Friday, July 10, 2009

Sitting Here

I'm feeling rather grumpy today, mostly due to a cumulative lack of sleep (wake up at 1:30 and Seth is between Tom and I in bed. Wake up at 3:30 and Benjamin is next to me, next to Seth, who is between Tom and I in bed). But also because I've just read Jen Lemen's latest post and I wonder what the hell I'm doing with my life (I think she may have this effect on a lot of people). About once a month, or so, I have this routine- where I sit back and feel like my life is completely insignificant and that I've now wasted almost thirty-nine years barely scratching the surface of my own potential, my destiny. Jen Lemen, whom I wiled away hundreds of hours with several years ago, is in Rwanda rescuing tribes of refugees or something and I'm just trying to get through the end of my days with clean teeth (showers have now become optional). People, like my friend Judy Albenzi, say- "You are doing what you are SUPPOSED to be doing right now- mothering the children you brought into the world." Then there's my twenty-four year-old guitar teacher, Pat, with the most remarkable yet simple words, imploring me to get a grip- "what could be more important than raising your four children- REALLY, JUDY, WHAT?" and I have nothing to say in response, except, "I don't know." And I don't know- I know that I've dreamed this dream for a lifetime and it is my struggle with contentedness that keeps me from realizing that I'm here- that I've made it. I know, deep down, that my life, as it stands, today, is all that I ever wanted and so much more. And I think about Mother Theresa's most famous quote "Do no great things, only small things with great love." But I've never dreamed small- I've never looked up to the heavens and wished for small- like the winter carnival at my elementary school when they raffled off the six foot tall stocking full of presents- I wanted that thing so bad I was doing ten Hail Mary's in the caferia, eyeballs praying while boring holes through the thick red felt which curved itself into a toe big enough to fit over the foot of a T-Rex. And just like with the stocking, which I did not win, I reach for the stars and always land, flat on my back, in the meadows of my reality, which are painstakingly normal and lackluster. This recurring nightmare, that I'll wake up at fifty and have nothing to show for my efforts, is here, in my leather chair in the living room, keeping me company, and I feel stuck.

2 comments:

Rachel said...

Geez, girl. Fuck that Jen Lemen. I mean, her art is pretty darn fabulous and I plan to buy me some of it pretty soon. But still, the heck with her and her world-saving ways. Why can't she be rescuing American kids, huh? *SNARK*

Her karma is her karma. Your karma is your karma. You chose this life for yourself, didn't you?

But okay. Actually, I often feel trapped by all my blessings too. Especially my kids. I love them but sometimes I hate them too. Parenthood is a tough gig.

We will just have to put off saving the world until about 10 or 15 years from now, I guess.

Judy said...

I can always count on you for some true soulsister validation. :) The grass is always greener right?

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Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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