Whose Life is This?

I feel like a visitor in my life sometimes. There are days when I hear this happy person speaking and I am amazed to realize it is me. I don’t know who that person is some days. Because me, I am sad upset and wondering where my life went wrong. But this person who looks like me wakes her kids with love and gives hugs and encouragement to get out of the house. She is put together no makeup that is the one thing we have in common but she looks good. She has a great smile and shares it with everyone even the people in the cars passing her on the road. She has on music and is singing laughing and talking to her kids. She has that same smile for the crossing guards, teachers, parents and other kids when it is time for school drop-off. As she drives out of the loop I get to come back. It is my car, those were my kids she dropped off and she is wearing my clothes but the sadness that inhibits my heart has no place in hers. She takes the life she has and does with it the best she can. Me? Not so much. I like that I have a convertible but it would be better if it was a Saab actually it should be a Saab. If I could get my child support, and didn’t work in such a male controlled field, I would have that Saab. But she looks at child support as their responsibility. She says she is responsible for how SHE treats her children not how anyone else does. Me, I see all the things they are missing. Having to do only one activity at a time only being able to go to a week of specialty camp. I want them to pay and pay now! Our lives would be better, we deserve better!

Then there are those times when she embraces me. We spend a day watching TV, not getting dressed and eating to fill my sadness. All of a sudden she hears her/my mother say I am too blessed to be stressed, or one of the hundreds of little inspirational tidbits she has collected over the years and she moves on. She gets up puts on the best clothes in the closet and heads out. Leaving me to my worries, and hurts all by myself. I am not sure when we spilt but we have not spent everyday hanging out for some time now. We spent a week or so together after Dad died, and about a month after Mom but she refuses to spend a lot of time with me now. The most I get is a few minutes here or an hour or so there and then she drops me. I wish I could be like her. But all that smiling, hugging and doing for others is too much for me. I got my own problems. One of them is trying to figure out whose life this is. I no longer remember who got here first. Am I the visitor or is she.