Post-Holiday Hangover

There have been two times in my life that I can remember thinking about my life. Once, at the very end of my teens when I was pregnant with Mumbles and facing some very big decisions and now, at the beginning of my 30's with my life half lived. When I was at the end of my teens facing the beginning of my adult life and about to become responsible for another, I knew that I had to do some things differently. I couldn't skate by doing the minimum without goals or aspirations. I worked two, sometimes three jobs and went to school, missing out on time I wanted to spend with Mumbles', all the while thinking this would afford us more time together later. "Suck it up and plow through for now so that in a few years, I can get a regular 9 to 5 and make it up to her", I thought. More than 10 years later, I have a regular 9 to 5 except I have to leave at 7:15 to make the commute, to be there by 8 and then half an hour for lunch so I leave at 4:30 but the commute means I won't be home until 5 and then it takes half an hour to unwind because I literally hate every minute of it.


Now I know that some where out there, there's some nit-wit who read Eat Pray Love and is thinking to themselves, "Well if you don't like your life change it. If you hate your job, then quit." That is easier said than done since now I have student loans that have to be paid and a mortgage to make every month, not to mention the car payment, insurance and gas to drive back and forth to what I am convinced is God's way of punishing me for misbehaving from ages 15 to 18. All in search of the American Dream. Hadn't I wanted this? A house, a car, two kids and a fenced yard. I hated staying in apartments to be sure, but at least when I lived in them, I was home to live in them. Some days I go down to the basement, a room that was meant to be a place for us to relax and hang out as a family, and I don't recognize it. Some times I look at Mumbles and I don't recognize her. I still want to buy her Tinkerbell underwear but then I realize she's no longer a girls size, it makes me want to cry. "It could be worse. You could be living in a thatch hut and eating bugs while your friends and neighbors die of starvation or dysentery." True, that would be worse, but isn't there some place between spinning my wheels and starving? At least when I was 19 and thinking about my life, I had hope. Now, I feel so...stuck.


Don't think that I'm just sitting around feeling sorry for myself....I feel sorry for everyone! All of us who bought into the bigger, better, faster mentality that dominated the 80's only to have the reality of over-consuming come crashing down on our heads. And I really love my house and my family. In fact, I love them so much, I want more of them. I want to spend more time in my house with my family, not working to pay for things that do not make me happy. As for the things that I've already wasted my money on, I've decided if I don't love or need it, I'm not keeping it.