41


I’m turning 41 tomorrow.

I’m starting to hate having birthdays.

And it’s not because of how old I am.  I honestly don’t care about the gray hairs that have been sprouting out of my skull or the wrinkles I’m developing around my eyes.  The southbound direction body parts are starting to take doesn’t really concern me either nor the extra pounds that refuse to come off.  This stuff happens to everybody as they get older.

I’m totally okay with the fact I’m getting older.

What I’m not okay with is where I am after 40 years of life.

Of course, I’m pleased to be mom to my kids.

But, a lot of the time, it feels like having my kids was the only 3 things I did that I didn’t completely screw up.

I’m 41 with two failed marriages.  Still over $15000 in debt to the government in student loans for a degree I failed to get.  And now I sit here with a mental disorder that keeps me from keeping a job or dealing with little things like head lice.

Where I am at 41 is a sad, sad place.

My life is a pathetic venture of watching TV and knitting.  Day in and day out.  I can’t even keep my house in order.

I’m 41 with no skills, no ambition, no life.

What does one do when you’re me?

I know I dreamed about some sort of future when I was young.  But I don’t remember what that was anymore.  I can’t even remember what the point of majoring in psychology was when I went to college – which I crapped out of after two and a half years.

Where do I go from here?

The legacy I’m leaving my children makes me want to puke.

I shudder when I think of what my children may say if people ask them about their mother.

“What does your mother do?”

“Oh, she sits on the couch.”

What does one do when one is me?

I feel like I have failed completely at just being a human being.

I would love to make some resolutions about going forward in my life, but I don’t know where to go.  I look into my future and I see nothing.  I’ve asked myself what I would really like to do with my life.

I have no answer.

I envision my life in 10 years when my youngest moves out of the house.  There I am, sitting on the couch watching TV and knitting.

It’s one of the reasons I don’t see a point in living.  I’ve only got about another 10 years before all my children are gone.  Then there will be just me.  Still metabolizing oxygen into carbon dioxide, but otherwise a 175lb slug.

Where is the point?

I love my children very much, but I feel like I’m useless to them.

I wish I could find some point to my life.

I’m 41 and probably over halfway through my life span.  What do I have to look forward to?  Another 30 years of the same thing I’m doing now?  Why would I want that?  I have no friends (and by friends I mean people I spend more than an hour a week with), no man, no life.

Now I know some would be thinking that I just need to make changes.  But change what?  I live on nothing.  I can’t afford to take classes.  Besides, what classes would I take?  I have no ambitions.  Nothing I greatly desire to do.  I have no talents that are worth anything.

There’s really no point to me being here.  I’m a waste of skin and bone.

I’m 41.

I’d rather 42 never come…then I could at least make room for the next man.

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Geoff


Today my youngest boy turns 16.

I’ve written about him before (click here) but things have changed a lot in 3 years.

He has been in the he-knows-everything-and-his-mother-is-clueless stage for some time now.  He’s entered high school and broken the law; twice.

He’s often in a sullen mood; has spoken of killing himself, quitting school, and not caring about anything in the world.

He’s added several gray hairs to my head.

But he’s also been very helpful.

He’s been talking to me in ways I feared he never would.

He’s maintained some friendships that have lasted since junior high.

Sometimes I’m afraid for him; that his ideas about life will never be based on reality.

Sometimes I’m so proud of him I could burst.

As I’ve said before he is a carbon-copy of me.  I was just one year older than he is now when I left home…which was a quick way for me to enter into reality.  But it was not a good thing either.  I never tried to reach my potential.  I saw no point in it.  Instead I settled for marriage(s) and child-raising.  Not that those are bad things, I love my children dearly, but there’s so much I could have done with my intellect and creativity.

I’ve been trying so hard to teach him to not do as I did.  That there’s so much he could do with his life; his possibilities are virtually limitless.

Sometimes I don’t think I’ve done enough for him.

And I don’t know what else I can do.

All I can do is make sure he knows how much I love him and give him as much support as I can, and leave him in God’s hands

I wish that felt like it was enough.

But anyway,

Grade 9 grad June 2013

Grade 9 grad June 2013

Happy 16th birthday, Geoff.  I love you so much.

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2013 in review


The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,300 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 22 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Crashing part 2


Crashing part 2.

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crashing


crashing.

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Block writer


I call myself a writer, though I probably shouldn’t.  I don’t get paid to write.  No one’s “read me”, as far as I know.

But since writing is the only form of expression I have that I can actually express myself through, I call myself a writer.  I have been doing it all my life, too.  So, yes, I will call myself a writer.

The thing is, right now I can’t write.  It’s not writer’s block, because I’m not stuck in the middle of writing project.

So I’m calling it block writer.  I need to write.  I have the urge in my chest to express something and it keeps getting stronger.

The problem is, I have nothing to write about.  No muse is striking me.  It’s like being constipated; you just gotta take a dump, but it just won’t come…

Okay, sorry for the gross analogy, but it’s kind of what it feels like to me.  Stuffed full and no way to unstuff.

So I’ve got a block.  Now, how to unblock is the question.  Why am I so blocked is the other question.

I wonder if Walmart carries mental fiber?

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Starving


Starving.

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