So Tired

I guess a lot of people reading this, since most of my traffic comes through Rethink, are in the same boat as me. That is, living a sort of half life. I mean, I'm not, exactly underachieving - I have a wonderful brood of kids, a husband and a home. Lots of people probably envy my lifestyle, based at home with the kids. Other Mums have to work, to pay for childcare or the mortgage or whatever.

And I love that I have the privilege of bringing up my own children. I couldn't rest easy leaving my babies in other hands - I'm too selfish, for one, and too suspicious for another. But it does irk me sometimes that this is not my choice. I have got a degree, for God's sake - a Law degree. When I took the eleven plus test I got the highest mark for English that anybody in the country had ever had before. There was a time when the only thing I knew about myself for sure was that I was clever. Too clever, perhaps. Or maybe not as clever as I thought.

Anyway, now, in my forties, the only jobs I have ever held are cleaning jobs, or waitressing, or once, at the apex of my career, a year or so in a call centre. This bugs me. I want to achieve something. And although my friends say I have, with the kids, and I know that is true, it is not what I mean.

My nervous problems, my so-called schizophrenia, things, whatever, have cheated me of my future. Yet it is not that simple. I never had a future career. I just thought I did. And if I had I would have missed out on all the time with the kids or maybe not even have made the time to have all four of them - and either of those options would have been a lot worse than the burden of a diagnosis.

Anyway, I suppose that I, and any of the rest of you on benefits, have to square the bonuses with the bad side of it all. The discrepancy between what we thought life might hold in store for us and how it has turned out. I can't deny that I am different from the majority of other people. I am no longer sure though that I want to be the same as everyone else. Like everything else in life, it turns out to be a matter of balance - doing enough to be busy and feel useful, stopping for long enough to smell the flowers.

Sorry, guys, if this reads as a strange rant. I am sleep deprived. X.