Musings of a Night-Shift Grammie
Life’s daily grind has a way of overshadowing the joys of simply living. It’s all about creating schedules, delegating tasks, and often playing the "bad guy" role. Whether it’s dealing with adult children, doctors, or the endless balancing act of budgeting every penny to make ends meet, the weight of responsibility is unrelenting. Meanwhile, others enjoy the privileges of adulthood and household titles but squander opportunities and resources with little to show for their efforts. It feels like a constant uphill battle.
I often think back to where I was at 25 or 27 years old, and I can’t help but shake my head. By then, I had already been married and divorced and was raising two kids as a single parent. Aging out of the foster care system at 18 meant I had no safety net, no one to guide me, and nowhere to turn while I figured things out. I worked tirelessly—holding down at least one full-time job and juggling part-time ones—to keep a roof over our heads. Every day brought a new challenge, and most nights ended with tears as I lay awake feeling like I had failed. Yet, every morning, I gave myself the gift of hope—a chance to try again.
Now, I find myself grappling with frustration, anger, and, at times, a twinge of resentment. The tension builds day by day, with no true outlet. Conversations often spiral into arguments, or worse, end with everyone walking away, leaving problems unresolved and guaranteed to resurface. I can’t help but wonder—how much more can I take? Where is the breaking point? And how long can I keep holding on?
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