“I hate my life.”

Disclaimer: I actually DO NOT hate my life; I love the major parts of it, dislike some minor things, and periodically wish I could rewrite or relive aspects of my personal history. However, I heard someone say that today, and as always it’s was like fingernails scaping on chalkboard and has me grinding my teeth in frustration.

Unhappy? Frustrated? Impatient? Heartbroken? Grieving a loss? Sad because you are not where you want to be? I have experience all those things and can understand completely. Life happens and it is not always pleasant.

But to say you hate your life? I really cannot understand that. It’s far too broad, too general, too flippant and too casually stated – tossed off like a tagline on a blog. If that came from the mouths of any of my children or closest friends I would immediately begin cataloging the many positive aspects of their lives and pointedly asking if they hated those things? If not, how can you make such a blanket statement? And I would be upset, really upset. Because I am part of their lives. Do you hate me too? Is my influence burdensome and adding to your trauma drama?

Yes, I suppose I feel rather passionately about this.

My admin says this periodically, when something is not going her way. She says it a lot less around me, because it does draw a strong reaction that is apparent in my expression even if I do not utter a sound in response.

She says it because the perfect children she desire are actually imperfect human beings with desires and needs and wants of their own that do not mirror her plans and schemes.

She says it because each of us only gets 24 hours per day and she is “so busy” with extremely flexible part-time job, kids’ school, kids’ extracurricular activities, church – all of which (except the job) she must be actively engaged with and preferably in a leadership role with visible responsibilities.

She says it because the large puppy her family adopted 6 months ago has been allowed to roam freely and sleep in their bed, and where she apparently shredded a pillow and made a huge mess this morning. Obedience classes? Boundaries? She’s FAMILY and cannot be outside or crated while my admin showers.

You get the idea.

I do not say anything, simply leave my supersized water glass half full and beat a hasty retreat back to my office. But I am seething and venting here, about something that does not truly impact me personally yet upsets me to beyond the ability to have a polite conversation.

Because I know people who have had it so much harder, yet they get up and grimly face the tough times. I have met others with special needs children, who love them as fiercely and are proud of each and every milestone we parents of easier to raise, normal children take for granted. I am someone who has lost a child and feels it, remembers it every single day. Am I more compassionate or simply more aware? I am not a stickler for precision in language – one need only read a few of my past posts with typos and grammatical errors in all their glory to know that – but words matter. What we think and what we say influence the world around us, particularly those that look up to us or need us to set the tone and example.

There is so much we each overlook in our day-to-day lives, so much we take for granted in our need to make a living and get our to-do lists cleared and at least some of our personal needs met. It is easy to be overwhelmed.

My knee-jerk response – if you hate your life, change it – is bitten back a lot of the time. I have no idea of what is going in on the weeds of anyone else’s existence. We all have moments or periods of feeling powerless or paralyzed by circumstances. Just be careful how your phrase your pain and suffering in light of who is listening and your role in their life.

End of rant.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s