Martyrdom

My ex-husband used to accuse me of being a martyr and I consistently rebuked the term: I don't purposefully look for suffering . But this morning my mother, after listening to me whine about the chaos of these last few days, asked me, "Why do you do this to yourself?" and I didn't really have an answer. Some of it is inescapable. I have two papers for my online ED291 class due today, an earlier due date than I had expected after several days of no internet at home. My friend is hosting a farewell bbq tonight. My daughter wants to visit her friend's horseback riding class one last time. Both kids have to go to my parents' home for the night. Early tomorrow morning I have to catch a bus to the airport for a flight to Sacramento (via Seattle). The only thing I can really get out of is the riding class, but I feel like the loving mom, the good mom is the one who goes out of her way to make her children happy. I need to do it.

I have given up on the hope of getting the painting in the living room finished and I probably won't get around to making that other dress, but I have some clothing alterations that I promised for other people. I've got re-writes and critiques for my WR290 class to finish. I have to find another piece of luggage to pack all these clothes for the orphans in. I have to scrub the bathroom and mop the floor. Plus work everyday and have dinner with family, then friends, then housemates.

The schedule is so full, it's overflowing the pages of my planner onto sticky notes. And then the next week...it's empty. This is just the chaos before the calm. I think I'll make it through okay and with passing (if not stellar) grades. I'll finish my classes and I'll say goodbye to friends. And maybe someday I won't feel so much like a mouse on a wheel, always chasing after something I can't quite see.