Entry #689100, added on 03-02-10 @ 10:44 am EST
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I cannot convey how much I love my child in words. It astounds me how much I could love someone, especially since I never had those maternal longings when I was younger. I wanted children, yes, but not in the desperate way that so many other women appear to. I never got excited over looking at baby clothes, and I could barely tolerate listening to my friends talk about their children, always nodding absently with whole other thoughts running through my head. Then, wham, I'm a mother, and all the mysteries were unfolded instantly. Being a mother is probably the best thing I've ever been. I think she's cool.
I woke up this morning and went downstairs where my wee one was frantically drawing on various sheets of paper. As I moved closer, I saw that she was drawing posters, with stick figures in various action poses, and spidery-letters beneath them spelling out warnings: No smoking cigarettes!, Don't do drugs!, Do not litter!. She looked up at me and said, matter-of-factly, 'Hi mom! I'm starting a campaign. I'm making posters and I'm going to put them up around the neighbourhood, because, well, I think littering is not very nice, and cigarettes are icky and make people sick, and drugs are bad, so I'm going to try to tell people they're all bad ideas.'
I was impressed, and M. just smiled from his chair and sipped his coffee. We didn't put her up to this; her wheels turned and this is what she came up with. The innocence in her touches me, because I remember how it felt to be believe in good, and somehow, along the grooves of difficult years, I picked up cynicism and couldn't shake it from me. Her world is black and white, so much simpler than the grey world I live in, and to her if something is damaging it shouldn't be done. It makes all the sense, but we always find a way to dance around it.
M. has promised that he'll post her three best ones up at the grocery store. I hope the cashier who always has red eyes and who is quite clearly out of his mind on any given day will see them and think twice. Probably not, but it's nice to think positive.
M. has been dealing with a toothache for about two weeks, one which was not there before he went for a routine filling at the new dentist near our home. The dentist did something that caused an infection, but of course, one can never prove these things, even if it's totally obvious. So, M. went to another dentist and had x-rays which showed that yes, an infection had suddenly developed, and yes, the other dentist probably hit a nerve or something which is why M. has been in excrutiating pain, but no, it probably can't be proven. So, M. needs a root canal, and it typically costs around $2000, which obviously, is something of a problem for him at the moment. Still, the pain has been that bad that he made an appointment to have it done, and as a result, he woke up in the middle of night/morning and holed up in his studio. When I finally got out of bed, I asked him why he got up so early, and he said that he was immensely stressed and couldn't sleep. I hugged him and said that everything would be alright. It has to be.
But, does it? The thing is, the last week or so has been torture for me because I am buckling under the stress of my finances, or lack thereof. I haven't bought myself any new clothing in two years and I've been rationing lipstick so that I won't have to buy another tube. I feel like my world has been turned on its ear and the only thing that has saved me is my mild agoraphobia, because I rarely ache to go out, anywhere, which is a pretty inexpensive way to exist. That said, I do want to recover from this, and the only way is to get out there and do, which I find impossible because I don't have the cash to distract myself from any of what I'm feeling. In fact, the stress of having no money is actually deepening my troubles, though I try to ignore it. It's making me feel desperate and sad, and I'm livid with those who caused this 'recession' we're in, kind of wish we lived in a society where execution by firing squad was still the norm, because those people are ruining the lives of others for no good reason other than greed. I can't get behind greed as a reason. Click, click, pow. So, when I hear about bonuses being doled out to CEO's from companies that are producing defective merchandise, or financial institutions that are largely to blame for the current economic climate, I want to hurt people. They do not need that money, pure and simple. They are not eating macaroni and cheese and do not wear clothes without recognizable labels. They are living a life that is made up of thousands of other lives, lives they do not consider to be as valuable as their own, and I cannot stomach that. Instead, I begin to understand the mechanics behind revolution. I understand the burning down of the castle and the ousting of the king.
This goes against what capitalists believe, so I guess this makes me a non-capitalist in a way. I understand the need to succeed, and the need to accumulate, but when you're a child, and you have two cookies and another child has none, you would probably offer one of the cookies to the child who is without. You would not say it's the other child's fault for not being more motivated, or question their failure to make their own cookies. You share because it's kind and because it's the closest thing to being human. Some kids want all the cookies, though. It's just that we usually call those children greedy, or gluttonous, or full-on evil. Somehow, as we get older in our society, we applaud this needless hoarding. We see it as industrious and clever. How did taking all the cookies become something we aspire to do?
I have been worrying about money for the last two and a half years, probably more than that, even. Losing my job was not my choice, and trying to find a new one has become a seemingly impossible task. I am a hard-worker, and I am smart, and there is no good reason why I shouldn't be able to do something I want to do. I hate the games. I hate the bored voices of people on the phone when I call to ask about job opportunities. They have jobs, they don't care about me. Worse than the bored ones, I hate the hostile ones, the people who are threatened by the possibility of an interloper. They give one word answers and sound irate before telling you that they're too busy, they're not hiring, etc. I hate them, but not because they're employed and I'm not. I hate them because they lack compassion. I hate them because they know I cannot respond the way I'd like to when they attempt to put me in my place. They use it to their advantage, and for this, I hate them. I hate that you have to know the 'right people' to get anywhere. When I was a hiring manager, I didn't care who a potential applicant knew, and I made an effort in the area of diversity when other managers did not. I hired all races, all creeds, all ages and even people with disabilities. I welcomed the differences and looked for potential rather than pedigree. I was a fool to think that this would give me good karma. Now, a lot of those people are doing well, and occasionally, one of them will send me an email thanking me for giving them a chance when no one else did. I got one not too long ago from a guy who is now a pilot, and he told me that he will always remember me because I was 'the best manager, ever'. It made me feel rich, despite being poor.
All the stress is spiking my anxiety, too, and making me cower from the job hunt. I need to get a grip on this. I need to do it for my man and my wonderful little girl who deserves better than a mother who sobs while huddled in the corner. I need to be stronger than this.
This is the first time in my life that I remember thinking that money would solve almost everything.
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