Everyday Experiences

The stupid, never ending, turning, carousel


The Carousel Never Stops Turning

The Carousel Never Stops Turning

“Life is a rollercoaster”. “Stop, I want to get off”. “This ride never ends.” Just a few quotes about the thing we all are living called life. My all time favorite that will not go away, thanks to my possibly unhealthy Grey’s Anatomy addiction, is “The carousel never stops turning”. Spoken by character Ellis Grey. It has been replayed and given new meaning on different episodes throughout the 11 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy that I too have been able to keep giving the quote new meaning in my life.

Right now it seems quite literal. Like I’m really on a fucking carousel and it will.not.quit.turning. I can wave my hands at the conductor, scream like a maniac, threaten to jump off when I pass by the bystanders, but it just doesn’t stop. That’s the life part I guess. That’s the good thing. But why does it have to go so fast all the damn time? And what if I didn’t choose to be on this carousel? What if I wanted to be on something a little more suited for my taste like the lazy river at a water park? Sometimes you go through a rapid and other times you go through smooth waters. But this crazy ass carousel is not good for someone with motion sickness like me. Besides. I thought I did get off the carousel when I graduated college and tried trading in my type A personality for something more unwound. Oh wait. That must have been a rollercoaster I was on then. And I don’t think I actually got off. I think I only changed rollercoasters until I got a divorce. So, now I’m on the carousel.

I seemed to be in the lazy river of life for a while. For about 2 years after remarrying and giving birth to the best thing ever. But then my husband lost his job in a crazy way, and I guess someone then gave me a ticket for this stupid carousel. I’ve been on it ever since. Just when I think it may slow down, the conductor smiling like the Cheshire cat only speeds it back up. I may be accepting that I will not ever get off., no matter how many others are standing in line. It started after he lost his job and I became the sole provider for the family for almost a year. Then the speed picked up when I felt as if I was thrown into the decision of him becoming a truck driver and leaving me alone with our then 3-year-old to raise mostly on my own. That speed has stayed pretty consistent because that has been more or less what has happened over the past year.

I could feel the speed increase last June when he left for training with the company he works for now. The vertigo set in and I eventually became numb to the ringing in my ears and unevenness to my walk from the motion. The days spent on the carousel just blur by one into the other as I am in survival mode all of the time it seems like as I took on role of mama and daddy and caretaker of all things. Part of it is my work too. That was never thrown into the “I’m going to be a truck driver” equation. My hours of work are not the best to raise a 4-year-old alone for 11 days at a time ( I know those true single mothers are rolling their eyes. that’s fine. this is my story. my pity party. i can tell it). If only I could find another job that would be better for this lifestyle of living on a carousel. Do I search the DOL for “carousel laborer”? Right now there is nothing but to ride it out. Just keep turning even though I’ve never bought another ticket. Do you think anyone will notice?

I know it sounds like a big crazy mess. Well, that’s because it is. It really, really is. Never in a million years did I think I would be on this carousel. Sometimes, I learn from it and just keep going another turn. Sometimes it really gets to me and I do think I might throw up the next time around. But, the end result is the same. It doesn’t stop turning. And, if you stop to think about it, that’s better than the alternative.

Maybe tomorrow….

Maybe tomorrow I can share my feelings with you. Maybe tomorrow I can get it all out instead of keeping it all in. Maybe tomorrow I can be the one that gets the shoulder to lean on instead of being the shoulder to lean on.

Call me a classic Scorpio, but one thing I am is fiercely loyal. Once you’ve earned my trust, love, and loyalty it’s yours. Usually this is a downfall of mine. I feel deeply. I love deeply. I also hurt deeply. But, years of knowing this I’ve developed a coping mechanism of ignoring deeply. Saying that I’m fiercely loyal means that I’m a friend to the end no matter what. No, I’m not a doormat, I won’t take outright abuse, but I am mature enough to stand beside you through the stormiest of times just to see the tiniest glimpse of sunshine. I do all of this without asking of anything in return. Outwardly. Outwardly I want nothing from you. I am happy to do what I do for you with open arms and an open heart. Inwardly I am wanting the same in return. Not because I’ve done for you and I think you should now do for me, but because I often forget that not everyone is as loyal as I am although I expect that of them. That is where the downfall lies. How can I hold someone to such high expectations that they know nothing about? In reality they’ve done nothing wrong. They’ve not wronged me. They’ve not shunned me. They’ve not hurt me. They also haven’t thought of me as often as I’ve thought of them. They also haven’t listened to be as often as I’ve listened to them. They also haven’t gone out of there way to check on me when they know I’m having it rough as I have them. Does it mean they don’t love me? Does it mean they don’t value our friendship? Not necessarily. And I shouldn’t always expect others to react to situations in the same way that I do.

