My Paralysis

No need to say more.

There are several writing orders that I still have to do. I should have done some of them weeks ago, but I've been struggling to get off my "funk". As I blog now, I'm asking myself why I'm having this kind of trouble. 

For one, I'm thinking of so many things at the same time. It's like hearing a loud noise in my mind. There's no music, just noise. 

Work. Money. Life. Studies. Kid. Mom. Dad. Brothers. God. Charity. Hachi (the family dog). Politics. Movie. Certain actors. Last Song Syndrome. Dreams. Faceless mate. Food. Cooking. TV. Radio. Phone. College scholarship. Friends. Death. Credit cards. Etc. All these plans, things, priorities, and people enjoy a merry-go-round ride in my head. It's something I can stop, but couldn't. Why?

I cannot deny that I'm a struggling single mom. Parenting is not a joke. It's a commitment. A vocation. As much as I'd like to fully focus on her needs, I cannot do so. 

I have tried for several years to work outside the home. It was okay until I bumped into authority figures with whom I had several issues. There's no point in going into details about them. What's important is that I left my university jobs before losing my self-respect and turning into a lifeless proletariat zombie.

My online work hasn't been lucrative so far. But at least, I get to shield myself from office politics. I'm able to work when my mind is most productive and not because someone's going to evaluate my performance. I also get to see my kid leave for school and come home from school. I get to eat with my parents. 

I can't recall exactly when I've turned into a homebody. I used to be an extrovert when I was younger. I dreamt of traveling (and I still do), but if that doesn't happen, I'd be okay with just staying home. Of course, I'd go out to buy basic necessities. Grocery shopping is one of my likes, by the way, as it is about sustaining a home. 

Taking care of my girl and working don't mesh well. But I need the latter to support the former. I hate waking up in the morning to write for money though. I hate the feeling of working just to survive. This isn't the kind of life I want for myself or for my child. And yet, beggars have no right to choose a good life...I cannot afford it. And I'm ashamed and sorry that I cannot give her everything she wants. 

Paralysis by too much analysis.

She has many dreams. To be a singer. To learn how to play the piano. To study abroad. To be a chef. To be an engineer. To travel. To eat in many restaurants. To have our own home. To meet Daniel Radcliffe and the white guy in the Glee Project (I forgot his name). 

She occasionally calls me Mrs. Cusack because Johnny Depp's already married and Viggo Mortensen has a girlfriend. She'd probably stop calling me that way once John finally settles down (which I doubt at this point). 

I used to be David Cook's girl when he was still vying for the American Idol post. Of course, he didn't know that. I broke up with him after he won to make way for other women. I did see his concert with David Archuleta though. But I kept my distance. 

Right. I was smiling as I wrote those lines. Daydreaming is nice, but that's it. They're only a dream. Daydreams that cannot provide me with what I need to meet my kid's needs. They form my escape train. Good thing that I know when to hit the brakes and leave the station. Thing is, once I've dismounted, I get confused as to what ride I'll take next.

In over a year, she'll be in college. And I have yet to find scholarship opportunities for her. Here I am blogging away, hoping that somehow I'd earn from this virtual marketplace in the long run to support us. 

If only I had clones, I'd have several "me"s to work on my different priorities. I just hope that the writing me would be disciplined, more focused, and able to write well and efficiently. She'd be able to earn more and able to pay her bills and debts. The other me would be serving others, particularly adult illiterates who can still learn the ropes if they want to and if only they are given the opportunity to finish their education. Another me would visit my few remaining friends just to ask how they're doing and spend quality time with them - even just for a short while. The real me would be both the parent and the child. I'd like to do something good and forgive myself for all the things I have failed to do and have never accomplished for my loved ones because I was (and am) too selfish to begin with. 

As I end this self-serving blog, I'm reminding myself that my paralysis is caused by my thinking too much about what I should or need to do - future plans that may or may never happen. A good friend whom I call "Dad" told me to stop thinking about the future and just focus on the present. The "now" is more important than everything else. 

The more I escape reality through dreaming and planning, the more I become unable to take gradual steps towards changing myself and getting out of my comfort zone. My kid is my oxygen. She is my only inspiration. I'm hoping and praying that I could function to serve her well.

It's time to work. This paralysis should stop. This must end. 

I can do this.