Home » It’s Not Up to You. Because I Can. . .Or Could. . .And Will. (If I Want)

It’s Not Up to You. Because I Can. . .Or Could. . .And Will. (If I Want)

It’s been a long time. . .Sorry.  I have precious little time. . .Which is why I’ll just throw myself head first unceremoniously into this corner of the Internet and Go! (Slightly crazy on you).

Chris and I seldom argue.  Sure, we get grumpy with one another at times.  Yet after nearly two decades together and two kids, and a lot of adventures, we know our roles, we understand our responsibilities, we are on the same page with our lifestyle, our finances. . .all that boring shit.

When we have a spare moment – to dream, or to think about the future it usually involves a very quiet moment huddled in our basement bedroom slurping salsa and watching a bad 80’s movie on one of the three TV channels we get.

For the most part, we’re on the same page.

At least I thought we were on the same page. . .

And then one night, in a slightly whiskey-induced, Throw Mama From the Train, fog I told Chris I thought I would love to be a National Park Ranger 0r work with Audubon once the kids got older:

“When I was in College, I loved doing the Science outreach. . .and I like history. . .and I’m articulate. ..and now that I have kids, I realize I like kids.  Sure it won’t pay much but it feels like a good fit for me.”  I gushed.  (Mostly Drunk but being completely fearless in my honest desires and dreams.)

Chris:  “Deni, you’ll never get a job like that.  You need degrees you don’t have.  There are tests you have to take.” (and perhaps he also silently insinuated that I’m too old for a lot of those positions).

He likely didn’t mean it to come out that way. . .

But it did.

And it hit me in the gut like all the times my Mother told me when I was a kid,  I had “such a pretty face, if only I could lose ten pounds.”

It hurt.

SO MUCH INSECURITY CAME FLOODING BACK:  They didn’t think I could do it.  As if I wasn’t ENOUGH.

As if I wasn’t good enough already, with an undergraduate emphasis in environmental policy, and a law degree also having passed the Bar on the first try, and a very muscular 147 pounds who can hurdle baby gates in a single bound and give the fiercest hug on the planet, and take away a world of hurt with some Aquaphor and a kiss.  

I crumpled inside and I wallowed.

These people who are supposed to love me the most still find me lacking or don’t believe in me despite all that I’ve done. . .all that I do. . .What must my kids think?  How do I prove myself?    

I wallowed.

I wallowed in 80 calorie cheese slices slathered in mayo.

And I wallowed (very happily, I’ll admit) in laundry, and chores, and all that other shit I did at this time of the evening. . .because I was beginning to consider the possibility that all I had to offer was housekeeping, cooking, laundry services to my family.

I even wallowed joyfully in my own CHILDREN.  (Somebody might be a bit of a helicopter – or worse – parent).  (BUT THEY’RE SO CUTE AND I WANT TO BE WITH THEM ALWAYS BEFORE THEY HATE ME!)

FINALLY, I wallowed until I felt something else;  DESIRE, AND INSPIRATION, AND FREEDOM.

Maybe you just need to start typing again?

Maybe it doesn’t matter if it makes sense?

Maybe just type?

Maybe you should listen to the underlying messages those who love you the most are offering?  Maybe they aren’t meant to be hurtful?

Maybe my Husband didn’t think being a park ranger would make me happy?  Maybe he thinks I’m better suited for something else?  Maybe he can see something in me I can’t?  Maybe Mom thought that being a little overweight would be bad for my health?

Maybe they have higher hopes for me?  Or see something in me, I’m not yet capable of seeing?

I should embrace that.  Challenge myself.

What do I honestly have to prove to anyone else?  Even to those I love the most?

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

It’s not up to them.

It’s up to me.

And I can.

And I will.

And my kids deserve to learn from my example.

I can’t promise I’ll be here every day, but I’m hoping to be around a lot more.

It keeps the wallows away.