I have gum on my shoe.

Yeah.. another 'woe is me post'.. but that's ok, because it's 'where I am'.

To my family, right now, I feel like a piece of gum stuck on their shoe. You know how it is.. You step on a piece of gum. Then each step you take takes a little more effort. Your shoe sticks to the floor or the ground. You try to wipe it off, pick it off, scrape it off with a stick. It doesn't really work though, because there's always that little bit left. It's still sticky, it still bugs you. And the more you pick and pull at it, the bigger mess it becomes. Over time, other dirt and stuff sticks to it and you notice it less. But still, it bothers you and you choose to wear other shoes to avoid the sticky ones. No matter what you do, there's always that sticky spot that bugs you. It may get easier to walk in the shoes, but you can still feel them stick a little.. through the dirt and dust and grass that has been smooshed into the gum. It's too bad those were your favorite shoes.

I don't know if it's simply the effects of things that have happened to me in my life or if it would have been any different had I had a 'normal' childhood.. but I feel like the biggest disappointment of my parents' life. I know that I have not turned out how they would have liked. It seems that every step along the way, I've chosen a different path than what they hoped I would choose. Some of the things that I've done that were disappointing to them were also disappointing to me. And, yeah, I don't want to 'make excuses for my bad choices' but I do know that I might not have done some of those things had things gone differently for me when I was younger.

Still, I'm happy with who I am. That may sound so contrary to what I say most of the time.. but deep down, I am happy with who I am. Why? Because I know that God made me who I am for a reason. I know that I have things to offer and I know that every experience I've had in my life - no matter how bad or good or traumatic or stupid - has in some way shaped who I am today. Deep inside me there is someone who loves and accepts me. Someone who is content, someone thankful for all the adversities I've faced, who recognizes the growth that came from them. She peeks out now and then.. I know she's in there because there was a time (not so long ago) that I found her. I clung desperately to her and learned a lot from her. What happened to her? She got bitch-slapped by a cheating husband. She ran and hid, humiliated and embarrassed. Who am I to say that I am a good person? Who am I to say that I am a good wife? Who am I to say that I'm a good mother? Suddenly all my flaws became painfully obvious once again. Suddenly I was immobilized and incapable of functioning.. at a time when I felt that I couldn't afford to be anything less than 'perfect'. (Yes, I know that I can never be PERFECT, but I can certainly be better than this.. I know because I have been.) The combination of the pressure to perform and overwhelming sense of inadequacy has made me want to just give up.

Suicidal? Yes. Often. It can be a daily struggle for me. Last Sunday, the main thing that kept me from driving off a bridge was the fact that it was Father's day. Silly, huh? I just didn't want my family to remember that 'Mom killed herself on Father's day.' Nice. Hey, it kept me alive, didn't it? Honestly, I live in a pretty safe house. I just don't have the means. Sure, if I got to a point where I was truly determined enough to do it, I could find a way. But I'm a sissy.. thank goodness. Some days I find myself thinking.. 'Well, my baby only NEEDS me for a few more months.. then she can survive without me.' Yes, breastfeeding my infant has saved my life. Anyway, suicide is stupid. Long ago, I decided that was definitely not for me. As hard as it is to continue living sometimes, and as much as I don't want to, I trudge on. With gum on my shoe.