I hit my limit at 7:32 pm tonight. A and S sat in the living room watching Survivor. AJ kept coming in the master bedroom where I tried to relax, find my center after reading post after post on Twitter and Facebook celebrating the GOP has enough votes to pass AHCA. My anxiety spiked.
I grabbed my car keys, shoved my feet into some flip flops, and I fled into the woods. That’s the great thing about my part of Dallas County -we still have wooded, forest like areas. I fled into one with well worn footpaths, where runners looking for solitude trot along, where rabbits stare suspiciously, where alone means alone. Alone with yourself, your thoughts, your fears.
I’m never enough. That’s my truth. As I walked the paths tonight, staying clear of jogging teenagers and happy dog walkers, that’s the thought which went through my mind -continuously.
If I were a better teacher, my students wouldn’t still struggle with concepts we’ve worked on since September. If I were a better wife, A and I wouldn’t struggle with our budget because I spend too much. If I were a better mother, AJ wouldn’t get in so much trouble at school. If I were a healthier person, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten cancer. After all, healthy people lead good lives and don’t get sick.
Growing up, I never felt like I was good enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough.
Middle age, I still don’t feel like I’m good enough. Smart enough. Pretty doesn’t even factor in anymore. My self esteem is another thing cancer put paid. I like the way my hair grew back, but that’s it. My skin is dull, my face aged. I look like my dad’s mom minus the wrinkles. My body is scarred. The tattoos only hide so much, only make up for so much, only bolster so much.
In his Academy Awards speech for Dallas Buyers Club, Matthew McConaughey said one of the things he needs everyday is someone to chase -his hero, himself in ten years. He said he knows he’ll never catch his hero, but it gives him something to chase. A dream. A what-might-be. A wish.
I think ahead, myself in ten years. 49 years old. Mother to a 21 year old and an 18 year old. Aunt of a 27 year old. 25 year wedding anniversary. 30 year high school reunion (not that I went to the 10 or 20). A dream. A wish.
My luck tends to suck.
I don’t see myself surviving to chase myself in ten years. Right now, I’m just existing again, and right now, I don’t care that I’m just existing.
My social currency is spent right now, my mind space crowded. I need quiet, time to regroup. Gather myself.
I’ll be ok. I always am. I just need some time to gather, to regroup, to let go the stress the end of the school year brings. Feeling never enough isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It gives you something to chase -yourself. You’ll never catch yourself unless you give up, and I might be many things, but I’m not a quitter, not when it matters. I’m not a hero, don’t want to be. That’s not the idea for me to chase.
I chase myself because I matter…even when I’m at my worst. I matter.