Yesterday on our way home from Indianapolis, I had my feelings hurt. It all started with packing the car at the hotel and how the cooler was to be situated so that the boys could reach it to grab their sodas & food on the way home. Mike shoved it in first, I told him to put it on top of the suitcase. He got pissy. I walked away. I hear him mutter something about me thinking I am the only one who can pack the car. I step away from the car. He starts shoving shit in the car then turns to me and says “There, the fucking cooler is where you want it.” I say nothing & just get in the car. I tried really hard all morning to be nice, keep a positive attitude and stay happy. I thought I did a pretty damn good job putting on my happy face and going to the Indianapolis Motor-Speedway Hall of Fame Museum, snapping photos of smiling kids, talking to my husband about our first races there, taking everyone’s photo by the car that won the very first race they each attended. I had forgotten about the morning’s packing incident.
Long story, short… somewhere between Indianapolis and Saint Louis, Mike said something and I obviously took it the wrong way. I cried in the car. I also decided it was probably best if I just kept my mouth shut and by 10pm I was in bed crying with my nose so stuffed I couldn’t breathe and my eyes starting to swell.
I look a fine mess this morning. My face and eyes are still swollen. I look like I have cried for weeks. I did make few observations/resolutions last night.
1. I am tired of working of my ass off for people who just use me to get what they want and will pay me when they feel like it.
2. I really don’t care if I lose ‘friends’ because of my new way of thinking.
3. I am not going to be guilted into doing something just because someone else wants me to do it.
4. I am not going to be the one to try to sustain family relations. Just because I moved out of the state away from my entire family does not mean the obligation rests solely on me to ‘keep in touch’. Last time I checked the fucking telephones worked both ways.
5. No, I am not moving back to VA.
6. I don’t care if I don’t get a job in the real estate field. Money is money and I will go where I need to go to get a job.
7. I will not be working for anyone who does not pay me and with whom I do not have a written and signed agreement for compensation.
8. I am no longer going to work as an independent contractor. I will have a W-2.
9. I really don’t care if Mike doesn’t want me to paint the guest bedroom pink.
10. I am really tired of my son making me feel like I am the bad guy because I make him do chores and help out with projects around the house. Tough shit. You sleep in my house, you eat my food, you wear the clothes I buy you, I pay your phone bill. You will damn well do what I fucking tell you do and you better do it with a fucking smile on your face.
11. To Mike – I know you are a better cook than me. For you, Cooking is a passion. For me, cooking is a necessity. If you want to teach me how to cook, then teach me. Don’t let me do all the prep work and then you take over when it hits the skillet because ‘you can’t explain how much oregano to put in the sauce’. That pisses me off.
12. I don’t spend any money on myself. I wear rags, my clothes look like shit. They’re faded, worn and tired. I need a haircut, my fingernails look like shit. I have never had a pedicure. If I get a facial, it’s a wet washcloth on my face while I take a shower. I spend my free time, cleaning your house and shuttling the kids to their ever-important movie shows, theme parks and bowling alleys. If I have an extra dime, it goes to the house or the kids. If you say you are going to take me to the park to hike, I expect you to take me to the park to hike. I don’t ask for much. When your drinking buddy calls & you leave to drive 100 fucking miles to play in his band just for fun instead of taking me hiking like you promised, it fucking pisses me off. No fucking wonder I’m a bitch when you leave and I’m a bitch when you get back.
I am fucking tired of putting myself behind the wants and needs of everybody else. I love you all, but fuck you. It’s my turn.