How I Really Feel

Today, I'm stressed. Very. Stressed. I shouldn't be taking the time out of my day to write this post, and yet I am. I need the breather from what I'm doing. So here I am. Typing and stressing.

So here is the thing. What I want to be doing right now is screaming at the top of my lungs.

This morning, as I was driving to work (yes driving...because once again the fucking bus didn't have enough seats and I couldn't wait any longer for the next bus). So as I was driving, I was listening to Pink. Very, very loudly. And I realized that I was bombing down the road, driving at 80-90 miles per hour, weaving in and out of traffic. I was, in fact, driving like a fucking maniac. All the while I was praying that the cops didn't see me and make me more late. And as I'm doing this, I'm realizing that I will not be able to leave work tonight before 7-8 PM (if I'm lucky) and that means that I won't be able to see my daughter or my wife before they go to bed. And I'll come home to a messy house, with dishes to do. I'll walk in exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sit out on my front porch and smoke a joint (there, I said it) and drink a beer. And I won't do either of those things. Instead, I'll do the dishes, clean up, scoop the poop, prep Bailey and Kelly's meals for tomorrow, and maybe watch 5 minutes of late-night news. Around 11:30 or so, I'll drag myself into bed, exhausted from a day that started at 5:30 this morning and my alarm will go off at 4 AM tomorrow. And I won't have hugged my daughter. I won't have participated in her bath. I won't have loved my wife.

So I was thinking about all of this, bombing down the road to a job I don't want to be at right now, and wondering who the fuck I'm supposed to get everything done. I mean, really. How? How am I supposed to be everything to everybody? And who the fuck is anyone to me? I mean, honestly, if I'm not taking care of me and nobody else is taking care of me (this is not to snap at Kelly, she's pregnant. She's off the hook, but it does leave me high and dry), then how I am supposed to get my needs met.

What I need is a break. A real fucking break. No work. No commute. No Bailey. No Kelly. No noise. No thought. No needs that I can or can't meet. No chores. No dishes. No cats. No bills and plans for the future. Nothing. Me. Alone. By the ocean. For at least a day. I need a chance to regroup, recenter, rejuvenate my very, very tired self.

And what I was really thinking as I was crazy-driving this morning is that no matter how much I may need it, I'm not going to get it. Because my needs are not important right now. And even if they are important, they are secondary to everyone else's needs and I just have to fucking deal with it.