I'm In A Funk

I’m in a funk. Surprised? I can’t imagine a single reason why you would be. What’s bad is, I KNOW I’m in a funk. I KNOW I am not the most pleasant person to be around right now, but I can’t figure a way out of this funk.

Some of it is legitimate complaint. While I don’t wish to spend my days complaining and groaning and moaning about now effed up life is, sometimes I can’t figure out how on earth I’m supposed to NOT complain. The truth is I have four grown children who in some way each tear my guts out and stomp on them nearly every day.

The oldest one, we’ll call him “C”, is fixin’ to get married. Like in just a few days. Like in 25ish days. He lives in NYC with his adorable fiancé and I couldn’t be happier for him. Truly I couldn’t. But – this out of state and in NYC wedding is costing me a fortune that I don’t have and it is really painful. I want him to be happy, I really do. More than anything on earth I want him to be happy. But it is super hard to come up with the money it takes just to get my carcass there to attend the wedding, let alone clothes etc. I’m so stressed about it I can’t hardly stand myself.

The next one – we’ll call her “K”, she is the most ungrateful little snot I have ever encountered. And I can’t understand how that happened. I thought I taught my kids how to treat people. I thought I taught them how to be grateful for what you have, and how to work hard for what you don’t. But she is ENTITLED. Just ask her. Whatever she needs that she doesn’t have, she thinks I am supposed to provide for her. And if I don’t – there is HELL to pay. HELL. She can make me feel like crap in nothing flat. And she will. Every chance she gets. Because she wants to be treated like an adult, but she damn sure doesn’t want to act like one.

The next one, we’ll call him “A” – he is just plain effed up. He has a mental illness. And I’m not making excuses for him. It just is what it is. He has a mental illness, the medicine isn’t working, his wife is pregnant, she only works part time, he can’t keep a job, they don’t have two pots to pee in, and yet – they won’t do what is necessary to stay out of a homeless shelter. Because they think. . . I don’t know what they think. I just know that they aren’t thinking STRAIT. That’s for sure. And I cry nearly every night because my Grandson doesn’t stand a chance of a normal life until these two pull their heads out of their asses.

The youngest one, we’ll call him “B” – he is the only one that doesn’t make me crazy on a daily basis. However – he never calls, never just drops by, never just says “hey Ma” unless he wants something. Like, to use my washer and dryer, to borrow games or movies or tools, or some other item he doesn’t own. He can’t just say “hey Ma” just to say it. It is attached with a want or a need that he needs me to fulfill.

And yes. I realize such is the life of a parent. That you never stop being a parent just because they are grown. I know. I get it. But when do they stop expecting you to take CARE OF THEM? They are all hell fire bent on moving out, but they by gosh don’t expect to have to put the effort in to taking care of them selves. When is it MY turn? To just do what I want and not have to worry that one – or all – of them will need money or time or attention from me? When do I get to be the one demanding things? Expecting things? Ever?

Not likely.