Confirmed

I'm not paranoid, or at least, not unrealistically paranoid. The people I have trusted in my life have been calling the state this whole time. They feel like I am not taking care of things the way I should and that calling the state will get me to do so better.

This all came through dad. I'm still so mad that I can't even speak about the topic without getting mad and shrill.

I know that this was uncalled for. I know that whatever they expected the state to do, what happened is that the social workers showed up, interviewed me and annouced that there wasn't much the could offer. The car and the help with the driver permit were all done against the rules and off the books. They don't actually help, see, they just make sure the client has the "tools". Bunch a bullshit beurocratic crap used to justify expenses.

Anyway. I'm at a loss as to what to do. I odviously feel like this is way off base, like bounds have been over stepped and like I've been lied to. I have been lied to because the second time a social worker showed up I called her and asked her if this was coming from them, and she told me that no it wasn't coming from them. Some christian. Lied to me while I was hurt and confused. And proceded to tell me that my problem was that I didn't read the bible every day. That I didn't read the right parts. That nothing I think is important or interesting is actually important or interesting.

Dad figures I have two choices. I can cut ties and isolate myself and then get the hell out of the area as soon as possible. Or I can go to church and pretned nothing happened and get the hell out as soon as possible. I hate both choices.

I'm an adult, to go to church and seem to submit to this kind of external control and manipulation is appropriate and welcome. To stop going is to let others chase me away from somethign I enjoy and feel to be important. Find another church, I hate that. Finding one that isn't nuts. Getting to know people enough that it isn't an interogation.

I did something today that I haven't been able to do for over a year. I went to see mom's grave. Its a mess. She still doesn't have a proper headstone. She is entitled to one because of her status as a vet. But dad never paid the funeral home, so they are holding the headstone hostage. Like I have seven grand sitting around.

I put a heavy vase and a candle with some shiny glass beads out there. I know its not the usual thing, but I hate fake flowers and the real one just die, ghetto all around, that us.

I think that thing that really bothers me about this parenting police stuff is that, I'm good. I don't drink, ever. I don't party, I don't run around with a bunch of loosers. I don't have a chain of men in and out of my life. My son gets to school on a daily basis. They are fed, three or more meals a day. they don't watch racy movies, I don't even cuss around them. Its like, If people are going to be holding me to this high a standard, why bother to try to live right? The answer, of course, is that I haven't been living for them. I live my life for myself and my sons. I set the standards based on the kind of house I wish to run, not based on what someone else seems to think.

I"m sorry I'm not a stepford type. I don't like the idea of spending my time in the kitchen or fussing with laundry. I know that perfection isn't possible, so why stress myself out trying. I'm a working single mom. I don't have the luxury of having all day to putter around and do dishes and make elaborate meals and keep laundry running. I have to work, and then come home and fit all that other work in, and some how find time to help the oldest with homework and play with the younger two and supper and bath times and read two, no three books and go to bed.

Don't I have right to some sort of internal intellectual life. Must every waking thought be taken up with work, house work, kid work? Are mothers expected to be robots? I didn't think so. My mom wasn't a robot. She wasn't perfect, sometimes things got cluttered. When we got bigger we did chores to help out.

I used to have this job at a hospital. It was as a nurse aid and things tended to either be incredibly busy, or absolutly slow. When things would lull, and we had a moment to breath, there was this particular nurse who would follow us around saying "stay busy, look busy" and I just wanted to scream at her sometimes, becuase while she had been fussung around with her damn charst and her damn computers I had passed out meals, fed patients, taken up meals, changed several adult diapers, done a bath or shower, walked a patient or two, found a soda for a visitor, gotten a new patient dressed ans settled, hunted down more pillows for same patient, explained about a thousand times that tha pillows were what they were. Taken severl people potty . . . . The list went on and on, it never stopped, expect about ten at night, for a magical half hour, things would calm down and we could catch out breath, and then "stay busy girls" would start.

I feel like my life has become that. Like I am chasing around crisis after crisis just keeping things about water, and then when I get a moment. When no one is hungry or crying or getting into something or needing help with something or talking my ear off about some cartoon character . . . I should be able to jsut take it easy. But I can't. I have to stay busy. There is always more to do. Right now there is a pan of mac-n-cheese and three bowles that need washed out in the sink. Ther is laundry that need shuffled. The living room has shoes and game peices strewn around. My room has my dirty laundry on the floor. The car's windows are down and fast food bags are waiting to be taken to the dumpster. I think bath water needs to be let out of the tub.

And I sit angstign into this computer because i am so lonely and isolated and don't have a person to talk to in person. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I am lazy and whiny and a terrible mother who should have either aborted ehr children or given them to nice rich people who live in the suberbs and have very white teeth.