Who am I?

I suppose “who am I?” is a better idea for a blog post than the usual Seinfeld-esque blog about nothing, right? 

I joined a Yahoo group designed to exchange ideas about the election as it relates to special needs children and adults.  The idea exchange has been passionate, with 5% on the McCain Palin side.  I have to admire them for sticking it out because the rest of us have an awful lot to say on that subject. 

Yesterday in an email, a friend of John’s, whom I like personally, endorsed McCain.  Once I read said friend’s anti-Obama views, I was fired up enough to want to refute every item, point by point.  The problem was, I still have a family.  The boys wanted their dinner, and when John got home, he wasn’t going to the gym because the Phillies were playing a late afternoon game, so occasionally he came into the kitchen, seeking sustenance.  This, in my mind, equates with the boys standing on my shoulder while I’m working (on office stuff or writing), asking, “Hey Mom, what’s for dinner?” every thirty seconds.  When John then said he’d make dinner, I made the foolish mistake of saying, “NO, I’ll get it.”  (My theory being that it’s easier to make it myself than have to constantly be interrupted with, “And how do I…?”)  I should’ve just pointed at the chicken and let him have at it. 

But I was REALLY fired up, and I think I made some good points against friend’s pro-McCain/Palin arguments.  (I also think friend was thinking with his little head when it comes to his views on Palin.)  I had a lot I wanted to say.  Chances are really good that he’ll disregard everything I said and vote for McCain anyway, but I wanted to be heard by someone.  Unfortunately, everyone else wanted me to do something else. 

I haven’t had any Me Time in I can’t remember how long.  That 10 minutes it takes to get to and from work doesn’t count.  John and I were in Vegas together; the only time we were apart, short of bathroom breaks, was when I went to bed and he stayed up to play slots.  We’re at work together.  I go home with the boys and keep working; he comes home from work, changes into his gym clothes, and goes to the gym (while I’m still home with the boys).  Then he comes home, cleans up, and hits the couch while I make our dinner.  (Yes, I make 2 dinners every night because John and I won’t eat chicken nuggets and the boys don’t like steak or pork.) 

The only time I can count on in a given month to have Me time is my VFRW chapter meeting.  For those few hours, I’m not Carla-Mom, Carla-honey, or Carla-can-you-do-this (at work).  I’m Carla the wannabe writer, sharing thoughts and ideas and feelings with other writers and wannabes.  I can dig down and see what’s buried inside of me, the things I have to keep hidden the rest of the time because all the other Carlas I’m required to be isn’t allowed to have her own thoughts and feelings because that would interfere with the course of everyone else’s wants and needs.  It’s why Me time is so important.   I had to skip the August meeting so I haven’t had time to Hang Out with The Girls in two months, and I miss it desperately.

Those Fridays and Sundays I take the boys to NJ to meet Phil or pick them up, I treasure that hour in the car, listening to my own choice of music, singing along wantonly, thinking about stories or plots or characters or the things I enjoy in my life or the things that worry me, and for that short time, no one else is there.  It’s what I loved about the yoga class I took.  The instructor told us that for 90 minutes, we’re not wives, mothers, daughters or anything else.  We’re just us, individuals, and it’s all about us.  Man, do I wish that class ran longer than 8 weeks. 

At the same time, I love to exchange ideas and hear what other people have to say.  I want to express myself thoughtfully and intelligently.  I want to hear and be heard. 

I started asking myself who I am and what I want.  Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis or maybe I’m just looking for my own identity.  Maybe that’s what midlife crises are all about.  I realized that part of the reason I gained back so much weight is because I’m looking to be satisfied by something in my life, and so much of my life is failing me, that the only thing I know will satisfy me is food.  (Let’s face it; exercise just isn’t fun.  It’s good for me and it makes me feel great–when I finish it–but it’s just not laugh-out-loud, let’s-do-that-again fun.)  There are some pursuits in my life I’ve been chasing for years and I still feel like I’m getting nowhere.  I need to find something in my life that can fulfill me, make me feel like I’ve accomplished something useful and personally gratifying.  Last night, that pursuit was writing a letter expressing my politicial viewpoint to someone who disagreed with me. 

I’m seriously thinking I should follow Palin’s lead and run for office.  (Without the whole barracuda attitude/insecurity complex thing.)  I’d probably suck at politics because I’m always trying to please everyone, but still, if I want to feel like I’ve effected change and made a difference in this world, that’s one way to do it.  Only problem is, who’s going to make dinner?

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