A few weeks ago we went on our annual Vegas trip. It was the fist time we left Scarlett for more than a few hours never mind over night or days. In the beginning I enjoyed myself then I felt guilty then I was concerned my milk was drying up and I had taken away that connection just her and I had so I could do it up in Vegas. Despite my love for that amazing place it was a different trip a different feeling. Sure we had fun, but it wasn't the Vegas we both know and love.....at least not this time anyway.
Keeping with tradition we went to the Palms Casino...first to get a tattoo...but they had closed up shop so next was the card reader. I'm pretty sure it was the same lady. The one the told us about Spencer and how we'd be pregnant within 6 months, then about Scarlett. This time she focused on my career and my creativity. She suggested I stop holding myself back and give myself a bit more credit for the work that I do. She told me money wasn't an issue and if I kept at it I would be quite successful with my photography.
She talked about Jason and how he's incredibaly patient with me. Despite who I am he still gets me with perfect understanding and amazing patience. He sees past my wall and loves me for who I am.
Then she touched on my appearance, how I always want to look my best. I guess she didn't see the 80% of my life living in sweat pants and a pony tail.....but I didn't interrupt. She said I like to have people believe that my life is good, that despite things being a bit hard I still answer with "I'm going good can't really complain actually" I never want people to feel bad for me or to burden them with my troubles so in short I fake it. She suggested that sometimes it's ok to tell them I'm not ok, it's ok to lean on someone else and let down the brick wall.
I sat there saying very little nodding and smiling and thinking. I'm still amazed how this woman can see what she see's even without me saying a word. In that moment I wanted to cry....I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, I wanted to share my sorrows and stress's with her, because she made me feel like it was ok to do. Now don't get me wrong there are people in my life that would never make me feel guilty or bad for my feelings, they wouldn't judge me or gossip to others if I shared my secrets. Yet here I sit silent in my pains, shielding my woes and keeping up appearances.
I've come to understand that life isn't often kind, sure there are moments and times when it's amazing and wonderful and those are instances that I cherish deeply. But most of the time, life is cruel, daunting, stressful, painful and beyond frustrating. I still wonder how this could happen to me? How could losing my baby happen to me, how could being slapped in the face over and over again KEEP fucken happening to me? Nothing seems easy, nothing comes without some sort of consequence or sacrifice. And really I wish someone would have told me that at 15, 16, 17 and 20 because maybe just maybe I would have stopped wanting to grow up and have all the things I have now. Maybe I would have just enjoyed being a teenager. I regret that part of my life, the part where I was never happy with the life I had when I was worry free.
I say that and then I feel guilty for not loving where I am now. I feel bad for not being able to see the happiness in my life because I can't see past the stress and worry and constant non stop demand of the every day. Despite that I'm thankful for the baby that I've got, my dream baby. She's pretty awesome. My issue isn't with her because I can read her like a book and every response I give her she's satisfied with. There haven't been sleepless nights while she screams and screams, colic wasn't an issue, she fusses when she's hungry or tired. Happy most of the time and funny as hell. We lucked out with this one, in fact I'm worried to have another in case that baby shatters my fairy tail ideas of babyhood.
My husband is.....he's great let me first say. Patient, kind wonderful. But right now he's driving me mad. And it's nothing that he's intentionally doing, he's not mean to me or pushing buttons I just think that he is. I silently curse his name because of a towel on the floor OR this is a good one- he bought to much lettuce.......Yes I was rip roarin mad when I tried to make a sandwich today and pulled out not one but two large heads of lettuce slowly shriveling away because there is now way we will eat that much lettuce before it gets nasty. So I was pissed, and annoyed with him. Makes sense right?........right? I don't know how to talk to him about things because due to his own stress he's taking everything personal so then feelings get hurt I stomp upstairs he goes down and that's that. My communication sucks and one of my largest fears is that I'll take to long to get over my big head and open up like an adult should and my husband will up and leave me. Years of trying to communicate and he'll be fed up leave my stubborn ass and I'll be alone. All because I can't talk to him. Maybe I should blog to him.......
I'm admittedly in a rut, a big fat ass rut that looks quite high, heads straight up on a 90 degree angle and I've got nothing but my hands to help get me out of it. Some days I sit in my rut refusing to even try to get out, others my hands bleed from my attempts. But still even to this day I tell an old class mate "I'm good actually everything is pretty amazing these days" NOT.
I wonder if I'll forever seek that happy perfect life. I wonder if I'll always be in a rut because I can't accept the good in the now. And I wonder if it's something I deserve. Or maybe there is some sort of lesson I'm supposed to be learning but because I'm such a frigged stick in the mud I can't get over my own damn self to learn that lesson. It's frustrating, maddening and I have no patience for myself right now. I imagine it'll be the same tomorrow and the next until I some how dig out lay down and die from exhaustion.
So to summarize I'm a faker. I have the nice house (we got it by the way...barely but we got it) I've got a great husband, beautiful daughter, two dogs one big one small and we all look pretty cute on the outside. Dream life, the one I always wanted. The one I cried about listening to Boys to Men after being dumped for the 10th time thinking I'll never have. Pfftt it's over rated. It's hard work, stressful and exhausting and there is never enough time or energy to sit down and actually enjoy it. So instead I put my energy into faking it.
My name is Jen and I'm a big fake.
