I had finally felt ahead. I had some money in the bank and enough to go out to dinner once in a while. Then, the car shit the bed. I was so upset. I worked so hard to get into this position just for it to be taken away by the damn car.
I called my dad and explained how frustrated I felt to go one step forward then pushed two steps back. "That's how life is," he shrugged. "It's been happening to me all my life." I got this sinking feeling. And the unmistakable feeling of losing hope. Why bother? If I am just going to be shot down every single time, why bother trying to get ahead? What the fuck is the point of any of it?
I told my dad later that what he said really made me lose all hope. "That is just how my life is," he said, "I am sure that yours will be different." I was not convinced.
I had bounced a check. Eventually I figured out that I had made a math error six months ago, and it wasn't a problem until now. I was freaking out. The check was paid, it was only $35 fee, I got paid the next day and everything was okay. But I was having a panic attack.
I called my mom. All I wanted was someone to say that it wasn't a big deal. That it was going to be alright. "Holy shit!" exclaimed my mom. "You need to find out why this happened and make sure it NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN! Next time it could be worse. WAY WORSE!" Needless to say this did not help calm my panicking. She was telling me why all the ways I organize my finances were wrong and how they all had to be changed. Right. Now.
Later I told her that she made my panic attack worse. She did not understand. She said, "You called me with a problem and I tried to help you solve it."
Today Ryder had some evaluations at the school. They asked me all of the normal questions, but I didn't know the answers to all of them. "When was his tubes put in his ears?" Uhhh... 11 months? "How many other children are in day care?" Uhhhh... between two and seven? "He sounds congested, has he had a cold?" Uhhhh... no? "Does he know his colors?" Uhhh.... I don't know.
I felt like a shitty mom. Shouldn't I know all the answers to these questions? So I called my mom. "Well, most people do know the answers to all of those questions. Most people know what age the child achieved all his milestones." I told her right away that that doesn't help at all. "Whatever," she replied.
I don't know why I keep going to them for comfort.