I am a reasonably smart person. Not the smartest in the world, you know, I'll never be an academic superstar - but I do pretty okay. But one of the many things I have learned about myself, post-separation, is that I'm rather a fuck up at life. Okay - that's not entirely true. I'm good-ish at the emotional side of life. You know, aside from being slightly nuts and all. (I insist that it's the folks who don't know they're nuts that are the most fucked up and will maintain this until my dying day). But I can take care of people and their hearts like nobody's business. I'm kind of good at loving. Or at least it's an area I try really hard at. So yay me. Imma well-trained girl and can nurture with the best of 'em. (Yes, that was me being sarcastic).
But everything else I sort of seem to suck at. I guess I'd never realized before, because I've never been on my own (yes - this sounds pathetic and likely is). And apparently I gravitate to the, um, competent. The details, the bits of life that grown ups are supposed to keep in their brains - not so good at them. It's not like I don't mean to. I do. I really do. But details go into my brain and immediately fall out. I think to myself, I should write that down - and then I promptly forget that too. (Yes - I remember to feed the kids. But likely only because they tell me they're hungry. We won't mention the awful demise of our two beta fishies who sadly forgot to tell me to feed them and clean their tanks and stuff.)
It's not that I'm careless. I actually do care. I just am always one step behind and scattered and frazzled and this leads me to constantly get it wrong. Like, I can remember to write a blog because it's a more a heart thing and less a brain thing, but I can hardly ever figure out how to get the kids to school five minutes ahead of schedule or pay the bills on time or call people back when I'm supposed to or remember to check my school email or where I put my cars keys (even though there's a damn key hook that I put up my own damn self) or book my plane tickets at the time I said I would in order to figure out child care juggling.
I hate this about myself. Really hate it. I boggle own mind. I'm self-baffled and be-flummoxed. I want to be better at this life business. I hate asking for help (even though I have these amazing friends who continue to blow my mind and be there at the drop of a hat). I should be able to do this shit on my own. I should. Yeah, yeah single mom. It's true that there's a lot in my plate. It's true that life is frazzling and that I tend toward frazzled-ness under the very best of circumstances. But other people can do this. *I should be better at this*. And I'm just not.
So, there it is. I'm getting A's in school and a failing grade at life.