(originally written 12/13/17)


I’ve felt guilty about leaving you guys (my like, 5 regular readers) hanging last Thursday. That night was filled with dumb tears (tears really are dumb, aren’t they? Like what do they accomplish?) and emotions and other things that left me too handicapped to dedicate any of my time to anything other than a pity party.

Today I was graced with a lot of small wins. A lot of small wins that any normal person would grab with both hands and swear something awesome was in store. But to the sceptic? To the person who’s fucked up small wins enough times to know a small win is only a small win until it becomes something greater? These small wins are could-be future benefits (which present-me is too well-versed to raise her hopes too soon).

So here we are again, in a state of pity. MIGHT AS WELL THROW ANOTHER DAMN PARTY (because who doesn’t love parties, right?)!

I’m going to share tonight’s feelings with you guys – not because I want you to join my party, but because if you can relate, if I can reach one person who feels alone in his or her feelings – then hopefully after this post you’ll at least feel like someone is in your corner.

(I also want to note that on a normal day I’m really not this emotional or sceptic or self-deprecating. Sure, I probably have more moments than most, but I think it’s safe to say that I am happier than I’ve ever been, with more self-respect, determination, and motivation than I’ve ever had, ever. So take this post for what it is – a human’s doubts in a world of uncertainty).

I swear I will actually talk about diapers or my TULSA DIAPER SERVICE (hint hint) or something similar at some point. But for now, you get to feel my feelers and that’s all there is to it.

Thank you, and enjoy (or feel insanely uncomfortable the entire time you read this. Good luck!)

Chapter I: Failure

Undergraduate: magna cum laude, plus some special honor that I don’t remember

Master’s degree: dean’s list

Three years teaching experience

Two years administration experience

Etcetera etcetera etcetera

Current feeling: failure

Secondary feeling: uncertainty

Constant priority: Cheeky, Jr.

Current concerns (more like stream of consciousness?):

  • Will I ever be in a position to pay my bills and also put healthy food on the table in the same week?
  • Is it possible to get recognition for a job I invest too entirely?
  • Why can’t I figure out how to complete all the tasks I give myself for one day?
  • Am I giving myself too many tasks?
  • What is this dull pain in my boob?
  • Will government insurance pay for that?
  • Why do I feel like nothing is getting done, ever?
  • Why does my body and mind require so much sleep?
  • Do I have cancer?
  • What about some other disease?
  • Am I dying quicker than other people my age for some reason or another?
  • Is it acceptable to resent successful people sometimes?
  • If my priority was success rather than quality time with family, who would show Cheeky, Jr. that he’s important?
  • Who would build a foundation of trust and love and the importance of strong relationships?
  • What is the point of resentment?
  • I found another gray hair.
  • Owning a business is difficult.
  • Will I ever acquire customers?
  • Am I fucking up my child?
  • Is this one of those dynamics where I’m literally the only person who thinks my kid is cute and everyone else thinks he’s annoying AF?
  • Failing
  • Failing
  • Failing
  • Can’t follow a checklist.
  • Failing.
  • Can’t keep up with friends.
  • Failing.
  • Hate myself.
  • Failing.
  • I’m in the bath and Cheeky, Jr. is crying.
  • Failing.
  • Why can’t I get him to fucking stay asleep?
  • Failing.

Ugh, you get it.

Chapter II: Just drink the fucking water

Is anyone else out there scared? Obviously not everyone is worried about financial freedom or “success” (like, what is success, really?), or family, or fucking checklists. Everyone has their own issues, their own struggles.

Understanding that other people have emotions and obstacles and fears is difficult sometimes, too. It’s easy to assume I’m the only one on this earth with issues, and ‘your’ life is perfect (those in glass houses, right? No, no, that’s not the saying. I think that’s pretty much opposite of the point I’m trying to get across. Whatever, you understand.. people ain’t perfect, yada yada yada).

And this leads me to my next point, which is easier said than exercised:

Rudy Francisco said, “It doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty, you have water in your cup so fucking drink it.”

And he’s so totally right, right? I have a roof over my head and a baby who loves me and a supportive family. I have a job, which is a job which is a job. I have motivation to succeed, whether I’m succeeding right this very second or not. I’m not in jail, I’m fed, I’m healthy, DHS isn’t on my ass for being a shitty parent. Life is, comparatively, GOOD (when considering less fortunate folks in this world – in this state – in this CITY – I’m doin’ alright, right? Right!).

So where’s the disconnect? Why can’t I exercise Rudy Francisco’s insanely great advice to just drink the fucking water?

I don’t know.

Priorities? Emotions derived from hormones?

Fuck you, hormones.

Chapter III: My hope for you

May your days be filled with optimism.

(My Anti-climactic) Conclusion

Happy Tuesday, Folks.

The End

-Momma Cheeks