1:24 a.m. - 2013-10-30
workaholic
All I ever do is study and work. I don't socialize. I don't think. I haven't been on Facebook in months. My e-mail in-box is boring. My outbox is worse.
I don't read d-land diaries. I don't read comments. I read up on enterotubes instead.
I don't think I am a very good mother, friend, partner or person. I am very single-minded and obsessive about work, school, and projects in general. I obsess. I obsess about the one question I got wrong on the exam. Two questions is worse. How could I be so stupid?
I obsess about things I think I can control, like my grades and my weight. I obsess about my kids, too, but mostly I obsess about what a lousy mother I am and I feel powerless to be a good enough mother. I like things with predictable results, like tests. Children are very unpredictable. I don't understand how they behave, I can't control it, and it seems like everything I do backfires. I feel guilty all the time. All The Time.
No matter how much attention I give them, it is never enough. And I dread giving it because I know it won't be enough. That makes me a lousy mother, doesn't it? I'm not a horrible mother, I know that -- my kids are safe, loved, valued, hugged and kissed and praised -- but I am pretty sure they know that I don't find parenting easy, or a source of boundless joy.
I feel guilty about A because all A wants is me, and she is not all I want. Yes, I want her, always -- but I also want Paris, Ecuador, and Sudan, a perfect GPA, languages, to write a book, to save some lives. I wouldn't feel fulfilled if our happy family was all I had. I should. I am ungrateful and reaching, I suppose. Maybe I'll reach too far and study too hard and lose everything.
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