In March I began writing this post and then gave up. I have become a bit disillusioned by my blog. What exactly is the point of writing random stuff about my life if it just sits here on the internet in stasis? I wanted to revisit this story in perhaps a way to have a discussion about worth and value and how shame impacts and distorts these important aspects of our lives and sense of self.
So back in March this happened...
And then it dawned on me. I didn't actually remember taking the cash from the ATM. I remember getting my card and the receipt and walking away. I walked away from an ATM that had dispensed my $40. Well I am assuming it dispensed it. My brain fart meant that we were $40 short for rent and yes, our landlord still dabbles in cold hard cash, so we have to make sure that's all sorted before he comes and picks up the rent. It was not an absolute huge amount of money, so it affected me less than say if it was hundreds of dollars, or all of the rent. I just kind of took it on the chin, went and withdrew another $40. Rent paid, crisis averted. I hope whoever got a bonus $40 really needed it. What has worried me more since, is that this kind of thing is really out of character for me. I feel quite a bit worried about it. Is medication making me forgetful or perhaps my thinking is becoming preoccupied and scattered? Is this a sign I am descending into mind chaos again? Perhaps I have early onset dementia or a brain tumour? Or perhaps I have just been doing too much and need to have a break from the parent hamster wheeling. That's the most likely explanation. Nevertheless, I feel a bit stupid and embarrassed by the whole situation. I didn't even let my partner know. He would be understanding, but I just feel like I dropped the ball. My job is to keep the balls in the air, not drop them. I dropped all the balls of life last year. And am still here to tell the tale. And he took care of me. I guess some of it is shame. Money has been incredibly tight, the last thing we needed was for me to throw $40 to the wind. But anyway, we always get by. We have been very fortunate throughout the years, somehow we just always have enough to get by, even when we think it has spontaneously combusted, we find some funds somewhere.
I have pondered quite a bit lately about how we could go about making the future more financially stable and secure for ourselves and the children. There's this spiritual woo woo saying about making space for things to come into your life. I am not sure throwing money away to make space for more money is what that saying means though...
So there we go. It's interesting that almost 3 weeks after I wrote that as a draft in blog, we were all descended into global lock down and I well and truly got booted off my usual hamster wheel. Spending roughly 6 weeks or so with no commitments, expectations and uncertainty was kind of refreshing, even with 6 children to look after. We are slowly finding a new normal, the children have started to do staggered days at school, though one child is back fulltime. So I am beginning to feel the hamster wheel start again. I don't want to just click back into that hectic pace and wear myself down again though. There was a lot of value in the enforced go slow we collectively experienced, just a pause button for the busy-ness. How do I work that into my life now? I am not quite sure. In months and years to come we will see the true worth of this moment in time, personally and collectively. For me being home immersed in my children and learning from home, I found a new sense of worth in my ability to wrangle my tribe into some what of a loose routine of school work. Experiencing the value in finding that I do have the ability and authority to navigate them with their learning, mostly. The downside of weeks at home with children and learning from home, is that my house is a complete an utter shambolic mess, not that it has ever been perfect, but standards have well and truly dropped. I can't see my dining table, though it is small anyway and resides in a very small, awkward kitchen, in a very small house, it is still nice to have it decluttered and looking somewhat tidy. A symbol of quiet hope someone may use it for something other than school work and a small sign of effort that I haven't completely given up on trying to find some organised spaces in this house and life. There's very little of that around here. I like to make my bed everyday as a sign of having at least won that little sanctuary for myself. Only for the three year old to come along and destroy it. I am battle fatigued and just want my environment to reflect the peace and sanctuary that I desire and so need in life right now. Probably unrealistic expectations with the amount of children residing here. One of the children's support workers dropped in yesterday. Usually she takes my son shopping and drops him off when they are finished, but she popped in just to let us know how things went and to let us know she had bought him some takeaway to celebrate his birthday. The house was and still is in the state of shambolic mess and smells like it too. I felt instantly embarrassed and ashamed. I apologised, which I always do when anyone unexpectedly pops in and our house looks, well like our house. It makes me sad that I carry so much shame about it. And it is a mixture of embarrassment and shame around the mess and clutter and zoo smell, but also the fact that this rental is kind of falling apart. Our bathroom floor is not even sealed with tiles or lino, our kitchen sink cupboard should be condemned, our toilet room light shorted and exploded a couple of years and the charred mark is still on the ceiling. It got repaired, but the ceiling never repainted. We could do it ourselves, but it's one job on a never-ending list of jobs, one of those things that keeps getting knocked down the list. Our landlord isn't a bad guy as such, he is just incompetent. Repair requests would often fall on deaf ears, especially if they are just cosmetic. We just essentially got to the point that we don't bother asking anymore. Plus I feel bad, because over the years we have lived here, our kids have drawn on walls, numerous spills on the carpet and pet accidents. More shame and feeling unworthy. We deserve his shoddy maintenance because we are a shit family that can't get our shit together. We deserve this life. That's the narrative that plays on loop in the background of my life. You're shit, you're not worth it, no one likes you, you're dumb, you're too sad, you're too depressing, you're too intense, you're all the crappiest things that ever did crap. Fabulous brain, thanks so much. Shame is insidious. It's hard to know your value and worth when you're neck deep in it. It distorts your view of life and your sense of self. I feel very stuck in my life right now. Boxed into this chaotic, frenetic mess and knowing exactly how I got here. Me. It's my fault and I suck. More down talk of myself, shame and unworthiness. I don't want to suck at life anymore, I don't want to carry all this. What's that saying, "Put it down it's heavy..." Something like that. I want our life to be better. Different better. It can't be better if it stays the same. But how and what do I want to change? I don't want to carry the shame and embarrassment about my environment anymore. It's just a house. There's stuff I love about this house. The backyard, the streetscape, the trees. There is a charm about the old part of the house. A kind of timeless peace that has been covered in years of life and layers of paint. It will hurt my heart to leave. But we can't stay here anymore and thrive as a family. I just don't know how we go about buying our own house with very little money and very limited prospect of increasing our income. I pray that one day my life will look peaceful and joyful and tidy and organised. And just maybe I can sleep in a bed that I haven't had to brush crumbs and Skittles out of. God is our only hope now. I think God is the only one still reading my blog. So I send out this prayer for something new and hopeful, something to look forward to, a new start. A new house to call a home. A sanctuary to sanity and peace. With humility and a small ounce of hope, much love from me.
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