It’s Friday…hello, call me Captain Obvious. I’m welded to my couch and have little interest in separating myself from it.
This is the first day of the week where I haven’t had to rush out the door first thing in the morning. It’s been a busy one with no end in sight.
So many thoughts swirling on this gorgeous early fall day.
I want to homeschool.
I want to homeschool.
I want to homeschool.
Shall I say it again?
I’ll spare you.
We’re barely into the third month of school. I hate it. Every bit of it. Piers lost his binder and doesn’t want to tell his teacher. Said binder basically contains his entire academic life. He’s so smart and kind and hard-working, but he is painfully scattered, unfocused and disorganized…and the worst part is that he’s starting to hate himself. I know the dance too well.
Gil is concerned that I’m trying to save him with this whole homeschooling idea. I AM trying to save him. I’m trying to save him from the shame and humiliation that feels inevitable if he stays at this particular school. Some people understand that tasks that seem easy for many (most perhaps) are beyond difficult for others. Many…do not.
Piers isn’t slack or lazy or defiant. He’s frustrated. He’s tired. He feels like no matter how hard he works or how much he ups his game, he runs into another block. The reality is that he’s doing fine academically. His grades are good…but he IS having a much harder time keeping up with everything this year.
Medication seems to be the only next step if he stays in this school. It’s rigorous. I’m tired of hearing that he can do better. I’m tired of the implications that he’s not living up to his potential. I’m tired of the pressure being put on nine and ten-year-olds to know what they’re going to do for the rest of their lives.
This is the daily grind and I’ve only highlighted one kid for now… Oh there’s more with the other one…
Then there’s the other – the world. It’s dismal. Daunting.
I want more time with people I love. I have felt so far from loved-ones for some time now. I’ve felt like a slave to the blessed school schedule. I’m over it.
And where we live, we have makeup days – not for snow but for hurricanes.
I can’t get jazzed about the elementary art contest or the Boosterthon or any of it frankly. It’s noise. More to do.
I’ve lost hope for the US. We need gun regulation…but evidently the gun lobbyists are in charge.
I want to nest. I want home to be our sanctuary…but I can’t seem to be here long enough to make that happen.
The past reared its ugly head this week. Gil and I are once again stressed about money. Gil can’t communicate with his mother…so we don’t talk to his family much. On one hand I feel bad that they don’t get it…they think we don’t care…we just feel alone with stuff that to me feels like it was thrust on us in the hardest phase of our lives. Pardon my vagueness.
Writing this is forcing me to see that perhaps staying busy is better for my mood.
Let’s talk about the organizer.
She came on Sunday. When she left I felt hopeful… She left me with a lovely, seemingly manageable list.
Today that damn list feels like one more reminder of all the freaking things I can’t do. It’s exasperating. Truly.
I need to give up on “catch up on laundry.” There is no catch up on laundry in this house. Ever. My gosh. I want to throw things.
Deep breaths, Viv. Some days just feel like this. There have been some positives this week.
I’m playing on a women’s tennis league. I’m winning. That’s good I suppose. But…I’m reminded that there are a lot of not-nice people in the world. People who will cheat and be petty and try to take you down simply BECAUSE you’re winning.
I can be naive to some of that. I try to be an encourager; therefore I assume everyone else is the same way.
On Monday I went to my therapist. She recognized that I’m more down than usual. It’s true. She wanted to know what that’s all about.
I’m trying to figure it out.
I’m trying to figure out how to live in a world that can be cut-throat and cruel. I’m trying to open myself up to people who may hurt me.
I want to love that about myself, but for the past year or so… it’s a quality I hate. I want to be tougher. I guess I am… but not really.
I want more understanding.
I want what I give. Don’t get me wrong. I SUCK at the niceties lately. I feel as though I don’t have the money to play the girlfriend game. I’ve felt that way for a long long time. But life is lonely without friends. And I’m fortunate that I have friends – I know who my people are. Still…I just feel like a shitty friend. I feel like what I give is not enough and never will be enough. I have my peeps, but they’re not local. I have acquaintances here. There are a million things to love about Savannah…and I do…but in many ways it’s insular. Two years in…I’m not sure it’s my forever home. I’m still on the fence.
I’m raising children. I love my children, but they’re not easy children and my time is limited. I’m in a phase of life where I need friends who get that.
This is the rambliest post ever. So unpretty. Do y’all remember the nineties TLC song, Unpretty? Yeah…
I’m going to go work on my list.