The "me" I always wanted to be

Childhood was not my bag. Don't get me wrong - I had a great childhood growing up. My parents are awesome. My home was a safe haven where I could be who ever I wanted. I was raised in a very comfortable home where I very rarely had to do without. If ever. My mom stayed home and I swear it, there were cookies and milk waiting for us every day when we got home. Despite much teasing from my brothers and me, my mom packed us a lunch every day that had all four food groups represented. I wasn't a "hot lunch" kind of girl. I wanted something from home. My mom literally made my lunch every day all the way through high school. My dad was the kind of dad that taught us to drive. He went to every one of our swim meets after being away on business all week. They'd sit all day in a sweltering hot pool area to watch me lose my one or two events. The hardest part of my childhood was the fact that we moved every two years or so with my dad's job - in the end I think that worked out in my favor because I'm able to make friends with a brick wall at this point.

Anyway, my point is, I had a great home life. But I just never...liked being a kid. I never got comfortable. It never seemed right. Even when I was in high school I'd look around and think "Ugh. Another day in another place where I don't fit in." I talked to my friend Tom the other night and he asked if I was going to our class reunion. 20 years this year. Wow. Um, no. I won't be going. Tom asked me why people call me Kate now instead of Kathleen. All through high school my name was Kathleen. So I started explaining...

No one (besides my family) really *got* me until I hit college. In grade school I was a dork. In high school they thought I was fake. Or bitchy. Or...I don't know. But I know they didn't like me. I hit college and ... magic. They got me. My roommate my freshman year told me my name was too long. So we changed it to Kate. Just like that - my life started. Somehow shedding the name Kathleen was like shedding my childhood and I was suddenly the person I was meant to be. Or, more to the point, I was the person I always was...but more people got it. It seemed right. Now I r.e.a.l.l.y. dislike being called Kathleen. (Except by my family - they're allowed.)

I went to see the therapist yesterday and I tried to explain some of my relationship with Jim. She was able to very accurately pinpoint some things for me that I have not been able to articulate. So here's more on the story: I met Jim in college. So he never knew me as anything but Kate. And when I met Jim - more of the pieces of my life fell into place. It was almost like I was dyslexic on life before I met Jim. I was getting by, but not at optimum performance. He sort of...relaxed my brain and unscrambled life for me. It really was like that. Jim got me. He knew me. He knew me and put up with me. More than that. He knew me and loved me. Jim's love made everything right in my world. Everything made sense. There was a reason for everything. We made goals together. We talked about...everything. Jim was NOT the great communicator. So when I say that what I actually mean is that I talked about everything and Jim listened and contributed something significant when I paused my chattering for a second. Jim and I were a great team. I think I've mentioned before - he was my rock. He kept me tethered to the earth. And in turn, I think I dragged Jim into doing a lot of fun things that he probably wouldn't have done on his own. I was in charge of making friends. I was in charge of our social life, vacations, food and parties. Basically, I got to do all the fun stuff that Jim just didn't want to deal with. Jim was in charge of our house, yard care, and...all things stable or roots-like. All that stuff I didn't want to deal with. I could be my flaky self with Jim. I could be the fun one. I could be...me. And he loved me anyway.

I was trying to explain all this to the therapist and I just started to cry. Nothing seems right in the world. There's no purpose. I know I'm supposed to keep going and doing for my kids. But just like in high school - none of this makes sense anymore. What am I just treading through life for? I'm not really living. I'm just surviving. I'm just making it day to day. Every morning I dread getting up. Another day when I function but really have no idea what's going on. You can't tell by looking at me that my world doesn't make sense, just like you can't tell by looking at someone that they have dyslexia. Every morning when I'm lying there in bed, dreading getting up, I try and give myself a pep talk... "Today I'm going to be the "me" I always wanted to be." I try and be responsible. To follow through on the tasks that I dread. To make the calls I'm supposed to make. To make my kids lunches and clean the house and do the laundry and study and volunteer at the school. To pay the bills, shovel the walk, take out the trash, change lightbulbs and cook balanced healthy meals. But a lot of days (read: every day) I get to about 4:00 pm and I just can't do another thing. I literally can't make myself go another inch.

So I'm telling her this and I'm sobbing. And she takes a long pause and says "Kate, you're completely exhausted. You said yourself that you really stepped it up and you were the responsible one when Jim got sick. And you've been responsible since he died. You are experiencing something of an identity crisis. Now you can't be just you. You have to be Jim, too." When she said that I really got messy. Because THAT is why I'm so tired. That's why even if I take a vacation it's not enough. I still have to come back and be two people. If I take the vacation with my kids I don't even get to leave and be me. I have to be both of us the whole time.

THIS IS NOT THE LIFE I PLANNED. Man, I was smart at 22. I chose someone who filled in everything I was missing. I imagine I did that for Jim. (At least I like to think I did!) We created a life that had a natural division of labor as we saw fit. Jim's side of the load was r-e-a-l-l-y heavy, but it was a fit for him. If I was the one who died, there's a strong possibility that he'd go to work every day. He'd feed the kids and get by. He'd manage the house and the grass would be cut. He'd be able to keep up with that stuff. But he wouldn't have the group of friends I have. He wouldn't be setting up little playdates for the kids. He would keep in contact with his best buddies from out of town, but making friends and having a social circle would not be his deal. That's not to say Jim wasn't fun. He most certainly was. He was the wittiest guy I knew and *everyone* loved him. But really putting himself out there was not Jim's forte.

So I'm waking up every day. And I'm not being the "me" I always wanted to be. I'm being me and Jim. And lemme tell ya, trying to fill Jim's shoes totally sucks. Jim was larger than life. He was responsible. He was a rock. He was a force to be reckoned with. And I was always happy being...me. Flaky fun Kate. I imagine that Jim was willing to put up with my flakiness for the fun. He loved that I got so excited about silly stuff. More people get me now. I love that. I really do. It's wonderful to be an adult. I wouldn't trade a second of what has happened in my life. It's made me a better person. But I miss having Jim here to help me relax my brain and unscramble life. I miss having him to lean on. I miss dragging him to things that he wasn't sure he wanted to do. I miss him. And I miss being fun.