So during this argument, he mentioned wanting to take the burdens off of our children. The burdens of not being able to have certain things, of not wanting to ask for a few dollars for a simple item because they know we will say we can't, the burdens of worrying about the fact that their parents are constantly worried about money even if they don't know all of the details. They know we have a roof over our heads (even if the power gets shut off or the furnace is not working), food in the cupboard (even though it is not what they would pick from the shelves) and clothes on their backs (even if the only two pair of jeans have to be washed every two days). I say they have enough, but maybe he has a point.
When I say maybe, I really mean his point was totally valid and hit me like a ton of bricks.
And as I lay under the covers for the next few hours, eyes closed tightly, wishing the world away, I laid there and realized how utterly selfish I have been. Again. Wallowing in my worries, my depression, my fears. Even their own burdens, as a mother and wife, I have made them mine and that is selfish. I have focused on what I can't do, on what I need to do, on what I can figure out to do to help us me out of this mess.
Bear with me. Yes, of course a good mother makes her child's burden her own. A good wife will do the same for her husband. But it's what we do with that burden that makes the difference. Do we try to make it better for them, or do we simply stack on our own plates, furthering our inability to cope and move forward in progress?
So I asked myself a question, still laying there in bed. "What can I do for my family today?" It seemed like a foreign language. Sure, I do things for my family each day. But I realized (again) that I was doing the bare minimum. Cook. Clean. (or not) Drive. But none of that was really for them, that was for me. If I don't cook, my kids will not eat and therefore they will be hungry and I will be a bad mother. It came back to me. Me, me, me. If I don't do this load of laundry, the kids will have to wear shorts instead of pants and I will feel bad. I, I, I.
Is this depression? Really? Is this the first time I have fully realized how very little we are capable of giving to our precious, loved and cherished dear ones? It's like alcoholism or drug addition, really. The inability to focus on anything outside of ourselves.
So I asked myself that question. And I answered it. I got up, showered and dressed and went to fill out a job application. I don't know exactly how or why that was the first thing I felt compelled to do. Obviously, we need a bigger income. But I am not yet sure why it took that epiphany of that morning to finally get me out the door. Perhaps because I don't want to go to work? Truth be told, no I really don't. But the reasons why can be worked around. The reasons being the kids themselves. I have two kids who are, for lack of a better term, high needs. No intense hands on sort of needs, but they definitely require me presence, especially in the after school hours. So while I am basing my lack of desire to work around a real and important cause, the bigger picture is that we will all benefit from added income, and their schedules can be worked around so that I can be here for them when they need me. So instead of sitting around not looking for a job because it would be too much of a burden for me to stress over not being here for them, I decided to go out and get a job, for them.
Are you following me here? It's a simple notion, the differences I describe are subtle, but they are there. When I do something, who I am doing it for can take it from insignificant to monumental. And maybe all of this is a no-brainer to you, maybe you are wondering what in the world took me so long to realize what most of us realize already. Well, something in the world did delay me. But better late than never, I suppose.
Later that afternoon, I heard a remark my son made to his sister during a conversation they were having. He said "It's like saying 'excuse the mess', you just get used to it." Ouch. He has friends over more and more often, one in particular whose mother keeps a very tidy home. I have never heard him say "excuse the mess", but the comment came from somewhere. Never mind that my kids are old enough to clean up after themselves, but that's another story and is not relevant to what the comment meant to me. I have focused on the mess they leave me each day. And though this is a valid complaint (and will be rectified!) it was still all. about. me. Instead of making it their problem (which it is) I made it mine and, yep, you guessed it, added it as fuel to my self-pity bonfire. Martyr, much? So yesterday, my kids came home to a clean home with stacks of clean laundry to put away and scented candles burning. Yesterday, I asked "What can I do for my family today?", and that was my answer. Clean their home. And would you believe, I was in a great mood last evening. I had more energy than usual. I was happy.
I have prayed many prayers in recent months. I have tried and tried to be still and listen to God. It's not easy. When I am looking at an immediate crisis or mess, when I am feeling so desperately sad and useless, I don't want to be still. I want a solution. I want a fix. I want to feel better.
I, I, I.
I do want to feel better. I do want to fix things. But I want it for them more. I had forgotten that.
Our argument? Well I eventually came around and agreed with what he wanted to do. Then he changed his mind. So was our argument pointless? Certainly not. It was the rope I needed to grab to begin pulling myself out of my own selfishness.
The prayers? Not in vain either. God has told me over and over again, "forget yourself". I have actually heard it. "Forget yourself."
God was telling me to stop being a fucking dinosaur and get a job. (If you don't get that, I won't explain.) But the point is (as Robert said) to throw childish (or selfish) things aside. "Forget yourself. What can you do for your family today?"
I love them. They are my heart and soul. And if I stop loving them, I stop loving myself.
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