Addie asked me what the word “worry” means, and I tried to explain it to her in the best way I know how to a four year old, which I thought sounded like garbage, but she understood it. Well, she understood it enough to ask me “Do you worry about me?”
I thought to myself:Do I worry about you??
I worry about you all the time. I worry about you at night- that you’ll kick your blankets off and be cold. That you are not getting enough sleep. That you’ll have bad dreams and be scared. It’s why I get up to check on you, to put your blankets back on you, to put your other leg back on your bed when you sleep in funky positions.
I worry about you getting sick.
I worry about you getting boo-boos.
About being hungry, cold, unhappy, unhealthy.
About whether you get out enough, whether I do enough with you and enough for you, about whether I do TOO MUCH for you to the point of spoiling you.
I worry that I’m too tough with you or that I baby you more than I should. I know you’re only four but I also know that even when I can and want to, I shouldn’t give you everything you want.
I worry that I’m not teaching you enough.
I worry that I smother you too much. I won’t lie- you smother the heck out of me but as annoying as it can be, at least I know you’re safe.
I worry that you’ll pick up bad habits when you start school, and I worry that as you get older, you’ll fall in with the wrong crowd. I worry that I’ll do a bad job in helping you distinguish the difference between a “good” crowd and a bad one, or that I’ll push you into that type of crowd with my nagging.
I worry about how my decisions will ultimately effect you- the good and the bad.
I worry that I’m not doing a good enough job as your mommy.
I worry about who I bring around you. Who you get to meet, who you get close to.
I worry about days that are years away- the days that you’ll decide you want to be around your friends more than me. The days where everything I say will just sound like annoying babble and you’ll hate me, and you’ll think that everything I do is out of spite, and that you won’t realize that every single thing I tell you and ask of you is to better you in some way- to toughen you up, teach you a lesson, keep you safe and happy. I worry about the days where you won’t need me anymore. When you’ll be out doing your own thing, thinking you know everything… when you’ll be learning the things that I won’t be able to teach you about life, that can only be learned through experience… and I worry that I won’t be able to help you. Or that I’ll be useless in trying to comfort you.
I even worry about the day a boy breaks your heart for the first time. I’ll want to choke him. (even though that won’t be for at least another 40 years when you’re allowed to date)
I worry that you’ll be like me in all the wrong ways.
I worry that you won’t fully understand that I will love you no matter what you do, how you act, what you say, what you wear, who you love or whether I agree with you or not. That I don’t say and do things because I HAVE to as your mother, but because I WANT to and because I MEAN it.
I worry you won’t want to go to college one day. I see people who, even in this economy, still think an education is a waste and I worry like crazy that you’ll fall into that group. (Girl, you BETTER go to college or you and I are going to have issues!!)
I could go on and on for days and still not be able to tell you every little thing that I worry about. I don’t think I STOP worrying. I’ve heard from my elders that I never actually will, but you know what? Maybe my worrying is what will help me make you the best person that I can raise you to be. That’s why I’m okay with spending my life worrying about you.
But what I said to her was: “Yep.”
He dumped me again. It’s only been 100 times now. It still sucks but you know what? He was no good for me. He did a lot for me, he was funny and amusing, but over the past year and a half, he lied to me CONSTANTLY, hit me, grabbed me, dragged me, blamed me for EVERYTHING, manipulated me, controlled me, freaked out, called me every name in the book, insulted me, and made scenes in front of my daughter. Yet it still hurts a little and still sucks. Whatever, I’ll get over it. I always do. I’ll find someone else if he doesn’t want to be with me. Fuck him. His mom had this stupid talk with him about how I’m not right for him, made him realize he isn’t ready to commit, he’s more concerned with himself right now than committing to a relationship….
And so….yea. I’m bummed. I will cheer up, I’ll be fine by tomorrow.
I’m in quite a mood. I’m getting stressed to the point I feel sick again. Fighting with Brian, even though I know we’ll end up making up and getting back together… however I’m not sure if I even want to now.
The money. I can’t find a job and I’m ready to blow my brains out from the stress of it. No one is hiring at the moment, and staying at my last one wouldnt have paid enough to be worth it… it cost more to get to work than i would have been making.
I had so much to say and write and now that I’m on here, I’m somehow freezing up and don’t want to write any of it.
I’m exhausted, I’m stressed, I’m sick, I hate my damn life right now. :(
That’s all. I’m gonna go take some benedryl and go to sleep or something. :-/
