Keep Your Penny, These Thoughts Are Free

I am not the best mother in the world and I don’t pretend to be. Most days I fall very short of being a great mother. I don’t say this to get sympathy or for people to tell me that I’m wrong. I say this because it’s a fact, a fact I can admit easily. At best, I’m a good mother and some days that’s even a stretch. But every day, good or bad, I do the best that I can. I might be a better wife than I am a mother but even that’s debatable. I have my faults and there are times I wonder how my husband deals with me but nobody is perfect and we choose the people we choose, for better or for worse. Again, I do the best that I can every day, which is all I can do. I’d like to think I’m a good daughter, a good sister (not as good as my own), a good niece, cousin and aunt. But what I can absolutely say I thrive at is being a friend. Now, I’m not trying to brag, or inflate my own ego, or act like I’m the greatest, but being a good friend is the one thing I can be proud of, it’s the one thing I know I’m really good at. The problem with that is, I give so much more than I get from some people.

This is purely a venting post; I’m not going to try to hide that. I’ve felt certain ways for a long time and these things tend to resurface every now and then. Many times, I have thought about writing it down and putting it out there but I always stopped myself. Mainly because I didn’t want to say certain things or piss people off by what I did say. But I think I’ve gotten to the point where I just don’t give a shit anymore. If someone reads this and thinks it’s about them then they’re probably right. My theory has always been this. If I write the statement ‘people are assholes’ and someone thinks I’m writing about them that’s probably because they did something to me or someone else that makes them look like an asshole. That’s their own guilt eating at them for something they did or said, and that’s not on me. My statement is vague, it doesn’t call any one person out, but if the shoe fits, then wear it. Same thing goes for this post. I’m not talking about one person in my life, sadly a few people come to mind. Now, I think I know who reads my blog and who doesn’t. And the people that do will know that this isn’t about them. It’s for the people that don’t read my posts. Ironic and funny? Probably, but not in a rolling on the floor laughing kind of way. Proves a point? Absolutely.

I think some of these feelings have been bubbling in me for a long time and over the past few weeks they started boiling. And the other day I just exploded and started venting to my husband after getting another text that pissed me off. So, I got all crazy in the car and he just listened as he drove, saying the appropriate things to calm me down. But he knew that I was upset. I feel bad that he’s the one who always gets this side of me, but that’s what he signed up for 25 years ago. I feel that maybe if I channel my inner Elsa and let it go on paper it will help to shed some of this weight I carry around.

What pissed me off about the text was that someone was asking me something about a subject I know we had a conversation about recently. I am so sure about this conversation that I can sit here right now and recite it word for word, but I won’t. Now, could this person have forgotten what I said? Maybe. But instead of admitting that they blatantly said I never told them anything and that’s bullshit. Maybe they just didn’t hear me. Maybe when I talk, I feel that the other person isn’t listening. Whether I’m on the phone, or in person, whenever I start talking the other person somehow gets distracted. And it’s obvious because I just get a lot of ‘uh-huh’ responses or I catch them glancing at their phone. I’m sorry, am I fucking boring you? Are the words that I say less important than the shit that comes out of your mouth? Must be, because that’s the vibe that some people give off.

I sit there and listen to whoever I’m talking to, I really listen. I give advice when it’s needed, I give my opinion when asked, I’m really invested in what they are saying. But 80% of the time I don’t get the same respect back. Why the fuck not? Do people really think that their life is more important than mine? That their problems are worse than any that I might have? Oh wait, I forgot, I don’t have any problems. I have a husband, a daughter and a house; my life is perfect. There’s no way I could ever be depressed. There’s no reason for me to have anxiety or to not be 100% happy with my life. How dare I even think that? I have nothing to complain about and even if I did, it would be pretty ballsy of me to do so when I have so much. That’s their thinking. So, most of the time they don’t even ask about me because they assume there’s nothing to tell. And I admit that part of that is on me. I don’t open up easily, I don’t want to bother anyone with my issues. But to just assume that I don’t have any, to assume that I’m ok all of the time isn’t fair either.

I’m always the one to check up on everyone. I’m the one texting to see how someone is doing, especially if I realize that I haven’t heard from them in a while. If I randomly think of someone, I take that as a sign to check in with that person and see how they’re doing. A simple text, takes maybe a minute of my time, but sometimes means a lot to the other person. But why is it always up to me to be the better person? Why does no one feel the need to check on me? And I know how whiny that sounds and I’m not sitting here feeling ‘woe is me’, it’s actually sickening to even think that, but sometimes, just sometimes, I want to feel like I matter to people. I want to know that someone is thinking of me for a change. But it goes back to what I previously said, no one thinks I need that. No one thinks that matters to me. Relationships, any relationship, needs two people in order for it to work. And when you’re the one putting in 80% and hardly even getting the other 20% back it gets draining.

