What am I doing here?

I spent over an hour last night writing what I thought would be my next post to my blog, but when I got done it just felt too phony and edited. It's hard to write like me when I know other people are going to be reading it. I felt like I was writing like it's a paper for school. I used bigger words and better sentence structure and tried harder to connect my ideas so they flow. I think I spent too much time teaching the five paragraph essay to third and fourth graders who need to pass the CMT. I want to write because I like to mull thing over and vent and comment and hear myself talk. And even as I type "hear myself talk" I can "hear" every smart ass Grattan out there zinging me back with "How can you hear yourself talk if you're typing words? Must be a magic keyboard" or other quips more clever than I am able to come up with. But that's the point of this thing. I want to be able to just write what I want to write, whatever the hell pops into my head, even if it doesn't make sense or have proper spelling or grammar. Even if I contradict myself, make shit up  and change my mind a thousand times. I'm not Judy Blume or Ann Frank or Carrie Bradshaw. I can only be me and write the way I know how about the things I think and feel. So I'm giving myself permission to completely suck at this. But at least I'm going to enjoy it and the older I get the more important that is. The older I get the more I want to feel validated and connected and feel like I'm not as crazy as I think or as alone in my confusion over living and life as I fear.  So I'm going to put stuff out there for you to read. Interpret it any way you want. Agree or disagree. Tell me I'm nuts or tell me I'm the smartest, most insightful human in the literary world today! Or just be a voyeur into my take on the world and stay completely anonymous. Whatever works for you. Just knowing I'm putting this out there makes me feel a little more alive and a little less alone. I won't solve any of the world's problem. I can't even solve my own. But I sure can talk alot. And they say you should always start with what you're good at.  We all know for me its waaaayyy over thinking things and running my mouth off about it.  When I write I can just be who I want to be in the moment. Sometimes it's the best part of who I want to become. Other times I'm a crappy whiney bitchy mess.  Most of the time it's a combination of both. When I was doing this the old fashioned way, I would pick up a pen and start writing because I had something on my mind that I needed to work out. I would start at one place and often end up taking a completely different trip. And I damn well have to believe it's about the journey not the destination because I have no idea where I'm going, and the why of it has to be something I'm supposed to be learning along the way. Frankly I feel like I've been schooled by life long and hard enough and the lessons could stop any fucking time now.  But apparently my thick skull just hasn't let through whatever it is I need to know to get on with my life and make things better. So if any of you notice something I'm missing, save me the trouble of learning it the hardest most inconvenient expensive way possible and just point it out to me so I can get out of this mess and get back to living. So while I'm on the topic of living, let's just really get into it and go there. See, this is the shit I was talking about. I start out in one direction and end up down a totally different road. Living. I don't know how to do it anymore. All the old beliefs have shattered. I was brought up with a very narrow view of how life was supposed to be lived, what was accepted, expected and equalled success.  Now I am completely rebelling against those old school values. Not because I don't necessarily believe them, but because I felt like they were forced on me without me even knowing there were other ways to live besides get good grades, go to college, get a job, a husband, kids, a house in the suburbs, take care of your yard, take your vacations, save for retirement, then die. It all feels so prepackaged and preplanned. I tried to be a good kid and do what I was taught to do. And all you chuckle heads who know my high school and college and beyond stories, just remember that I may have been a party girl, I may have played at being the thoughtful brooding poetic type, but I always went to school and work and church and family events. I've always felt torn between those two sides of my personality. Like I had to choose one or the other and deny the other half of myself. Now that I'm older I don't care so much about what anyone else thinks. But early in life I chose the traditional and now I don't know how to meet the responsibilities of that choice and still feel like I'm living life on my terms and experiencing things the way way I want to. Even knowing all I know know, going through all the shit I have gone through in the past couple of years, I would not wish any of it back. Three ultra-important reasons: Meaghan, Ryan, Sean. They are why I want to get this right now. Otherwise I could just keep fucking up my life indefinitely. But I want to give them a chance to make lives of their own on their terms. I don't have money to buy them all the usual trappings of the life I thought we were going to have. I don't even have the money to but them the real basic necessities most people never ever ever think about. Times are tough, there's no denying.  And you may not have been able to take that vacation you wanted, or buy anything new for the house this year. Maybe it's harder than that for you. Maybe you weren't able to shop for new clothes the way you used to or buy your family gifts like you used to. maybe birthdays and Christmas were slim pickings. Maybe it's worse than that. Maybe you have some credit card debt hanging over your head. Maybe you have no college fund and don't know how you're kids will afford an education. Maybe the car is getting older and you don't know what you'll do when it needs new tires or a major repair. There are so many levels of how hard it's been for people. And every time you think it can't get worse, it will. Guaranteed.  My reality has become this: I make about $200 a week at my part time job. I get $400 a month food stamps and oil assistance in the winter. I haven't paid the mortgage in a year and a half. It's only a matter of time til the bank forecloses. I don't make enough to rent anywhere. We are about to be homeless and I don't know what to do. Until then, though, I pay $50 a week on my '98 Kia that is going to blow the catalytic convertor any day now.  