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Mr. T, is that you?
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I've always wanted to be somebody. As the great Mr. T once said so eloquently, "Be somebody, or be somebody's fool". And who can argue with that logic? Right now I feel like I am living the latter half of his treatise on life. I wake up every morning (and sometimes go to bed at night) thinking about the monotony, the tantrum-avoiding, the failed potty-training attempts, the general lack of enthusiasm that awaits me. On good days, I can overlook this negative deliberation; on bad days it feeds on my general state of pessimism and becomes a death sentence.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not denying myself the pleasures of being a mother. When I see Emma learning to play with other children, or learning what letters and sounds begin words, or just being generally happy and content, I feel pride in knowing I am at least partially responsible for these occurrences. She's my little girl and, although I am sometimes so angry with her that we can't be in the same room, my love for her grows every day.
The thing is, Mr. T keeps talking to me. Figuratively, of course. I've always wanted to excel at something important, and, in doing so, to make a difference in the lives of others in a unique way. So I try to make a list of my achievements and talents to create a means for these dreams to become a reality. So far, I am in the 'poor-to-mediocre' category on everything. Not necessarily a bad place to be, but then why do I have these grandiose intentions? If I am fated to be mediocre, if I am truly simple in nature, then why do I never seem content with that fact? Is it because I am arrogant and want to believe something that is not there actually is? Is it because I want to achieve a superior status in the eyes of others?
I can't help thinking (and maybe this is the arrogance talking here) that what I'm currently doing is not enough. Even though I have never once truly excelled (okay, so I was valedictorian; but in a class of 28 people, where's the glory in that?) at anything, I would like to. I think, "I was a journalism major, I always wanted to be a journalist, I always thought I could write, just do it already." My current part-time job has me writing and publishing a church newsletter, but it is still mediocre. No ground-breaking stuff there. Even if the subject matter is a little progressive, my lack of writing style makes a much deeper imprint (especially on me).
So what do I do? Do I continue pretending that I can write; that I can make a difference in that way? Do I start over and find something else I can do (which, admittedly, would be nearly impossible given my current caretaker status)? Or do I just give in to the mediocrity and pretend that it is not, in fact, just ordinary? In other words, I may want to be somebody, but am I really called to be?
I'm not necessarily looking for answers here, mostly because I don't want you all to feel obligated to make me feel better. Truth be told, I don't feel bad, or depressed, or even in need of help outside myself. I think it's just something I have to figure out on my own. If you have made it this far in my rambling, thanks for listening. In spite of my internal struggles, I am certain that I am very blessed to know all of you.
8 comments
I think you’re awesome Sara. Also, I think you should contribute to the podcast. You have more radio experience than I do.
While I’m still in the embryonic stage of career/goal development, I often worry about some of the same things. In the context of the poem this isn’t the happiest piece, but I think this stanza from Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is kind of nice:
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous–
Almost, at times, the Fool.
Or of course there’s 1 Thess. 4:11-12
11Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, 12so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.
Just some things that help me in those moments.
Doug
Sara…
You are one of our favorite people, and to us, that is very significant.
love,
brandon and keri
I thought your ‘lack of writing style’ comment was interesting, for as I realized I wasn’t reading Danny (not a lot of potty training going on at the bank . . . I hope), I thought, “oh good, something from sara, she hasn’t written in a while.” I enjoy your writing, especially “the blog stuff". It encourages me to get back at it (writing) too. (Although I havent done it yet.)
Matt
Sara, Stop the jibberjabber and giterdun!!!
You oughta start sending editorials and what-not into magazines. I know people that do this and actually do get published. Even if it’s the Adrian local paper, that’s still impacting a few people and will somewhat satisfy you until Reader’s Digest picks-up something you wrote.
It’s cliche but true, the important thing is to just start writing. I don’t mind admitting that your entries on this blog are way more interesting than Danny’s (and always produce the most comments). Even writing on here gives you an audience. If you start writing more, you’ll find more outlets to write for. So yeah, stop your jibberjabber and… no wait, START the jibberjabber!
I agree with those above who complimented your writing style. Perhaps I’m biased since I know you better, but I always seach this blog to find the entries you’ve written. I think you have an honest, dry, witty style, and I wish I wrote so well. I think you should try some independent writing.
I will say, though, that I think I can imagine your position. In fact, that’s one of the things I fear about potentially working from our home while caring for our own theoretical children one day. I’ve even had people chastise me for not having “more ambition” when I tell them I plan to be at home with our children. I’m sorry, but I think it’s ambitious enough to say that your child is a priority, and to try being creative and excited about another “mundane” day.
I’m wondering (and boy do I sound like a counselor here) if you couldn’t use some encouragement or a reminder of what a great job you do with the church and with Emma. I know I start to feel lost in the shuffle if I’m not told every once in a while that I’m good at what I do or that my work is important. I’m sure Danny tells you that, but sometimes I think it’s good when it comes from outside your family.
Besides, I love you and think you’re one of the coolest parents I know. Perhaps you could be one of the coolest novelists or poets I know, too. Just a thought.
–Erika :)
do theoretical children need to be potty trained?
do theoretical children grow up to be philosophers or mathematicians?
if you enrolled your theoretical children in piano lessons, would they ever practice?
i guess that’s what applicable children are for.
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