My Answer to “How Are You”

You ever notice how people ask that question? They don’t ask it. It’s just a segway into conversation, like “hi” should be (is). Seriously think about the last time someone walked up to you and asked (said) those words. Was there a question mark? Did they wait for a response? Probably not, but every time I hear it, I hone in on it. I feel compelled to at least consider my answer, but quickly revert back to the response of “good/fine/ok” as I’m undoubtedly expected. But here’s the real answer to that question, phrased according to who actually presented it. In the end, you can see why it’s probably just not a question I should be asked.

From the Ex-Boyfriend. At 2:51am. (Someone’s drunk.)
How am I? Oh, well… I’m tired, stressed out, and perpetually on the verge of tears. The ugly kind. Where your nose is running and your tears are pouring out, mixing with all the rest of your face fluids and you suddenly understand the meaning of: “she’s a puddle.” Because the break up has been hard on me, and even though I try to convince myself that we’ll be able to move on as friends like you want to, I still think about you every day, I still cry when you hug me, and you still drunk text me to ask me how I am (but never any other time), which used to be almost endearing, and now it’s just inappropriate, and I spend the day trying to figure it all out and regressing into some dark hole about how amazing we were and how happy I was and how its all over and I’ll move away soon, putting all of it behind me, but maybe by some miracle you’ll wish I stayed and come after me and I’ll go anyways (because I may be hopelessly in love but I’m not stupid), and you’ll wait for me and we’ll spend a year or two wishing we could be closer, until, one day, we will be.

I mean… I’m fine.

From everyone else.
How am I? I’m exhausted and angry and irritable. I love my daughter and I’m glad that I get to have her with me again after a year of her being away with her father. But I’m so utterly tired of living in a studio apartment where neither of us have space from each other, or our things, which don’t fit anywhere. I’m tired of worrying about making dinner every night and how she probably won’t eat it (every night), or how I’ll have to spend the evening telling her to help me clean up, and then telling her to get ready for bed, and then telling her to go to sleep (and each one of these things will be met with some excuse, or whining, or worse, crying), and then I fall asleep, with her beside me, while she elbows me, and kicks me all night. Until tomorrow, when I get to do it all over again. I love her so much, but I feel bad asking for help… because people seem to think of me in some high regard as some sort of hero. Yes, it’s hard to work full time and it’s hard to take care of a little person and be 100% responsible and simultaneously terrified that at any moment, some person/thing/event will cause some change in her brain that she’ll have to spend the rest of her adult life in therapy to deal with. I’m scared because I know parenting is not a science, and sometimes I think it would be easier if it were.

No, I’m still fine.

A Lot of “Posts About Nothing” These Days…

Seems like there’s been a trend lately. You do something that is so every-day mundane but YOU feel pressure about, and then feel liberated/vindicated somehow and call yourself a trailblazer.

Guess what? I have fat in places and I wear a bikini. I must now write about how wonderful I am for doing this and how misunderstood I feel. I’m a mother and it bothers people when I breastfeed in public. I must now write about how unnecessarily often I must do this in public and then record every person who I think may be made uncomfortable. I’m a woman and I stood up to my male boss about something and didn’t get fired. I must share this wonderful news with all people, so that my experience may be of some solace and motivation for future generations of female adolescents.

Gahhhhh!!!

Are you kidding me? Am I on a Seinfeld episode (for those that need the reference spelled out, Seinfeld was a self-proclaimed “show about nothing”)? Are we just writing to fill the void within ourselves? Trying to find something that makes us all shine (in our own eyes) just a little more? I feel like everyone is trying to make the most mundane, humdrum facets of life into something earth-shattering. In the end, all you’re doing is perpetuating that these ARE real issues. Don’t you remember how you were taught to deal with bullies? You take away their power. Kids used to make fun of me ALL the time for my small stature… except, that I didn’t care that I was short, so it wasn’t a weapon they could use against me.

People like to give advice and act like they’ve found the high road above all others. I’m special because syndrome…

I’m special because I wear a two-peice bikini when other people don’t want me to/expect me to.
No darling, you’re reacting to other people’s percieved impressions/reactions of you. You are still seeking approval (of your article and your pointed response to society), just in a different category of your life. You’d be far more of a trailblazer, if you just did ‘you’ and didn’t make a fuss about it. That’s how you become a role-model. It’s crazy, right?

Guess what? We’re all part of the beast of society. If we make it an issue, so will everyone else. Do these types of articles really help people? How about we teach the world that 1) you’re an adult. Congratulations. You’re at a juncture in your life where you get to make your own choices, regardless of other people’s opinions. The only person who has to live with those choices is yourself (and perhaps your offspring/partner). Someone is uncomfortable while you breastfeed your child? Ok. What’s more important? That person’s level of comfort or your child’s need to feed? Chances are, even if that person is uncomfortable, (and yes, they’re allowed to be) they won’t stop you. Just like you won’t walk over and sit even closer to them just to piss them off. Why? Because you’re not a jerk. You don’t like fat people in bikinis? Ok, don’t be fat and wear a bikini. Do you feel like people are judging you and you can’t make your own choices? Maybe you’re just not a grown-up yet. Let’s keep you in the oven a bit longer… you’ll get over it. Usually by your 30’s, sometimes a little later (but hey, sometimes it happens earlier… you may get lucky).

We’re human; we’re allowed to have sensitivities that are at times irrational. We’re also intellectually advanced beyond other creatures in the animal kingdom and adult enough to know that we should allow people to have their freedoms free of our persecution. Just as it’s not anyone else’s job to make me feel comfortable, it’s not MY job to try to dance around anyone’s opinions.

So, as a mother to a young impressionable little girl, I’m going to spend the rest of whatever days I have left in this world to be unapologetic and not seek approval. If I want to do something, be somewhere, say something, or wear something, I will. But, it’s going to be because I want, and not because I’m trying to ‘stick it’ to society’s percieved standards. Wow… that was hard.