January 25, 2012

Faker


I think I’m just a big FAKER.  In fact, I know I am.  Today I had a day in which I wasn’t Superwoman at all. I brought the big darling to school and once we got home I realized I just didn’t have the energy to make two more lunches, brush teeth, dress them, dress myself, run around finding shoes, lunchboxes, etc. so I just gave up and kept the little ones home.  We were snuggled up in pjs watching cartoons and I was thinking what a faker I was when everything went really quiet.  TVs went off, appliances stopped humming, and suddenly I felt sick to my stomach.  I ran to the front door knowing full well I would see an Entergy truck there.  Why?  Because I’m a faker. 

Yesterday while opening weeks old mail (see, I’m not KIDDING when I say I have an aversion to paperwork and have become the Queen of Avoidance) I opened a DISCONNECT notice.  I have no clue what the fuck I did or didn’t do, but I noticed the day for disconnect was days ago, and I still had power, so it must be some mistake.  Faker.  I hopped online to schedule a payment to go through yesterday.  Apparently, probably because I am a faker, something went awry.  Funny how as I was entering my checking account numbers, I was ignoring a strong feeling that I should actually VERIFY the numbers during the part where they instructed me to VERIFY the numbers.  I’m a faker pretending to be Superwoman so I didn’t.  And this is why this morning I found myself running towards this Entergy truck, barefoot and in my pjs, teeth not brushed, white dots of pimple medicine on my face, and hair looking like I washed it with grease a week ago.  “I paid it yesterday” I’m calling out.  I see immediately he.does.NOT.care and he is not impressed with my cute Victorias Secret pajamas.  Surely he gets screamed at by psychos in rollers all day claiming the same thing.  So I yell, c’mon, does it really look like I can’t afford to pay my bill? He won’t even roll.down.his WINDOW.  I don’t know, he may have read where I’m looking to actually shoot robbers.  And then, because I’m desperate and can’t handle a lick of stress, I scream, “My husband just killed himself and I have 3 kids!”  Now, REALLY, who says thaaaat?!  As the words came out, and I wondered what neighbors were quietly listening behind cars or fences, I realized very quickly and strongly and powerfully that I am just a faker.  I’m not superwoman at all.  I’m not ‘handling it’.  I suck at this.  All of it.  A lot of times, I feel like I hate my life.  I hate it even more when other people imply they hate theirs… because I realize I have SO MANY REASONS that are so WAY WORSE to HATE IT.  So I’m just a big FAKER.  And apparently I’m a good one.  Because people keep saying how strong I am, how great I look, how well I’m doing, how happy the kids seem.  Even though really there is no way in hell any of this is OK!!!  So I come inside, to my two adorable, wide-eyed kids, who are peering out the window in dirty pajamas wondering why I’m barefoot in the front yard screaming at someone, and I just layed down and cried.  No sense in doing it mildly….I’m tired of being a faker, the gig is up now so I rip at my clothes and hair and roll around and just GET.IT.OUT.  I hate HIM.  I hate HIM SO MUCH.  HIM…WHO FUCKING DID THIS TO ME!!! HIM…WHOSE FUCKING FAULT IT IS THAT I AM A BIG FAT FUCKING LAZY AVOIDING FAKER.  It felt good to cry loud and to hate him, even though my preferred method is to actually scream out the hateful thoughts.  I couldn’t because of them.  They stood there and just looked at me.  They’ve seen it before…surely they’ll see it again.  They hugged me and told me they loved me.  I smiled and said I loved them too.  I told them we had no power, we couldn’t watch tv or even open the fridge for a tiny second or all the food would be ruined.  I paid my bill again by phone and immediately began searching for anything good.  1.) I felt calm and I felt better.  2.) Its neither hot nor cold and no heat/ac was needed.  3.) The house was so quiet.   4.) I had a long hot bath last night.  5.) My kids were playing together nicely and not watching tv.  6.) I have a gas stove and could still cook .  So I got dressed, washed my face in cold water, thought about how some people have no water, and we went outside to play.  I smoked my mom’s cigarette butts while they rode their bikes.  We came in for lunch and while I was cooking the hotdogs , mac and cheese and vegetables, the power came back on.  Darn!  I was actually enjoying the quiet.


1 comment:

  1. Not fake in the slightest! Just coping with what you can, when you can.... sometimes doable, and sometimes not.

    Being strong isn't about always being able to do what you think you should do. It's being willing and/or able to to face the hard things (or the easy things that can be so difficult), even (especially) after you've crumpled, whether it takes minutes, weeks, or years. It takes more strength to 'get back up and try again' than to never fall down in the first place.

    You rock lady!

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