But, I’m tired. I’m tired of all that is carried on these two shoulders. I’m tired and I have no one to turn to. So it seems. Everyone is busy, everyone is caught up in “I’m gonna do me” and forget about the people around you that care enough to help you “do you”. What about me? Do I get to have a bad day? Do I get to lean on someone? Do I get to finish the conversation? The coping mechanism was developed for situations such as these. Just as I think that I may get things off of my chest and I may get to be the one to “lay on the couch” for a session, something happens and the other person flits off and forgets the conversation. So, broom out, rug up, the feelings get swept under. Nowhere else for them to go. Not enough room on my shoulders any longer. Not enough room in my head much longer.

Yes, I’m fiercely loyal to a fault. A fault all my own and one that I admit to. One that I try to remember not to fault others for and not to see them as having a shortcoming because they are not. My heart is heavy and yet it is open at the same time. I want to love, I want to share, I want to build these relationships. Maybe tomorrow I can make some room….

How you know to come here?

Wild hair. No pun intended. I’ve wanted a way to feel sexier and I’ve tried the shaving method, but my Queen Victoria is quite sensitive and razor burn is inevitable. Also, taking into account that I rarely do anything without the penguin, answering the question of “what are you doing?” while trying to delicately maneuver a razor just isn’t that practical nor does it ooze sexiness . So, I had some extra time on my hands today and due to an unexpected bonus I decided to treat myself (and my husband) to my first “wax “. Yes! That wax!! Now, being in small town America limits the availability of who does this sort of thing. No fancy spas here. Nope. It’s a one stop stereotypical “nail” salon owned and worked by a family of Asian descent . As I’ve sat I’m the pedicure chair having my back pummeled by the automatic “massage” chair I have noticed a steady stream of men and women coming and going to the “wax” room as if they have a standing appointment . So, of course this is where I boldly went in today and asked was there an appointment available for a wax. In the foreign tongue that they speak to one another the front end girl (Laura ) called to the back to Rose…the waxer. I was lead to THE room and without even asking what “style” I wanted , was instructed to take my pants all the way off so I was able to spread my legs better. Okay. So, this is how it’s done. On one hand I’m relieved that we’ve skipped the awkward conversation and at the same time kind if shocked that it’s assumed I want the bare treatment. I am now in position and through her mask Rose ask “how you know to come here ?”. I’m kind of hesitant in answering. Running through my mind are scenarios like this is a “club” and obviously I’ve not been invited . If I don’t give the right name, what will my previous Queen look like? I blow the question off with a generic answer of “I’ve seen others come back here when I’ve been in for a pedicure”. So, the hot wax is applied and the ripping begins and again the question, “how you know to come here?” All I can think of is the 90210 episode where they are trying to get into some underground party. The story is you are supposed to stop at a convenience store and ask for an egg. That’s the code word for the directions. Of course Andrea and Steve stopped at the wrong store and the clerk had no clue about an egg. So, I’m wondering, is this my egg moment? Was there a code word I needed and clearly don’t have? This time I answer that I’ve tried shaving but wanted to try waxing and my husband had been gone for ten days but was returning tomorrow. This satisfied her. She asked no more. She was giddy and excited at how “easy” I was to wax even though it was “first time”. Um, thanks? She even rubbed a little spot and said , “this usually bad, you do very good “, and I felt like she was proud if my waxing Queen. So, I sat up started to get dressed and she asked if there was anything else? “Do you do legs ?” …..
$100 later I am smooth from the waist down. Best money I’ve spent in awhile. Now, I am in the club.

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