direction?
February 06, 2007 at 7:16 p.m.
I�m a little shell-shocked today. I hadn�t planned on vomiting my innermost angst quite so fully yesterday, but I couldn�t have foreseen the outpouring of love, advice and well-meaning smacks to the noggin that I received from people from my virtual and literal realities. Thank you, thank you for hearing me. I can�t tell you the peace I feel just from the knowledge that I�m understood somehow, and at the same time, am chastised just enough to help me to not get too attached to my gala-level pity party.
So down at the heart of my present situation, is the fact that I have nothing I want to do with my life anymore. I�ve run to touch the few goalposts I had planned, and now I�m looking at unfamiliar terrain with trepidation and a quickly depleting supply of anti-anxiety medication.
Holy crap, how does someone get to the point where they have reached their life goals at the ripe old age of 27? It�s not that I have low standards, it�s mostly that once I realized my big hopes were probably out of the running (President of the World, The Best/Coolest/Richest Rock Star in the Universe, Oscar-winning actress, Mrs. Rowan Atkinson (yes, I had/have a crush on Mr. Bean), Disney Princess, etc.), I set my sights on collegiate life.
Really, I�m a pretty crummy violinist if you ranked me up there with other players who have master�s degrees, but I didn�t have the goal to be Seriously Awesome Orchestra-Level Girl. I wanted to play so much more � jazz, rock, fiddle, whatever alternative style I could get my ears on. No, I didn�t know what exactly I�d do with my knowledge, but it made me happy and therefore, I did it.
I certainly didn�t do it to get hired teaching high school orchestra. Holy crap, that was one insane year! But out of the midst of it, I got married and found an unlikely outlet � a celtic band that wanted me to play with them.
Had the world on a string I did. I got to perform, friends to play with and make me happy, even a CD and touring!
And then, BAM, pregnant.
BAM, husband laid off.
BAM, new job in Brasil.
BAM, say goodbye to snug dream life, have one viewing of a 20 year old Lamaze DVD and
BAM, I�m screaming out �marido!!� in a Brasilian hospital while going unmedicated through hard labor with 6 nurses and doctors in the room who speak nothing but Portuguese and who won�t allow my husband in the room, no matter how hard I scream for him, in Portuguese, no less.
BAM, he�s back to work and I�m alone at home with a baby.
Very alone.
It�s still hard to breathe, sometimes. How am I supposed to come up with new goals when I can�t get her to stop crying?
One thing I guess I�ve forgotten in this mess is myself. Who I worked hard to be, and who I worked hard to like. Of course it was all conditional on the fact that I had a flat stomach and played in a band� and both of those things are temporarily suspended in my present WHAT THE FREAK situation.
I don�t know what I want to do. I guess I�ll move back to America and teach violin again. I do like it, but it�s stressful at times, and I feel bad for the holes I have in my teaching technique (no vibrato� heck I can barely do it myself!). I really feel uncomfortable with the stay-at-home mom thing��.. not that there�s any job I could do or would want to do all day, but I want to be a contributing member of our household bank account. I like feeling useful, and getting peed on (twice today! it�s like she WAITS for me to open the diaper up!) just doesn�t make me feel useful. I wish it did, but it doesn�t.
Starting a radio station (bad idea, it would be ALL Journey, ALL the time), volunteering, trying to make friends to spend time with when I get home, I feel like a fraud. Like I�m this socialite with the luxury to pick my pet causes and appointments to make the hours of the day go by faster. Aren�t I supposed to put in hours and work??
I don�t want to be some suburbanite with a minivan , in khakis, white and semi-chub (well, I can�t help that white part, but I could try and get a tan). Holy crap, am I going to turn into THIS stereotype??
I don't want those pants. I really don't!! Who do I WANT to be??
The point of all this is it to say thank you. Thanks for really listening, I�ll figure this out eventually.
I pray every day to love her, to love being a mom. And I promise do I play with her, smile at her, sing to her, and nibble her toes until she giggles. I try to be myself, but it can be an act sometimes. She doesn�t notice yet, and I love that about her. It doesn�t matter if I�m smiling or smiling through my tears, she smiles back just the same.
SUPERCRACK will get there. Eventually.