Fred and My Homestead of Bitterness

Just when I thought the fog was lifting and I was feeling more organized and in control of my life, I hit a funk.

I am not sure where it came from but all of the sudden, I was so angry. My anger, deep within, outwardly was pointed towards Fred. It all started yesterday afternoon when he decided to work late - AGAIN.

You see, Fred is a wonderful man. I believe he is my soul mate and that we have a special, true love that God has blessed before we even met one another. We adore one another and are completely honest with each other. We have walked hand in hand through all of the challenges during our 15 years together. We "saved" ourselves for our wedding night, we endured a major Roller Blade injury where Fred almost lost his leg in college. We kept strong through my mother's tumultuous visits, my new business start ups, his inner city school teaching and three houses needing new roofs AND new water heaters, a flood, several snow storms, the typical in-law stresses, two pregnancies followed by two births followed by two daughters on the spectrum. And through it all, we prayed with one another. We loved one another. We accepted one another.

Now, today. I struggle with bitterness. I remember hearing a Christian speaker once in college saying that men will struggle the temptations with sexual immorality just as women will struggle with bitterness. It is one of those flaws from the fall that we were just 'programmed' with.

So, they say the first step is admitting it. Here is my confession. Brutal honesty. I am bitter today because, for the first time in a year and a half, I realize that I gave up my career and my dreams. I gave up my chance at being someone important as the world sees it. I gave up my business lunches and the freedom to meet interesting professionals. My power to influence and my Coach bags are in storage now.

I guess I wouldn't mind it so much if I saw others in our family like my husband and his parents who live only 15 minutes away also giving some things up. But no one else has sacrificed anything, only me. More about my feelings and disappointments about my in-laws in later posts... I feel like I have sacrificed it all for my daughters' special needs. Those special needs that apparently I am the only one who recognizes and is forced to deal with them day in and day out. The school professionals all think I am a gook. They don't respect me or recognize my daughter's diagnoses. Even the other mom's remain an arm's distance from me as not to catch my white trash mothering techniques. (Again, I use that phrase "WT" but I don't like to because I don't think God makes trash. I just use it because it is a term that describes judgement and misunderstanding in social classes.)

So, although I try to be the homemaker diva goddess and manager, I am oppressed to be the garbage collector and the punching bag. I am the one who gets the brunt of my first grader's verbal abuse. I know, I am the parent and I shouldn't allow her to scream at me when she comes home from a stressful day at school, but I really don't know how else to handle her moods and behavior other than leaving her alone. The more I try to discipline her as an exchange, the more it turns into a fighting match and her mood excels and spirals really out of control.

Then there is my two year old who gets special services from the state due to her sensory needs. Two days a week an occupation therapist comes to our home to visit. This OT's voice is so high pitched that is sends chills down my spine like nails to a chalk board. Every time she visits Sarah, Sarah screams and throws tantrums. For a two year old with auditory sensitivities, the OT's every word is a train wreck. I see it as clearly as the nose on my face. But then, the OT writes in her report that all of my daughter's outbursts are from behavior alone. And, I have to endure these visits two days a week. These outbursts, I am told by the 'professional', stems from my parenting.

I just take it all in. These thoughts consume me while I try falling asleep at night and while I try to do housework. Housework that my brilliant mind was not created to do! There has got to be something more interesting than trying to create neat lines in the carpet while I vaccum. And, by the way, I hate carpet. It is so country and suburb like! I am a freakin' hardwood floor city girl. I am supposed to have a cleaning lady that I complain about during my lunch dates in Greektown! Boo hoo. Those were the days. I miss them!

I continue to grieve my life of broken dreams, all while my husband works. Did you know that he leaves the house before we all wake up? He gets a fresh day on his work load. He is climbing his career bent ladder to the top being recognized for his achievements as he works 60 hour work weeks and gets paid peanuts as a private school teacher. He claims that he is working to earn more of a salary. I claim he is working to keep from being part of our circus acts in the home. He has to work dorm duty tonight, Friday night. Another evening that I stay home, alone, with the girls. I used to be social. I thrive when I am networking and making things happen. But, in the home I sit. Waiting. No improvement. Little to no action other than outbursts and anger.

And bitterness.

Feel free to comment how you want - just don't nag at me. Don't tell me there are worst situations out there. I know that I should count my f'ing blessings but right now, I am bitter. Your 'encouragement' won't help. I will come out of my funk in a few minutes. Planning to take my youngest apple picking. If we can do it without a tantrum - PTL. If there is a tantrum however, oh well it will give me something interesting to blog about!

Toodles Blawgers.