It’s all about me

Who am I?

• Mum
• Mighty marvellous paid worker – project management with flair
• Former uni student
• Theatre reviewer
• Music teacher in my (ha ha) free time
• Wonderful friend and confidante
• Courier service for small child
• Laundress who refuses to iron clothes
• Chief cook and bottle washer, and maitre d’ with attitude
• So-so cleaner and decluttering expert
• Mad writer
• Editor for brothers who write
• Tech expert for family
• Social worker and counsellor and part-time psychologist whenever things turn up – these skills aren’t offered but for some unknown reason, I always seem to be the person who is asked these questions or brought in to solve or mend broken things
• Crazy cat lady

In the interest of honesty and word count, I’ll tell you a few things that I am not.

I’m not a wife. I was widowed last year and it was a horrific shock. I miss being a wife, I loved my DH and I miss his love and support. The support meant I felt safe, I could strive for things and know that he was looking out for me and would help me the best that he could.

I’m not a wuss. I don’t keel over at crappy things, and I have the sense to call in the cavalry when I need help.

I’m not anyone’s partner. This is odd. This is the first time in I don’t know how many years that I have been ‘on my own’. And so help me, I’m gonna smack the first idiot who says “Hey, sister, it’s a wonderful learning time. You’ll work out how wonderful and self-sufficient you are.” Those are fighting words. I *know* that I am wonderful, self-sufficient, smart and a darn hard worker.  I *know* that I can exist on my own. I *can* do things on my own and I do them well. I do not need some patronising twit to ‘interpret’ my singleness in a way that makes them happy. That makes the snarky me want to come out with comments about projection.

So, hey, welcome to me!

 

I confess

My list of minor mea culpas.

1. I can’t stand Bob Dylan or Neil Young, even if most of my friends think they’re the cat’s pyjamas.

2. I blame other people for messes sometimes. Makes me look slightly less disgusting.

3. I have blamed my DD for creating marks on my work shirts. The truth is, I am too lazy to change a shirt just because there’s a mark on it. Heck, it may even be toothpaste from clumsy me.

4. I don’t read enough. I slob around and watch TV because that takes less effort. My years of university study must have worn me out.

5. I procrastinate. That’s why it took me so long to write this list.

6. I find my OCD too hard to deal with sometimes, but other times I sort of like it because it validates me being different.

7. I forgot to RSVP to DD’s friend’s birthday party until today. Party is on Saturday. I suck.

8. Sometimes I don’t take a stand when I should. Like telling people to stop being mean or homophobic, or that their words are like arrows rather than amusing bons mots. I’m getting a bit better with this but I still quake in my shoes while I’m telling people.

8.a. Actually, it was worth growing a spine and standing up for things more often.

9. I left my previous church because I couldn’t stand the music. It was appalling and I hate choruses anyway. I didn’t have the guts to tell the minister that that was the principal reason for leaving.

10. I’ve fallen asleep during intercessory prayers at church. That’s why I don’t kneel for prayers. Well, that, and the fact that my knees and back are getting worse.

11. I compare myself to other mothers and sometimes I fall short, and other times I am smug and think “Thank goodness I’m not like her”. I’m particularly ashamed about that.

 

Valentine’s Day – why the secret?

Help me out – I totally don’t get the idea of showing my love via an anonymous, secret card confessing true love and passion … but no darn name! Maybe it’s a social thing? Maybe Australians don’t get it. Maybe I am not sufficiently romantic.

What if the recipient is monumentally embarrassed? (Or is that the point?) Or if the recipient thinks that someone else sent the card and then another person is the lucky, tho’ inadvertent recipient of return passion? Help me out!

FWIW, I am a bit of a loser when it comes to Valentine’s Day. I guess that it has never really featured on my calendar as an important date. It was always more important to me to remember my wedding anniversary, or my husband’s birthday, and MOST IMPORTANTLY to tell my husband that I loved him and appreciated the wonderful things he did. Not just on special occasions. I sort of feel that it’s a cop-out, that day. You can be a useless spouse or partner most of the year but if you get the roses and card and chocolates and romantic dinner right on one day of the year, then you get enough credit points to save your sorry butt during the hard times.

Oh dear. I have turned into a cynic again.

 

Pet peeves

Don’t start me! Seriously, I’ve got a list and it’s not a little list. I’m going to avoid the biggies.

• People who tailgate you when you’re driving at the speed limit
• People who don’t RSVP to invitations
• People who “forget” to turn up to events to which they have accepted an invitation
• People who ‘unfriend’ you online for no obvious purpose, except maybe you’ve lost your shininess and allure
• Squeaky hinges
• Squeaky floorboards
• Mysterious stinks in the bathroom or kitchen or kitty litter
• Cat up-chucks on a beige carpet
• The smell of wee
• People who leave dirty dishes in the sink at work
• People who will not shake hands when one is offered, either at work or at a social setting
• People who expect me to get rid of spiders and insects

See? I told you it was a list.  Now share with me your own pet peeves or tell me why some of mine are wrong!

 

C’mon, get happy!

I thought I’d have a go at the Spin assignment and this week it’s Happiness.

A little part of me wishes it were as simple as the Patridge Family make it seem. A whole lotta lovin’? You gotta be kiddin’! Tho I had a little crush on one of the boys.

Just to continue the irritation:

OK, now I’ve got that out of my system, here’s a philosophy on happiness.

You don’t get to be happy all the time. There are no guarantees. Happiness sneaks up like a cat on soft paws and jumps in your lap with an unexpected weight (and joy!). It is in the small moments. Sometimes it’s in a surprise. Sometimes it’s in the big moments, though meeting those big events with an expectation of happiness to be there can end up in a big let-down.

You can’t rely on another person to be the source of your happiness. You can create happy moments for yourself and also hope that you will give some happy moments for others.

Happiness is not the be-all and end-all of existence, but it sure beats a lot of other things. As a depressive, I learnt to appreciate and love the sweet moments of grace through unexpected happiness – shafts of sunlight in a grey life. These graces kept me going in hard times.