I remember everyone‘s birthday, even their kid’s birthdays, and I send texts to all on their special day. I don’t always get it back and it’s understandable if someone forgets mine. But when it’s people who have been in your life for 10, 20 or more years, and they genuinely don’t remember what day it is, then that’s a little hurtful. Especially when there are people who I’ve known for less time who remember every year. If you tell me you’re having surgery, or your parent is sick, or I find out your kid hasn’t been in school I’m definitely checking in to make sure everyone and everything is ok. Do I not deserve the same respect and consideration? Maybe I don’t, who the fuck knows anymore? When my Grandmother died a friend of mine and my sister’s texted us both on the day of the burial just to say she was thinking of us and sending us love. I have known this woman for less than 4 years. I didn’t get that love from people who are supposed to be the closest to me. I think that’s fucked up.

I know that I’m not like other people, I don’t try to be. I can only be me and I know not everyone is the same. Maybe I expect too much from others. Maybe it’s just not in their DNA to be the kind of person to me that I am to them. Maybe that’s just something I have to accept. And I try to be different, try to back off a little, take less shit from people. But then the minute I do they get pissed off. Why am I always the one who has to initiate a get together? After a certain number of tries I start to feel like a needy bitch and I hate that feeling. Why am I always expected to be available when someone needs me, or they want me to come to a party they’re having? How is it right for someone to not call/text/check in for months and then out of the blue they ask you to come for a visit and expect you to go running? And that shit is mostly from family. You don’t care how me, my husband or my daughter are doing for months but then decide you want to see us? It’s finally convenient for us to be a part of your life? Fuck no! That’s one thing I am done with. We are not here for your convenience, especially not my daughter. I have been treated like shit by many people but I will not allow the same thing to happen to my daughter. No fucking way!

I’m so tired of people telling me that they miss me, always saying that we really need to get together, but never making the plans, never taking the steps to do what they say. Without action, words are just words. Stop telling me these things and actually do something about it. Show me you miss me. Maybe I just have to accept that some people say the things they think you want to hear. Some people talk with no intention. Some people mean more to me than I mean to them. Sad, but true. I have an aunt, one of many, who I’m very close to, my sister is too. This aunt loves us and our children to no end. During Covid she would send us texts and tell us the number of days that passed since we saw each other. She would tell us how sad she was. When we finally got to see her after so many months apart, she started to cry as she got closer to our houses. She cried when she saw us and our kids. Now, we don’t let a lot of time go by between visits. As she’s walking out the door from one visit, we are planning the next. She always texts us to see how we’re doing. When my sister and her family were sick, she offered to drive an hour to put food on their doorstep. She is there for us whenever we need her for whatever we need. We know how much she loves us and our kids because, more than anything, she shows us all the time. And I am eternally grateful for her. Other people should really take a lesson from her.

I’m turning 46 soon and I think I’ve gotten to the point where I am emotionally exhausted. Keeping everything in for the sake of everyone else tires my soul. So many times I feel like I’m being taken for granted because people know that I will be there for them no matter what. So, they can toss me aside for a little while and come back to me when they need me again. And I’m aware that I let certain things happen, that it’s my fault. That I should say no more often, I shouldn’t be so available. Growing up my mother would always tell me that I gravitated to the people who needed me the most. And I gave them my all, but in the end, I was always the one who got hurt. This has happened in my life more than once. Old habits die hard, I guess.

After listening to my rant my husband told me I had two choices. I can stop letting these things bother me so much. I can learn not to care and just take things for what they are, see people for who they are and accept it all. I’m not sure I know how to do that completely. I have at least gotten better with some things. And there are things that I don’t tolerate anymore. But to stop caring completely is something I don’t think I can do. His other option was for me to stop being so available to everyone. For me to stop giving more than I get. In essence, he’s saying I should stop being me, so I should change who I am. My response was ‘why should I lower who I am for everyone else? Why can’t people just be better?’. And again, I realize that’s asking for too much.

I refuse to change this part of me, it might be the only part of me that I actually like. I like that I care about people, that I love deeply and fiercely. That the people that are closest to me know that I am there for them for whatever they need and I will always do whatever I can to help them. I want them to know that if everyone else in their life turns their back on them, I will still be here. That, if nothing else, they have at least one person who cares about them and loves them. I am not fake, anyone who knows me knows exactly what they get with me. If I don’t like you, believe me, you’ll know it. And if I love you, you will never question that. There are many things I would like to change about myself but this isn’t one of them. So, I guess my option is to not let it bother me as much, or at least to not let it consume me. I have to lower the expectations I have for some people. I have to accept that this is just how some people are and I can’t change them, they have to do that themselves.

Writing all of this has helped, it always does. I have released these little demons that have lived in my mind and heart for too long. They’re out there in the universe and I don’t regret anything I said here. Hopefully I’ll start feeling lighter. If anyone gets mad at anything I wrote, sorry but I really don’t care. Deal with your own shit and figure out which part really got you mad. I can probably guarantee it’s not me. Can I really get over certain things? Can I really let some of this shit go? It’s easy for me to say yes, I definitely can, but only time will tell if it really happens. I’ll just have to wait and see.