di·lem·ma [di-lem-uh] (n.): a situation requiring a choice between equally undesirable alternatives.
əEvery time I come into work, I wonder why I did. I hate it here, and I can't even explain why anymore. I just do. I'm feeling useless, uncomfortable, weird. I don't know where I should be, I don't know what I should do, but I do know that it's not here, not doing this.
Then I remember my other life, the one where I'm a woman, a wife, a mother, trying to manage a household and grow a person inside my body at the same time. The life where I dread waking up because it means I have to entertain all day long, as well as clean and cook and educate and maintain this facade of "we're doing great over here" all the time. I think about reading passages from books called "Motherhood without Guilt" and realizing that the entire fucking book assumes that a mother stays home, and a father goes to work. That the guilt a mother would feel is always going to be guilt over not being able to provide for her family because the husband is the one to bring home the bacon, and that our lives must, just because we're mothers, only involve guilt over asinine things like that. My guilt doesn't arise from feeling insufficient or inadequate in my "money making" skills; I've been the main breadwinner in my little family for years and years. My guilt arises from the fact that often I wonder what it would be like to leave completely and never look back. My guilt comes from the unending urge to be free and single and hot and sexy and alone, sleeping in my own bed or with someone that I can quickly use and kick out. My guilt comes from the part of me that wishes my only obligation was to myself, and the fact that I cannot for the life of me kick that person out of my head. That I could have these thoughts makes me feel guilty - are there any books out there to help me with these feelings, without also assuming that I'm fucking barefoot in the kitchen making dinner for all of my babies and planning some romantic cock sucking for my amazing husband later that night? Fuck.
Why am I here? And is this going to last for the next two months, this feeling of anxiety and discomfort? Mentally?
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