i don’t have a lot of headspace for tackling personal growth, because it’s mostly filled with scheduling logistics, my kids’ contrasting ideas and wishes, my husband’s need for comfort and quiet, work requirements, and an ongoing grocery list. so i’m going to write a few things very informally here, if you don’t mind.
this morning, in my physical journal where i write a log of feelings and then rarely address them again, i described the loss of focus on myself. when precisely does the viewfinder shift slightly? i used to be the only thing at the center, and then there was george.
raised in the midwest with a mother who pandered to her husband’s every whim until she grew too resentful to hold it in, i have seen the outcome of that life choice. resentment seethes from her and every outbreath around my dad is a chore – while he doesn’t understand a thing and follows her around to just to be with her. ugh.
i don’t want that. i never set myself up to do that, precisely. but choices are made while you’re just surviving – living in unexplored parameters – that come of convenience or a lack of understanding. that’s where i am. i remember cleaning because i had energy after sitting dully in a desk all day, because i liked things a certain way. now it’s understood that i do the cleaning. (there’s a lot of help, but it’s framed that way. like i’m failing at my job of cleaning and need “some help.”) same with cooking. why, again? no. i’ve tried to explain this, to spread these jobs around, but it ends up falling back on me when ppl are tired, over and over.
i wonder if george feels so much of his life isn’t about him, like the focus drifted and the lens reset slightly off-center and now has set there so long he’s unsure if it’s okay to bring that focus back around? to recenter himself firmly in his life, to follow his own pursuits.
and how much of my life belongs to me anyway? i’ve agreed to this partnership, which i do not regret, and welcomed two kids into it, knowing how that moves the dial. a few years ago i restructured my life to make room for my own things, waking early to write and walk in the wee hours. but it’s not enough. i’m having to do that in order to keep the rest of the ship afloat, and i don’t always want that part to be my job.
i’m feeling powerless and resentful in my life, motivated to change it but unsure how.
Unschool Stories 