I have very limited time for things like this anymore, and it’s a shame really because there are so many funny and sweet things to remember about my amazing life. My boys. They do and say things so adorable so often that another thing happens before I could write the first one down. These moments trickle through my sieve-like brain these days and only hours have to pass before I forget them entirely. I try to soak up the time spent with both of my boys before bedtime, staring at their eyelashes longingly while Simon tells me how much he hates school and waking up in the morning. Or I’ll tussle his George’s curls while he yells “YOU SKIPPED A PAGE!” as I’m telling him a story in the dark, not reading a book. He insists that I’m not telling him the parts of the story he wants to hear. But after all, I am not a mind reader.
But I am a lot of other things.
These days I am a listener. I am a reader of news and information. I am a phone caller. I am a marcher for rights. I am an advocate for children whose caregivers are not privileged enough to advocate for their own kids. I am a consultant. I am a wife. I am a friend. I am a librarian. I am a mom. I am a sister. I am a daughter. I am the cause of the dent in the right hand corner of our worn out couch. I am a bed-maker of three beds. Every morning. I am a cook. I am a planner. I am a PTO volunteer. I am a Friends of the Library member. I am an event coordinator. I am an advocate against gun violence and for common sense gun reform. I am an Ohioan. I AM a patriot. I am an Ohio State fan.I am a lifelong student and learner. I am a Grandview community member and tax payer. I am a reluctant runner. I am a recovering reader. I am a boo-boo kisser and allergy medicine distributor. I am a coordinator and organizer. I am a cheerleader. I am a supporter. I am a connector. I am a walker. I am a thinker. I am a problem solver.
I am also tired.
I am exhausted. I am fired up, ready to go. I am sleep-walking at 5am to the gym. I am pushed out of my bed at 4am most mornings by a 3 year old who must share my pillow or feel me near him between the hours of midnight at 4am. I am buzzing with a feeling of anxiety masked as excitement or busyness.
I am easily tipped over into a rage spiral brought on by even the smallest injustices because life is just
not fair not fair not fair not fair not fair not fair…for most people
And life has been too fair, too generous, too everything for ME.
I am not enraged because MY rights or MY life is at stake in the political narcissistic consumerism throw-away culture/climate of this country. My skin is on fire right now because of people who are NOT as lucky as I am to be white, middle class, educated and healthy.. This is not about me. No no no.
And my mom said to me, “the world will always be unjust”
And that’s true, it’s true and I think about it all the time. But I do not want to exist in a world where I am complicit in the systemic oppression of others.
So some weeks I don’t go to the rallies or the meetings. Some days I cannot read it all or take it all in or listen to the things I know I should. Last week I skipped three important meetings that I had on every calendar I keep, on my phone, my computer and wall…
I just couldn’t do it. I need to stare into the void and recollect my thoughts and find myself after one morning I made it to work and texted my husband “Something is wrong with me. I don’t feel right.”
He knew. He can see the stress rash I’m constantly itching and he knows that I’m tired when I stumble to get my shoes in the morning and when I crawl into bed at night well before him. He knows something is not right.
But he knows I can not stop caring and working. He hugs me and gives me the look because he knows. We try to laugh together about things but we are both just so fucking sad and fed up at the greed in this world. We will be fine, we say. We know. It’s not US who will come out of this in trouble. It’s our kids. It’s the people we see every day already struggling. We’ll make it out ok.
In the meantime I guess this is my new normal for the next four years? I’ll spend my time stomping and yelling and listening and learning and trying and pedaling as fast as I can so that somebody anybody will listen and learn or change or for chrissakes CARE about anyone but themselves. <shrug>
I just hope that eventually it all matters, all of this work and learning and awareness…because all of it matters so much to me.
I owe my baby boy a Birthday Letter.
I will get to it eventually– but for now, that felt good.
OH, I forgot one.
I used to be a writer, too.