Well here I am, crying, like I do everyday now, hurting like I do everyday, everyday since 2005 it’s just the pain is so much more worse. I should be trying to do so many other things than this blog, but I can’t find the whatever I need to find to do any of it. There are so many things that need to be done before my surgery it is not even funny. I have come to find out that I miss cleaning. Don’t ever take anything for granted, even cleaning because you may come to miss it one day, of course I have always loved to clean. I used to be a little OCD about it, but not anymore and that has been hard to break.
I am crying though because I am jealous and alone, lonely, and feel like I am a baseball widow. I don’t like baseball anymore. It scares me that it is so easy for me to say that, I used to love it, I loved nothing more than being out there cheering my son on, being in the dugout, helping out where ever I could. Going to watch games that my son did not even play in. Cheering on our home team in the LLWS, but not anymore. I don’t like it. Why you ask? Well, because I am always alone thanks to baseball. I mean my husband has to work, I understand that, and my son wants to play ball, I understand that and he wants his dad to coach, so I understand that too, but they are at the ballpark all the time. Yes, sometimes I tell them to go so he does not resent me and sometimes I tell them or him to go because I am in such an ill mood that I feel it is best for no one to be around me but for the most part he just goes and I feel left out and neglected and it is making HATE baseball. I only made it to two of my sons ball games this year….TWO and I feel awful because of that. So I beat myself up because I hate baseball, when I was a softball player for years and my son is just taking after me. I beat myself up because I feel this way when actually my hubby is doing no difference than he does any other year.
Then I am jealous, jealous of my son and my hubby, jealous because they get to go out, jealous because they get to sleep “normal” hours, jealous because they do not know the physical pain I suffer. I can’t even ride in the car. Just riding in the car to my mailbox kills me. I am jealous of other people too for being able to go out and do things. I know the old saying that someone somewhere else has got it worse than I do and frankly I hate that saying because if anyone has ever suffered anything than they know that they saying does not mean a hill of beans to you when you are the one suffering at the moment. Then I beat myself up for being jealous at my own son and my own hubby. I hate that I am jealous of them. I hate that during the night I look at them sleeping at get mad cause they are sleeping.
I feel like a failure. I used to be Supermom, even when I was sick or in pain, I would still clean, cook, do the dishes, get up with my son in the mornings and take him to school. I was in school myself and I would do my school work, when I had a job I would go to work, I worked from home. I would help my son with his schoolwork and projects, make sure he always had lunch money, every fundraiser was done. All the bills got paid on time, the checkbook was kept up with, the computers were always running great (I am a computer whiz and geek), I would be a team mom, handle everything with that, be a room mom and handle everything with that, go to the school for everything event that took place, I did this with my older son as well, who will be 20 tomorrow..wow. Now I am on the couch, I can’t clean, cook, the bills are getting paid late, I can’t work, thank God I graduated last year or I would not be able to do that. I can’t take my son to school, heck, I can’t even get up with him in the mornings, he has to remind several times about his lunch money, the computers don’t always run top notch, we don’t even have a check register anymore, I am not up at the school all the time, I was team mom but I had to have help from my hubby to do things. I can’t even think like I used to. I feel like a complete failure because I can’t do all the things I used to do.