There’s been a shortage of wallowing. Just kidding, we all whine and complain and clamor for pity or at least a hug to tell us that we are okay, even if just to ourselves or to that one friend who won’t judge.
Then there’s social media. Is there no end to the bitching and moaning there, where we are safe behind a screen or away from having to face a reaction to whatever we’re crying about.
So most of us grew up being told to persevere through hard times. To keep calm and… all that. We respect those who go on to do their work or live their life despite the hard times, the tragedies big and small. We admire people who don’t complain or to put it in today’s jargon, play the victim. And yet we usually don’t step up to the plate ourselves, me being a big offender.
But even if we do spend time being our own hero sometimes we need to take a few moments and say Fuck That. Sometimes we need to let it out, and to borrow more jargon, we need to feel our feelings and then, and sometimes only then are we able to move on. So more whining right? Yes. But I feel if we can just put it out there in a way that at least acknowledges that we’re being a pussy at the moment then blowing off steam is just that, airing out the build up that happens just cuz, life.
So here’s some of my recent pity party complaints. Read on. Or don’t. Either way I will bleed on the page and hopefully feel better.
- My husband and I are at a standstill of sorts. Our marriage is wobbly on good days and on it’s way to the dump on others.
- My sister in law and her husband moved in with my husband’s parents. They are in their 30’s. They have a condo and the husband is a real estate agent. This is beyond irritating to me because they are both children and now they are really children. He has his own parents anyway, why not stay there? or scratch that, why should I care about where they live, why does it bother me so much? But just to dwell in this irritation a little more I’ll just add that they leave their daughter with other people mainly my husband’s parents all the time. Or his parent’s house. Or his brother’s house. Basically I wonder how often they watch their own kid. Now as they hang out in my husband’s parent’s house doing what, I’m not exactly sure I just hope that… what do I hope? that they use the situation to their advantage? Seems like they’ve been using all the situations to their advantage anyway. Have I mentioned the fact that the dude isn’t a real dude? I’m sorry for flexing a little gender stereotypes but the guy can’t fix anything. He’s useless with cars always asking his wife’s dad for help or my husband who has been called over to fix a toilet or any other plumbing or to remove a water heater or change the oil or fix brakes. The guy isn’t able to do anything! I have to figure out why this bothers me. Maybe because they get all this help and resources and babysitting and are apparently fine with it, gimme gimme gimme. Maybe it’s because whenever I’m around them I get this feeling as if they are too cool for me. I don’t have a high opinion of myself, i’m a pretty miserable person, I know. But why is it so hard to say hello to someone? They just stand around holding their drinks waiting for the other person to greet them first. I guess some people will forever just rub you the wrong way no matter what they do. But I can’t let my annoyance with them rub off on their kid. She’s still an innocent person, not yet molded by the snottiness of her parents.
- Whenever I think about them I want to crawl in a hole but instead just go on a tangent about how much they irritate me. I do a pretty good impression of them, my husbands’s sister and her husband. She is the princess and he is the golden boy. That’s how I list them on my contacts, princess and golden boy. He can do no wrong. Not only is he a graduate student and all around good ol’ boy, but he’s in politics, a hometown hero, a boy after my father in law’s own heart because they are both knowledgeable about the government and kick back with cigars; nothing I can compete with. Oh a competition? Why bother? And you’d be right. On the outside there is no contest, not even the idea of it crosses my mind, how absurd! But on the inside I was the kid-in-law first. And also since my dad is out of the picture and my mom-for the first ten years I was “in the family” was in a nursing home not really being my mom but, well, I walked into my husband’s family’s arms and didn’t want to leave and for the past 6 years have had to share. So Waaaah. I’m kidding. Sort of. Or I wish I was since apparently there is a reason why whenever his or her name is brought up I cringe. And when my husband is dispatched to do something for them at their condo i’m wondering why can’t he do it himself? Or at least offer to pay. He doesn’t because he’s rather frugal. He who takes his wife to England for the weekend (while once again their kid is left with a grandparent) won’t offer to pay for my husband to replace a toilet.
- They make up most of my annoyances lately. Like when he speaks to his dog like a toddler, replacing L’s with W’s. How he eats and drinks, what a beer expert he is, all of it. And now he’s moved in with his wife to her parents house. A place where yours truly has spent a considerable amount of time; about 4 years when Aly was born and then again (after the parents had offered and then rescinded their offer to co-sign for us for a house and we were headed towards foreclosure and had no where to go) for another 3 years. And yes we were in our thirties the second time and now the Golden Couple are there. Please tell me why I’m so annoyed with this?
- And now we are to host them next weekend when they come down with the parents who are supposed to watch all three kids in our place which means I’ll have to clean (steve will help) and then make something for them to eat because it’s the weekend after the golden girl’s birthday and if we are supposed to go out to a brewery (I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since the one small cup in August so I’m not terribly excited about this) and come back to a house full of no food? Of course not. It will be expected but not said out loud that we will provide dinner as well as pay for the drinks because it is the classy thing to do. It’s just that I’m not a classy person.
- Other things to whine about. I miss a friend. I miss having a friend or friends but maybe just one good one and specifically I miss her. Why do I miss her? Because 4 years ago I stood in front of her condo with a bag of clothes in my arms that I had brought there to move in and now I wasn’t going to move in and that was a decision beyond a change of address. “Don’t be a jerk,” she’d said kindly and I said the same. And we haven’t talked since.
- When I see people on Facebook doing things that I think I can do I will mull it over in my head trying to imagine doing it and then looking for a way to do it. Such as a girl I went to high school with posted that she had just completed a 3 minute forearm plank. I had never tried to do that but I had to find a way to do it just because. And then she posted another picture of her after completing 47 squat jumps. I have recently gotten into doing little hiit vids where they do a butt load of these squat jumps. I think I can do it. I have no idea since I haven’t tried but when I’m alone I will try just because. And if I can do more I will feel smug, I mean better.
- I get these competitive feelings when I see people who are happy and in love and it hits me the hardest when these happy in love people are sporting baby bumps. All of a sudden I want a baby bump even though expanding our family isn’t the best thing for us now and possibly ever I have a baby who’s not even two yet. I have what they are expecting yet I want it all the same. But it’s not the baby I want, I’m sure of this. It’s the moment, that smile and how their hands are touching and they are very into their life and here look at us on Facebook proving how awesome we feel about each other. I guess that’s what I really want, that free from dark looks and tension and the next argument around the corner. All the history that has accumulated under the rug that has made a permanent little mound that is tripped on over and over again. It needs to be cleaned out for sure and it’s been chipped at, all the dirt and crud but it never goes away. I fear that even if it were to be thoroughly cleaned up the rug has taken it’s shape. It will always buckle just a little bit and able to be tripped over.
And with that I’m whined out. I feel humbled by all the crap I feel irritated over and jealous of. This doesn’t mean i’m over it. It will creep up again. Probably later or when I see a photo of the golden couple doing something yet again without their kid or when I glance at my texts and my father in law still hasn’t responded to my, “so I hear you have tenants?” text asking basically to confirm that they are living there. It’s been a week and still nothing. oh boy, time to shut it down before I get all stupid and revved up again.