i really used to believe- i'm an optimist. an idea held for, let's go with, the majority of my life. and most truths that you have about yourself cannot hold up in the face of parenthood, and very specifically motherhood. because, distinction for the uninitiated (i envy you my childless, cat ladies), dads can, and do, sustain inaccurate self agrandizing in the face of being a parent (case in point, my own father, i'm sure he thinks he RULES. he does, in fact, NOT RULE). you know where that grace does not live? moms.
this idea that i'll planner buy myself out of hormone deficiencies and into a patient parent. journal page my ductwork (and house) into needing less than an all day service. mood board a tidy yard that isn't literally haversham dereliction. like, the slog of daily real life can't hold optimism? you know what's not going away without multiple day, week, month commitments? EMAIL. DOG HAIR. ROOF MOSS. FUCKING LICE. and no amount of positivity deals with that. i'm certainly not saying don't deal with these... inanities with anything other than a smile, dark humor, copious amounts of meme sharing with friends. but i will say, old me would 100% be like- YES! let's tackle this! and current me is like... hierarchy of ignore level-9 that bitch, and let's get back to zoning out at the dining room table so we can wonder what's wrong with us.
i'll tell you what's wrong. you will agree. and then we'll both go back to... wrapping up in a quilt with a cuppa, and reading a sucky book that's not going to clean the gutters. jk, i'm not going to tell you. you know. it's a litany of super boring bs that you already know, and i already know, and it's like... genuinely just that society is built on... the idea that's it's completely ok for ONE PERSON to have a trillion dollars (i see you zuckerberg, you cunt) but not ok for a woman to have the healthcare she needs to keep her LITERAL life (thank you texas)? are these the choices? i... can't? i can't stay optimistic.
yesterday i had what i call the rage day. it's that one day (about) a month where i get so filled with consuming anger, that i get in my car. or i start hunting all over the house for just one more thing. and i think... i'm going to find one more thing, and when i find it, oooooo, that's it. i'm done. and then i find the one more thing, and i still choose to keep going. to keep being here and showing up. and then i find ONE MORE THING, and it clicks that rage up again, and i'm convinced all over... that's all i can take. but... and you already know this, i'm still here. you're still here. email. packing lunches. buying another freaking pair of shoes even though buying shoes once a month is ridiculous, and impossible, and why aren't kids shoes all in one place, it's like a hunt of impossibility. and freaking groceries. and pulling weeds (ok, someday, hypothetically), figuring out the insurance claim AGAIN, and submitting another. freaking. job application... we're still doing it. we keep doing it.
and i used to think- i'm so different from what i used to be like. where did I go? i don't feel like myself. or... i'm not me anymore. where is fun me? and i do feel that. because, yes. absolutely, i mourn her disappearance. but also, zoning out at the dining table, having some introspection on the rage days has shown me- staying, trying, continuing, it is the optimism. she lives somewhere different than inexperience, blind trust and let's be real, ignorance. to stay here and be here, show up and slog. that's literal optimism, and some days, that correlation is a balm. i am an optimist. in a new way. sure. not always enjoyable, i freaking hate being responsible for every single meal that four people consume. but... if i'm going to haversham it up right, several of those meals get to be cake. and there's a bakery right around the corner. see? optimism. take that, fun dad.
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