Didn't we all have dreams of grandure growing up. We knew we were going to do great things with our lives. I laid in bed thinking about my life. I suddenly felt disappointed in my accomplishments. So as the kids lay asleep, I lay crying about the life I thought I lost.
Days later I realized why I was crying. Why it hurt me so much feel like I have more do with my life. Different dramatic events had taken place that had exhausted me emotionally. I don't vent to anyone except my laptop and I was so upset that I couldn't get out a single word let alone string together a sentence or two. There were a shit-load of things that needed to be done around the house. I was freaking broke and my significant other was doing his usual complaining about this and that and the kids seemed to need everything all at once and.... I was ready to explode!
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
This is the short story of the realization I have come to: As a Black woman, a teen mom, an unwed mother, somebody's girlfriend-not wife and a self-repressed writer, there aren't many options I gave myself. I could blame society, sure. Racism, sexism, but I'm more than qualified for any job I apply for but at the tender age of 28 (plus 2-almost 3). I find myself, again, reevaluating my career move. Sure I make a decent living in a promising industry but failing to complete college as planned has left me holding the short straw when it comes to looking for a new job. That's my fault.
I choose to stay with a guy for over 11 years and allow the relationship to exist with no final destination of marriage in the travel plans. I'm hurt when I'm treated like the girlfriend despite assuming the role of wife. I didn't let him get the milk for free, I freely handed over the whole damn cow. That's my fault.
As a adolescent I indulged in a relationship with a controlling, manipulative person and despite getting out of an abusive relationship with my daughter in hand, it still haunts me. Control and manipulation is sill poising my life as he does this through my daughter and the court system and my emotional link to the pain of what I failed to provide for my daughter. While I can't control the actions of an idiotic man, I can control my reaction and it's effect on my life. I have not and that's my fault.
There are 24 hours in a day and that's not nearly enough time to do all the things that need to be done to run a home and devote a decent slot of time to writing. No matter how many different techniques and schedules I employ, I can't squeeze anymore hours out of the day. I tell myself I write just write on the weekends, then that's bumped for this or that. I will write for an hour in the mornings and then I'm running late each day. I will write at night, but there is no place to sit void of everyone else's mess and it's loud and after everyone is sleep I fall asleep in whatever spot I'm in because I'm so damn exhausted. Other writers can do. Other writers have the same 24 hours I do-so why can't I seem to get it done? The fact that I can't is my fault.
I had plenty of chances for success and many more stumbles and failures and this is what I needed to stand naked in front of and stare at. I did not make the most of every opportunity I was given. I didn't make the most of each day I was living. I fucked up-and the sight of it was so painful that I couldn't get out of bed for nearly the whole weekend.
Of course there are things I was proud of that I've accomplished. But there are even more things I'm regretful of, ashamed of (one being starting this sentence with 'but'-I am resisting not deleting it but then I'm going to delete the whole blog post because I will rethink putting this out into the universe and then I will regret not having done so because I really have needed to get this out of my system). I don't like to show this side of myself or admit it exists-I'm the tough lil' chick-but the feel is deep ya'll. Bone deep.
What do you do when you feel you aren't good enough? Like you don't measure up as an adult.
I tell my daughter that we are all work in progress and as long as there is life left in you there is life left to be better and accomplish more. I have been telling myself that a lot lately. Time to be the woman I aspired to be. There is still time to write the things I made excuses not to write. Time to finish college-change careers. Do the things I love doing so well that others can't take their eyes off me and wait for the tangible rewards to follow as a result (Maya Angelou). It's hard to decide what to do when you grow up when you feel like you've wasted so much of your grown up years waiting on life to begin. It's hard to let go of the life you thought you'd have and embrace the one you have been avoiding.
That weekend I mourned that life I thought I was supposed to have-the woman I thought I was supposed to be. I should have mourned her longer but the kids needed to be fed and the laundry needed to be done and they didn't care that I wasn't what I wanted to be-all they cared about was that I am there for them when it matters the most. Right now...
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