Feeling Good, Doing Good = Bad Sh** Coming

I should really just expect it by now. Any time I’ve had a good day (ie. done anything even remotely for myself) someone is going to dump on it.

Yeah, okay, so I’m having a pity party. I’m kinda ticked off. It doesn’t happen often and I share them even less often … so skim on by if you don’t want to know.

For the final day in the month of November, during NaNoWriMo, I took myself to the last write-in of the month. I’d already finished my 50k word count a few days ago but I have a deadline to meet for another writing project so I wanted to use the distraction free writing zone to get some work done. And it went well.

I’d been stuck on my story line, couldn’t seem to shift it no matter what I did, but somehow being in a room with other writers writing away, got me unstuck. After missing crit group the last two weeks, I really needed the time to veg and get it done. So I was happy happy.

I even went and bought myself a new CD and a new book in celebration. The 70 mile drive home gave me lots of time to jam away and revel in my small success, looking forward to reading before bed.

Only to pick up my husband from his job and find out he’d changed jobs … yet again … because he couldn’t get along with someone else.

Now I don’t talk much about my married life. I don’t complain or moan and groan or wax poetical on the subject. It is what it is … good, bad, or otherwise. Marriage is always a two-way street and sometimes commitment means putting up with crap and taking the back seat so why complain? It won’t change anything. But after 22 years of marriage, I’m tired of taking the back seat. I’m tired of putting my happiness on hold because someone else can’t be bothered to get along or just do their stupid job without whining all the time.

I put my career on hold … long enough to basically kill it, so I could stay home and raise my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I think raising them is the most important job a parent has … but I sacrificed a LOT to do it and left myself at the whim of my husband’s temperment. From one job to another to another to another with plenty of dead space in between some of them, I’ve sat back and held my tongue, pinched pennies until there was nothing left to pinch, grabbed hold of whatever happiness I could find, made a life out of promises and wishes, kept my kids stable …

And now when I finally have the chance to do something that makes me happy, I’m faced with more of the same uncertain crap I’ve faced for 22 years. I’m so done with it. Over it.

My life is worth more than that.

Is this how all men are? Selfish, arrogant, stubborn? Do they always put their own whims and needs before that of their families? Surely there are some that don’t … somewhere …

I never asked to be rich or famous or have every thing I ever desired. I don’t mind working hard for what I have. I just want someone who’s stable enough to make progress in this world, take steps forward instead of marching in place or falling behind. I don’t need much. I don’t want much.

All I want is to be happy for once … and have it last. Is that too much to ask? Apparently – because every time I find it, it flies out the window …



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