Under Pressure

Well, I finally did it; I cracked under the pressure of 16-hours of classes, raising a child, maintaining a marriage and trying to find a little time for myself. I guess the good thing is that I did not spontaneously combust. However, sobbing uncontrollably into my husband's arms while feeling physically and emotionally miserable is not really my idea of a "good thing."

My breakdown was actually my own fault. In addition to having such a heavy load this semester, I have not been eating well or taking care of myself. I rarely work out, and I eat nothing but crap. I have known that I was pushing myself to the limit, but yet I still continued down this unhealthy path. Why do I do these things to myself? Is it possible that I am subconsciously attracted to drama? Or maybe I want to self-destruct so that I will no longer have so much responsibility.

As I told someone last week, I feel as if my mind and body are involved in a no-disqualifications wrestling match with guilt occasionally tagging in. I am struggling with successfully dividing my time between each of my roles, and I feel as if I am suffocating beneath a blanket of stress.

Although I am completely overwhelmed, I know that I am not alone. I am lucky to have a wonderful support system in my family, friends, classmates and professors. Without this support, I would be struggling much more than I am now. I also have a good doctor who is assisting me in getting back on track with my physical health.


I am confident that I am being pretty candid right now. Emotional breakdowns are not things that people normally like to talk about, but I guess everyone feels the squeeze from the pressure of life every now and then. Talking about emotions in public seems to be considered taboo or a social no-no. Maybe if emotions were more accepted by society, especially the emotions of women, there wouldn't be such guilt and shame when life seems to become a little tough to handle. If displaying emotions were more acceptable, perhaps more people would reach out when they are over their heads instead of turning to drastic measures.

So writing this post is my way of speaking up. I am willing to use my voice (via writing skills) to let others know that life is tough and sometimes we fall, but it is okay to cry and to ask for help. We all fall sometimes, even if no one ever talks about it.

It's Back...

Well, it's that time of year again: football season. What do I think about when I hear the words, "football season"? Why, I think of the Dallas Cowboys. I think of my husband sitting on the couch squealing with glee when his team scores a goal, and screaming and ranting in anger when the Cowboys lose or another team does them some horrible wrong.

I personally hate this time of year because of the Cowboys. I love autumn and feeling the temperature drop and watching the leaves fall from the trees. However, I do not enjoy hearing strings of curse words and blaring shouts fly across the house while my husband jumps up and down on the couch screaming at the television. Even worse is when he gets so upset that he shuts off the TV in the middle of the game and leaves the house. It is not uncommon for him to climb into his car and drive around town to let off steam. Sometimes he will even take off walking down the street, after dark, without a coat or a cell phone.

I love my husband, and I generally like him very much, but I do not like the Cowboys fan in him. He is a tortured fan. Any team that he considers "his team" continually upsets him and sends him into a rage. Don't even get me started on his reaction to the Rangers losing the World Series last year.

How can such a loving man turn into such a jerk during one season a year? At least the jerkiness is never toward our son or me. It is always centered on a team who lets him down year after year.

I have never been a sports fan, so maybe that is why I do not understand his behavior. I really just wish he would turn off the damn TV.

Control

This week I rediscovered a bad habit of mine; a deep dark ugly secret that I have been hiding for some time: I am a control freak. When given even a little bit of control over something, I will completely take over. I become this perfectionist monster, enforcing my opinion on those around me. My husband is usually the one who suffers. Poor guy.

Here's an example: Earlier this week, my hubby decided to touch up his resume a bit. It has been a couple of years since we had looked at it, so I thought it needed quite a few changes. Notice I said, "...We had looked at it," and "...I thought." Clearly I have issues with whose resume this really belongs to.

Whenever my husband takes on anything English related, I always feel that I know best, and that he should choose my suggestions over his own. He has his own English degree, and he knows a thing or two about writing, but we always clash when it comes to writing something together. He does ask for my help, but I'm sure he just meant for me to only help. I'm positive he is not asking, "Jill, will you please completely take over the task of re-writing my resume? And while you're at it, will you make me feel like a complete idiot because I don't think of the same words that you do?"

I don't mean to take over things; it's just that I have a passion for writing, especially technical things like letters, reports, resumes, term papers, etc. I think I am a decent technical writer, and I just want to share my skills with the man who shares my bed and is paying for my college education. Is that wrong?

However, when I did walk away and let him have full control over his own project, he actually did a really good job. I was very impressed with his word usuage and the language of his document. After I knew that he was okay without me, I was able to leave him alone and let him write by himself. I really need to do that more often.

The main problem is that my controlling nature is not just evident in all things English; it shows up in other areas of my life too. I still worry about things that went wrong at our wedding over three years ago, but I won't go there.



Hello, my name is Jill, and I am a control freak.

How about a cheesy, cliche song about familial bliss?

Five Years Ago

Five years ago, my nights were filled with bar-hopping, flirting and internet dating. Now my nights are filled with searching for a beloved stuffed animal, bedtime routines, college homework and getting to bed before 11 o'clock.

Five years ago, I was closing down bars; now I am closing down Target and Wal-Mart with last-minute grocery and diaper runs. I clip coupons, research deals, balance bank accounts, and pay bills online. I clean poop off of crib railings and bedroom walls, dole out Flintstones Vitamins and witness sippy cups of milk fly through the air, and splatter on my car windows.

I've been hit in the face with airborne wooden spoons, soaring books, and the freakishly hard head of a 20 month-old who decides to catapult his little body onto my bed.

But five years ago, I did not know the joy of a toothy grin and a gripping hug by a 20-month old, the sound of hearing, "Mamma," through the baby monitor, or seeing a curious face peer out the window at me as I leave for school each day. I did not know the real meaning of the word, "Mother".

Five years ago, I did not know the love and support of a man who tells me every day how beautiful I am, who encourages me when I am drowning in a sea of responsibility, and who always knows when I need a hug or a quick dance twirl.

I did not know the pleasure of excruciating mental work, and succeeding in college. I did not know the excitement of walking across a crowded stage among the blurred faces of my family as I received my Associate's degree; or my elation as I received my acceptance letter from Texas Wesleyan University.

Five years ago, I was one single, selfish broad. Now I am a student, a wife, and a mother. Now I am part of a family.

And now I am one busy broad.