We all buy into myths sometimes, and while not all myths harm us, some of the ones I fall for cause me grief of my own making, grief I want to shed. I am going to try to remember and learn, reframe and redirect, change my prism, breathe, accept. Do you buy into false myths too? Share yours if you want to; here are mine:
- Everyone else's families are happier than mine.
- There are heroes out there waiting to make it all better.
- If only this or that happens, THEN things will be better.
- If I worry about something enough or the right way, I can prevent it from happening.
- If I am happy, I will be punished.
- I need to apologize for my son's autism.
- Other people are perfect, but I am not good enough.
- My husband is out of my league.
- I can't handle the hand I've been dealt.
By the way, that lazy, irresponsible girl who never could manage to show up to work to be my rooster's shadow? That girl without whom he couldn't go to school? The one with the attitude and the smirk who had car troubles today right after feeling under the weather right after having strep right after having a bad back right after having a migraine right after having a car accident right after having an important meeting right after the stomach bug right after some other lie? I never have to see her again. And I am glad. If we have to hire a sitter at $150 a day (no, that doesn't seem affordable to us; who does have room in their budget for that?) for the last few weeks of school, I will take that over any more of HER. Today was the last day I drove my child to school, watched him start a good day, only to get her lame excuse, and have to work out with my husband which of us would miss work. They say they are sending someone reliable now, but the bridges are burned, and I hold little hope, and am ready to pull the plug if I need to, because it should not have taken me going postal mama bear for an organization that works with autistic children to step up to the plate. He is a little boy, and he deserves to go to school. She not only didn't help him, she was a detriment to our family, to my sanity, to the Rooster's stability through her inconsistency and her flakiness. She needs to go back to her previous Starbucks job where the only thing that happens when she's out is someone else makes the latte. The thing that bothers me most? They wouldn't even say they are firing her. They are just reassigning her chronically absent butt to some other poor kid somewhere. Shame, shame.
In a perfect world, she and her superiors would learn a lesson from this. But the world is not perfect. That is another myth, but not one that has ever fooled me.
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Two kids, two full time careers - lots of people do it gracefully, but for me it's a challenge, particularly as I struggle with my boy, the rooster, and his "constellation" of health and developmental issues. Medicine so far fails to cure what ails us, so I'm trying a self-prescribed intensive dose of blogging to see if that does the trick.
2 comments:
My myths:
I will go to a hell I don't even believe in. It will be filled by clones of my MIL and FIL, and they will drone on and on about their myths for all eternity.
I will someday find out that I really did cause Foster's autism and Reilly's brain tumor.
I won't find a new job.
We will lose our house.
We will lose everything, even though we didn't have much to begin with.
I will die before my children.
My children will die before me.
It's all my fault - all of it.
I will become just like my angry, drunk father.
People will someday realize what a worthless failure I am.
...
enough pity party?
love.
I am reading "love what is" that challenges the myths, the stories we write for ourselves. It's hard work, is what it is, to unravel that stuff. So hard to wrap my head around.
but....I am SO glad to hear that you kicked the lazy one to the curb. It makes me sad as well that a) you had to really raise your voice about this to clue them in, and b) she'll just go somewhere else and make another family miserable. I hope her replacement is someone absolutely wonderful. AND reliable.
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