During Interview, Asylum Director Exclaims, “We’ve Got Ourselves a Runner!”

Is it possible to have a mid life crisis at 30?

Maybe, I’m just going crazy. That seems much more plausible. I don’t even think I’d mind the little white jacket anymore, not really. Well, I’d mind it today. It is like 90 degrees outside, after all.

I don’t know. I guess at 30 you actually start to live. Like, REALLY live. Really start to see the world in a different light. The small stuff doesn’t really bother you that much. The big stuff seems much more imminent than it did before. Surely, much more important than it did at 18.

When you’re 30, one day you just wake up and look around you and realize that you spent nearly half of your life getting to where you are now. Maybe it’s just me…. Frankly, I wasn’t too impressed when I took that look around.

Where am I, REALLY? My career, yeah, I never got around to deciding what that was. Sure, I fancied a few things. I went to college a few times. But reality always took over. And the reality of it was that bills needed to be paid. Building a career simply wasn’t paying the bills. Factory work, hotel work, dishwasher work, nurse aide work… that’s what paid the bills.

The decent, reliable car that I dreamed of, well, we’d take care of that next tax time. Next tax time was 9 years ago. A forever home that we could make our own, yeah, we’d settle into that by next summer. Next summer was 8 years ago. I’d buckle down and start putting order and structure into my kids life, sure, next month when I’m not so stressed from our current state of despair. Next month was 7 years ago.

Kind of getting the idea of where I’m headed? Well, besides the obvious downward spiral.

Maybe I’m just anal. Maybe I just over-stress. Maybe I just focus on the wrong things.

I guess it’s not that important that kids shouldn’t have tv’s in their rooms. That bedrooms are made for sleeping. That a simple story before bed would provide my children with both the mutual need for parental contact as well as a proven way to wind down from the day. It is pretty anal to make a big ordeal out of a simple tv. It is pretty anal to get upset over a child who has struggled to sleep at night for so many years that I secretly wonder if he was born nocturnal. So I let it slide.

I guess it’s not that important that families should sit down and eat a meal together as often as possible. That dining room tables are made for gathering around and communicating with each other. That a simple meal provides so much more nourishment for a childs mind and soul than simply what is on the plate before them. That it might actually do good to remove ourselves from computers and tvs and cell phones and such nonsense for a mere 30 minutes a day, if for nothing else, to remember what each other look like. I guess it is pretty anal to make a fuss over where food is consumed, after all, it is still getting consumed, mostly. I guess it is anal to get upset over children that desire to eat nothing but candy and cookies and sweets. I guess it is anal to get upset when you’re fighting with your child to go to bed and you have to stop and fry them up some eggs and toast because, ooops, they never got around to eating the dinner that is still sitting on the computer desk. So I let it slide.

I guess it’s not that important to pay bills on time. That it might actually cause one to experience more enjoyment not having to read shut off notices every 3 months. That it might actually provide children a happy, healthier home knowing that they have a safe secure environment to come home to. That even though they might not have gotten that awesome toy they wanted so bad in the store, that they have heat and electric and water and a roof over their head. I guess I’m anal to get upset when we receive 3 shut off notices and an eviction notice in the mail and still end up going to the motocross races that evening. I guess I’m anal to get upset that my children are unable to leave the house without getting something from a store, every store. I guess I’m being pretty anal in thinking that children need to be taught that things they want require hard work to get them. That things need to be earned and not simply handed to them. That responsibility means that sometimes you have to chose to pay your bills over having that fun night out. It seems anal of me to make such a fuss over it, it is only one night out. So I let it slide.

I guess I simply stress too much. Maybe I’m anal because my idea of a relaxing weekend is knowing that I took care of business, even if taking care of business means I have no money to do anything but relax around a bonfire with my family and make smores. Maybe I’m simply an uptight bitch because I always end up ruining a great family night out simply because I can not fully enjoy myself knowing that the $75 that ended up getting spent would have been more efficient going towards our water bill. Maybe, I simply don’t know how to have fun. But then again, maybe I’ve never been given the opportunity to have fun, the way I think fun should be had.

Maybe, we’re simply two different people. That though we gained attraction to each other due to our polar opposites, that truly pairing such opposites together does nothing but push them farther apart. Maybe polar opposites cannot be combined to result in a perfect mix of both ends of the spectrum.

It seems pretty anal to make such a fuss over it, to demand my equal say, to cause such a scene in front of the children. To “ruin” yet another “fun” night out with the kids….

So, I let it slide.

Maybe, I’m just going crazy. That seems much more plausible. I don’t even think I’d mind the little white jacket anymore, not really. Well, I’d mind it today. It is like 90 degrees outside, after all.


Categories: 2015

Tags: , , , ,

1 reply


  1. There’s a Fine Line Between Being Divorced and Married. Do You Use that Line as a Jump Rope? | Ruthless Ramblings

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