Marky mark and the funky bunch music for the people

Who was I?

Last week I copped to how I’m a member of the Funky Bunch. Ok, no, I am not the chick on the right rocking those kneepads like nobody’s business. But since I have owned my funk, I gained perspective into it. I don’t exactly have good vibrations yet, but at least there’s an outside chance.

One of my bigger complaints seems to be a constant state of mourning for the loss of who I was. It’s not a big dramatic feeling driving me to throw myself upon the nearest chaise crying “Why?! Why?!” and fanning myself like a meth-fueled hummingbird. It’s more like that feeling you get when you’re in a moment and you realize just how different your life has become. It’s that filled with frustration, eye rolling, holy $)&#)&, what is happening now?! moment that you cannot believe you are in. Mostly for me it hits when I’m adulting and let’s face it, adulting is hard.IMG_2858

I did used to be cool and I did do way cool things. I used to travel, go dancing and workout. I also used to spend waste hours of time in my jammies on the couch watching crappy TV and spotting for Hubs’ endless Bioshock/Halo/Gears of War/Assassin’s Creed/Fallout/Portal fests. We’d lose a whole day weekend and survive on takeaway and beer/wine. It was MAGICAL.

Well…that’s not all that I did.

I also had a career. I worked full-time on a 9-5 schedule with big money and bigger shopping sprees. Yes, I still have that debt, thank you, !@$$&%ing irresponsible past me. Only now I struggle to pay the bills, buy food for the family and keep clothes on my kid. Why?! Because daycare and preschool are OUTRAGEOUS, that’s why! Oh, yeah, that’s right I’m someone’s MOM.


I wanted to be someone’s mom so badly. Someday I’ll bore all five of you with that story, too, but for now I’ll just whine about how cable TV told me I could have it all and every single show LIED TO ME. Or really, I just wasn’t old enough to grasp what the drama was really about. Why did the mom throw such wicked shade at the dad? Because Mom just worked a full day and now her three kids are looking at her whining with all their damn Lifetime movie problems/giving TV appropriate attitude/asking for money and Dad’s just reading something/bitching about the lawn/cracking open a cold one.

More than ever now I hear my Dad’s voice in my head every time I want to scream “it’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair.”

I hated that. The fact that he said it all the time and that he was right. I knew every time he said it that he was right, but I just still do not want to believe it.

not listening

I cannot have everything. No, seriously, I can’t. I’m not one of those people who can make that happen. I’m not driven enough and I want 100% of all the things, which never works out. Balance isn’t about all the things getting 100% anyway. As my current boss likes to remind me when we’re reviewing people’s time allocations, “it’s impossible for anyone to work more than 100%.” So simple. So true. It applies to the roles we play at work and at home and wherever else we find ourselves. You can be 100% of something and you can focus your ass off for it, but you can’t be 100% for two things at the same time, let alone three, four or twenty.

So I sit here trying to figure out what my next steps in life are and I’m lost. I’m a mom and that’s amazing (even when it is so NOT amazing), but that gig doesn’t pay, unless you count fantastic pretend smoothies and giggles. I’m working full-time with a decent gig and incredible flexibility for not as much salary as I’d like/used to make and I have no idea what my career path is now. So at least I have a job and we still have food, roof, water, each other, right. Yes. Big grateful hug.

I know I will figure it out eventually, but it would be really great to figure out who I am and what I’m going to do with myself. Until then, making you feel the rhythm is my occupation, so feel the vibration.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s