I'm 11 days post-surgery with a total left-knee replacement. And one of the many epiphanies I've had today is that I'm bored. I am so tired of feeling like I wish I felt different! I wish I had less pain, I wish I were high as a kite and knocked out on oxy because it hurts less. I wish I could just take enough ibuprofen and tylenol to keep a steady pain relief base, but they make me nauseated and light headed and fuck with my stomach. Oops. I tried to type "mess with my stomach" and look what happened. I think that is because of the underlying rage. Is the rage from the pain or from the pain relief? Or from the cabin fever? Or the frustration that I can't move freely to take care of my little farm the way I want to?! Maybe the rage is a thinly veiled cover for Frustration. On a primal level. I have let out more primal screams today than I have in the entire time I have known what that means or that it has healing qualities.
As I sit here, thinking about my constant rage against the machine, rage against biology, rage against my genes; I think about how I've always said that I'm not the fuck up. I can admit that I am just a little too honest, and too authentic and too.... well, I don't know, too..... me. But I'm not THE fuck up.
Today I feel my spirit collapse in upon itself and I give in. I am the family fuck up. What do you know? Why fight it? My mom, my sister, and even my beloved father who forever lives on this daddy's girl pedestal, knew I was the fuck up. And what we project onto our kids, they become. So why fight it. I'm tired. I'm 53, almost 54, and I've been pushing back for a lonnnnng fucking time. But today as I weigh the many, many failures in my life, I realize, I AM the fuck up. It's me. Hellooooo! Over here. It's me. I'm the one.
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| click for photo credit/article, not my photo. |
What's the one thing we want credit for? As women, as humans, as individuals? I mean, I guess I don't actually know what "we" want credit for. But I do know I'm not the only Mom who says, "I am a good Mom" and fight for the "good mom" title and recognition. Today, as a general rule, I care if I am a good human being or not. And I used to think I made a difference. A difference for kids. I taught them and loved them and encouraged them. But a) I don't do that anymore and b) I no longer believe I made a positive impact. So see? I really am just THE fuck up. I want to say my kids are strong, independent human beings because of the great mom I was. But there's a wealth of evidence that in spite of years upon years of crying wolf, I really fucked up motherhood. Maybe that scared little addict who gave her first child up for adoption was right. I come from a long line of fuck ups and am not capable of bucking the system long enough to make a real difference in the lives of the little ones I brought into this world.
Maybe if the pain (the physical pain) ever recedes far enough and long enough, I'll become a good farmer. Because today, my lack of judgement left me with an unattended terrier, an animal that thrills in the kill, and two less chickens, and one missing duck. One less 'possum in this world, but also fewer of the creatures I was charged with caring for. Sacrificed because of my short-sightedness (and pain).
For now, I have one more pain-killer in my medications. It will be saved to hopefully help me sleep. I have this day to collapse in upon myself. And to pray that the light of the day tomorrow will bring me hope. And a different perspective. Oh please dear God, let today be the end of giving in to "the fuck up."
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