Changing, I waffle on my feelings about being responsible. On the one hand, I'm very proud of all that I'm able to handle and do and maintain my sanity. On the other, I never really had a chance to those wild and crazy things most kids do. Not so much because I got pregnant, but because I was too afraid to do any of them. So I never snuck into bars. I never went to parties. I never got some wild hairdo or wore funky clothes. I didn't do it as a teen, or in my twenties, and now in my thirties, there's times I want to screw this reponsibility and just do something crazy. I thought about having a tattoo around the scar on my ankle. I've thought about having my ears pierced (never have), and then I thought about having my belly button pierced. And then I'm sitting there thinking, "What the hell am I doing? I'm too old for this stuff."
Amber, I've gradually gotten better. There was a point where I decided if I was sick, and just felt awful I was staying home, no matter if I had a fever or not. My mother had fits over it. I still, have misgivings about taking any time off work though. Even for vacations that I plan. My mother always complained about anyone taking a vacation, as in going somewhere for vacation. Vacations were supposed to be spent at home doing home projects, not just having fun. That's hard to overcome. There's no wonder I feel guilty for spending a day off just goofing off and doing silly things.
Izzy, I relate to your story so well. When I broke my ankle and had to have surgery, I couldn't walk for 10 weeks. My job required a lot of walking and lifting. However, I'd just gotten a new supervisor, and no one was really doing "my" job. I was told I could go back to work after the staples came out and I could wear a boot. I went back to work 2.5 weeks post surgery. I was in pain. I could barely stand to sit up for more than three or four hours at a time. Worst of all, after 10 weeks, I had to have a second surgery to remove part of my pins, and then I could start walking and physical therapy. I was in even more pain than I had been after the reparitive surgery. I burned a hole in my stomach with pain medicine. Did I stop to take care of myself? Nope, I just kept going in because no one else was going to do my job. I didn't get any thanks. I didn't get any help. And when I finally left that job, they were eager to see my back. It made me wonder why I had sacrificed my health.
I don't know that I felt guilty, but I felt like I had to give it my all. And my mom was there right behind me, telling me that if I didn't get back in the work arena someone else would take over my job. I didn't want that.
