Navel Gazing, v. 2.0
Feb. 13th, 2012 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
femkes_folliesI had a bit of an oddball conversation with Dad this weekend. The more so because it was fairly brief. Somewhat out of the blue he remarked to me that I didn't seem all that happy with what I do for a living.
This is, in fact, the case. Not because I made the conscious decision to do something lucrative when I wanted to do something else. (Goodness knows, if I'd been in it for the money, I'd have chosen something other than vet med.) But because there really wasn't anything that I did (or do) want to do that outshone everything else.
I conceded the point.
Dad commenced to explain that a lot of the need to please parents with career choice was a big Dutch thing. (Also true). And that he'd tried hard not to do that to us. And he was still keeping his mouth shut.
Which sort of implies he has opinions about what I SHOULD be doing that he thinks would either A. Make me happier or B. Ease some of John and I's financial distress.
I'm now wishing he HAD shared. I get that he doesn't want me to feel pressured to follow his suggestions. (And I would.) But if it's a good one, dangit....
I'm torn. At the moment, I'm a little lost. Gone are all the "accomplishment" brain chemicals that came from costuming stuff and the positive feedback I got for it. And, let's face it, that world is just intimately tied up with the SCA. Interacting with it much to speak of just tends to make my teeth clench in rage. I need to be done.
But there is nothing currently to fill the void. Yes, I've got the blog, and the baking. But that only goes so far.
Plus there is the fact that Personal Fulfillment(TM) is a bit of a myth anyway and so far down my priority list given that my girls are... as they are. Pursuit of that just feels... guilty.
I was hoping (in some narcotic-induced dream state, no doubt) that Irish Dance might help fill my hours and days and give Anneliese something to succeed at. And I still intend to take her to her lessons iwth Megan (if she doesn't back out on me like Katy did), and try to see if she can handle the class again come fall. But it's more a 1-hour a week thing, and that's likely all it will ever be.
So I'm having one of those "I wish my children were normal" wallows. Which isn't going to happen, and isn't healthy to obsess about and I'm usually pretty immune from that tar pit. But now and again I sort of get on the hamster wheel. Would they be more "normal" if I pushed harder on the academics? What if I trotted them around to every neurologist in the state? (Difficult, what with the no health insurance thing...) And around and around, and on and on.
The number one item on my "wish list" for life would be normalcy (or at least closer to it) for my girls.
Everything else is miles down the list. Which makes it hard to even try to decide what I'd like to do.
*sigh*
This is, in fact, the case. Not because I made the conscious decision to do something lucrative when I wanted to do something else. (Goodness knows, if I'd been in it for the money, I'd have chosen something other than vet med.) But because there really wasn't anything that I did (or do) want to do that outshone everything else.
I conceded the point.
Dad commenced to explain that a lot of the need to please parents with career choice was a big Dutch thing. (Also true). And that he'd tried hard not to do that to us. And he was still keeping his mouth shut.
Which sort of implies he has opinions about what I SHOULD be doing that he thinks would either A. Make me happier or B. Ease some of John and I's financial distress.
I'm now wishing he HAD shared. I get that he doesn't want me to feel pressured to follow his suggestions. (And I would.) But if it's a good one, dangit....
I'm torn. At the moment, I'm a little lost. Gone are all the "accomplishment" brain chemicals that came from costuming stuff and the positive feedback I got for it. And, let's face it, that world is just intimately tied up with the SCA. Interacting with it much to speak of just tends to make my teeth clench in rage. I need to be done.
But there is nothing currently to fill the void. Yes, I've got the blog, and the baking. But that only goes so far.
Plus there is the fact that Personal Fulfillment(TM) is a bit of a myth anyway and so far down my priority list given that my girls are... as they are. Pursuit of that just feels... guilty.
I was hoping (in some narcotic-induced dream state, no doubt) that Irish Dance might help fill my hours and days and give Anneliese something to succeed at. And I still intend to take her to her lessons iwth Megan (if she doesn't back out on me like Katy did), and try to see if she can handle the class again come fall. But it's more a 1-hour a week thing, and that's likely all it will ever be.
So I'm having one of those "I wish my children were normal" wallows. Which isn't going to happen, and isn't healthy to obsess about and I'm usually pretty immune from that tar pit. But now and again I sort of get on the hamster wheel. Would they be more "normal" if I pushed harder on the academics? What if I trotted them around to every neurologist in the state? (Difficult, what with the no health insurance thing...) And around and around, and on and on.
The number one item on my "wish list" for life would be normalcy (or at least closer to it) for my girls.
Everything else is miles down the list. Which makes it hard to even try to decide what I'd like to do.
*sigh*