I am on a payment plan of $25 a week with the electric company, and  I'm supposed to pay the regular monthly bill on top of that and of course there's just not enough left over to do it so that's overdue as well.  I'm going to have my water shut off if don't come up with some money for them soon. I haven't had a real shower all summer because we don't have enough oil in the tank for hot water and I think it needs repair anyway because there is some oil but it still won't run.  We take pioneer baths - heat up hot water on the stove, carry it up to the bathroom, mix it with cold and use a large cup to pour it over ourselves to rinse off. It's amazing, really, how little water you actually need to wash and condition your hair, wash your face and body, shave your legs and still dump a big warm bucket of water over yourself at the end. Makes me wonder at the wastefulness we take for granted when we hop in that steamy shower. Of course, I would love to run a whole tank dry and get all pruney just once before the first snowfall. My mom gave me some money to get oil but I had to pay my home and auto insurance or I would lose them, and I know I'll never have the money or find anyone else stupid enough to insure me if I lose this contract. We have tv only when my ex pays his satellite tv bill because he gave us one of his access cards for our receiver. We can't pay for garbage pick-up so we haul it to the dump for $2 a bag, when I have the time and the $2 bucks. Yuck!  We don't have a home phone, and I get keep paying just enough on my cell phone bill to get it turned back on every time it gets shut off.  We go to the library to use the internet and print school work, and we are occasionally lucky enough to tap into someone's non-password protected wireless internet connection in our neighborhood. We haven't gotten the braces or contacts that the kids or I need. Not sure Meaghan will take dance class for her final year of HS because we still owe money from last year and certainly can't afford this year's tuition. We put off haircuts and hair color as long as possible because it means we don't pay a bill to afford those luxuries. We don't even think about new clothes or shoes. Even clearance t-shirts w/ my employee discount can cost too much at $3.75 when we run out of things like toothpaste and shampoo and toilet paper and laundry detergent and we have to wait until payday to buy them and decide what we'll go without another week  or month or forever  to pay for those things. We're not sure the needle on the gas gauge goes all the way to full because we put $5 or $10 in at a time because you only get what you absolutely need and will use before the next paycheck. So yeah, there's a thousand little things I stress about every day. but they are a welcome distraction form the big picture. The big picture is too much for coping skills. I told my mom last night that I feel like a failure. That I let a whole year go by in a deep depression over the whole teaching thing and was just not able to help myself or my kids.  I'm sure I frustrate the hell out of my family and friends because we all know all I have to do is keep fighting, keep trying, keep being that strong woman everyone keeps telling me I am. I used to believe it. And when I did, I accomplished great things. But I used up all my fight. I ran out of juice just when I needed it the most. I know I frustrate the hell out of myself. Every day I say today is the day I'm going to do it. I'm going to snap out of it and tackle this situation and make it better. But I never do. I expend an incredible amount of subconscious energy keeping myself in denial. And when life intrudes too strongly and slaps me upside the head with a solid dose of reality, I scrape together the smallest portion of effort and money possible to fix the immediate threat and then crawl right back in my hole to hide from a world I no longer feel like I have a place in. There's a tiny cooling ember barely burning deep in a well protected chamber of my soul that is the only hope I cling to. I vaguely remember the old me who had hopes and dreams and goals and took action and kicked ass and wouldn't be shut down. She was a blast.  Unfortunately life isn't a fairy tale and the princess isn't locked in a chamber waiting for a prince to rescue her or a magic potion to awaken her.  And no amount of writing is going to make a happy ending appear out of nowhere.  I can't write my way into a winning lottery ticket or being discovered as the next great author of the 21st century. I can't make a judge award me all the back child support I am owed or make employers hire me. And even though I couldn't have written my wonderful boyfriend into the story, it was just an amazing surprise gift from a God who must have know how much we needed each other,  love still doesn't conquer all. It sure helps, but it isn't the only answer. The only thing that's going to help me is me. I need to find the strength I'm pretty sure I don't have left and blow on that ember and light a fire under my ass and get my shit together. Big words for a big task. I feel like it's past the point of one thing at a time, one day at a time. I've always hated my procrastination. If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would ever get done. Usually I work well under pressure. I get inspired and fearless and can produce brilliantly under extreme duress. But that's just term papers and house cleaning and fundraisers and Halloween costumes. This is so much larger and important and scarier.  I should break it down into small manageable tasks and just do one thing at time. But it's all so interconnected and intertwined. Every decision is tied to every other decision. I feel like I need a magic wand, a masterful scheme, a miracle drug, one grand sweeping gesture that will fix everything. What I hate to consider is that it all may be beyond repair. Walking away and just completely starting over are not even options. I have kids who need me to make this work somehow. And I haven't got the tiniest fucking clue how to do that. HOLY CRAP!!! I really didn't mean to write all this. Now I'm sitting here wondering if I have the balls to post it, swear words, brutal honesty and all. Hmmmm...I guess if you're reading this you know the answer.