I'm Sick

I’m sick of picking up after other people.
I’m sick of being the only one in a house of five able to scrub toilets and showers and wash out bathtubs.
I’m sick of the juggle – of working out who need to pick up and drop off which kid where and when.  Less planning goes into a NASA launch than into your average Monday at my house.
I’m sick of our bank account running out of money on the day I need a haircut.
I’m sick of obnoxious, overly-coiffed sixteen year old girls who think that the world begins and ends with them and that they have the right to treat those they deem less attractive, less popular, less anything as sub-humans.  A Year 11 girl justified her indifference to the suffering in the world with, “If it doesn’t affect me, why should I care?”  I wanted to punch her in the face.
I’m sick of working for people who are no more intelligent or capable than myself, but who are far better at politicking.  I’m sick of bad people managers being put in charge of large groups of staff and then wondering why there are staffing issues.  I’m sick of there being so few female role models in the workplace – women who successfully juggle motherhood and positions of responsibility without being a complete bitch – mostly to other women.
I’m sick of idiots running countries. 
I’m sick of people claiming that global warming is a myth.  They claim many of the events we have seen over the recent past are bound to happen every hundred years or so.  Funny how these once-in-a-hundred-years events have all been happening at once.
I’m sick of stay-at-home mums with all their kids in school or day-care complaining about how busy they are.
I’m sick of explaining to my husband how only having sex once a month will result in him only lasting 90 seconds. 
I’m sick of advertisements and shop signs with incorrect punctuation.  I’m sick of representatives of educational institutions and their various volunteer groups sending out emails without even bothering to do a simple spell-check.
I’m sick of everything in my wardrobe being stained, ripped or missing a button.  I’m sick of kids with Nutella all over themselves rubbing their face in my white quilt cover.
I’m sick of ‘Home Beautiful’ telling me that these $4 million dollar homes they feature are full of “vintage finds”.  I’m also sick of replica Eames rockers, tulip tables and all other manner of design frauds.  I’m sick of white kitchens and faux-Hamptons in the middle of Melbourne.  I’m sick of French provincial and anything whitewashed.  And people stupid enough to paint their hardwood floors white should be shot.
I’m sick of working hard and getting nowhere.  I’m sick of the fact that because my husband is so good at his job he will never be promoted because they can’t find anyone to do what he currently does.
I’m sick of running out of money three weeks into every month.  I’m sick of the growing credit-card debt I can’t control.  I’m sick of the fact that what is on my VISA is school fees and kinder fees, health insurance and OT payments.
I’m sick of marking papers till midnight and then being told how lucky I am to have all those holidays.  I’m sick of the world not realising what teachers do and how hard it can be.  I’m sick of lazy, shit teachers giving the rest of us a bad name.
I’m sick of not having a room of my own.  Virginia Woolf claimed eighty-two years ago that women need space.  She was right.  Fuck open plan living.
I’m sick of my two sons wrestling each other at every opportunity.  I’m told this is normal behaviour for two males.  And we still let men run the world. 
I’m sick of sports-people being declared role models.  Has Shane Warne and Brendon Fevola taught us nothing?
I’m sick of lazy people who believe the world owes them a living.  I’m sick of people who are totally capable of getting off their arses and going to work, sitting home watching daytime television and collecting government benefits.  I’m sick of people making excuses for themselves and others.  Suck it up and get a fucking job.
Mostly, I’m sick of feeling undervalued and unappreciated.  I’m sick of allowing this lack of appreciation to impact on my own self-confidence.  I’m sick of the overwhelming self-loathing and the constant fear of being exposed as a fraud, a fear based solely upon how I perceive others view me.  I’m sick of feeling compelled to constantly question my own abilities, and I’m sick of my need for external positive reinforcement.  I want to be the strong, independent woman I was always promised I would be.
I guess mostly, on some level, I’m sick of me…