America (need I even say more these days?). It hurts, it's sensitive, but I ignore. Yet if it was the kids? Nothing would stop me from getting them a crown. Likewise, if my kids were randomly barfing for no reason, you bet your ass I'd be pounding down the doctor's door 'till I get a diagnosis and treatment plan. But because it's me, it's less important.

I used to be really conscious of everything happening in my body. I even used to be a hypochondriac! Now? Couldn't care less. No, that's not true. I do care what happens to me, but only because of how it would affect my kids. Once again, it comes back to them. Is this how it is? As a mother, is this normal? Or am I just on a self-destructive kick? I've got to find a balance either way, but I'm wondering if other moms feel like they have completely disappeared even to themselves?

Judging from a quick Google search, yes. Yes they do. That is all.

I'm spending the entire summer at home each day with both kids. Week 1 was great. We had a schedule for school review, playing outside, crafts, naps and errands. By week 2, the schedule was a distant memory. Now each day is less like a charcuterie board of fun and more like a soup of stupid, shocking shenanigans. It was easy to romanticize my kids' virtues when we spent roughly 4 hours a day together, but now I'm noticing some disturbing trends. There's a lot of fighting and refusals to share toys. My little princess is in her slapping phase. They are hungry all day. Literally all damn day. I had no idea a 20 pound human could eat this many goddamn graham crackers.

Now don't get me wrong, it's also been fun being with the kids all day. I just know I need time to myself, and I need it desperately, and I'm just not getting it or going to get it. My family comes into town this week, and as happy as I am to see them, it's also just more stuff I need to do and more secrets I have to keep. None of them know about my de-conversion or the fact that I'm no longer a Christian, and trying to keep that part of me silent, when it has become such a HUGE focal point in my therapy appointments and trauma recovery, is not only hard, but it also feels completely fake and disingenuous. I definitely don't have the mental energy to unpack all of the things I need to say about this topic, but I'll leave it with this: last summer was the beginning, when I finally admitted to myself I am not a Christian anymore, and I remember the weight of it being lifted from my shoulders and I just wanted to celebrate, which I did. Last summer was like a trip to a mental amusement park for me- so much fun and freedom. This summer, I feel like it's time to get really deep with this and figure out what life needs to look like going forward from here. Not necessarily what do I believe now, because I have already discussed that in other entries, but more so how can I approach this subject with my kids? They have deeply religious people surrounding them. I am the only one who isn't. Just me. So far this hasn't been an issue. We stopped going to church when Covid hit and we never went back. But what if my husband decides he wants to? I am absolutely morally opposed to sending my kids into a church. I absolutely refuse for them to be taught the weird bullshit I was taught. It messed me up so thoroughly I can only imagine what it would do to their developing minds. So how do we handle that? And so many other things? Or do I just shut my mouth and live like a fake person my whole life to keep the peace between everyone? And how the hell is that fair to me? Shouldn't I have a voice? Don't I matter just as much as everyone else? These thoughts play on repeat when this subject comes up. Writing about it helps though, so I expect I'll be exploring this more next entry. Bye for now!