 |
| waiting to get somewhere |
[
written a month or so ago]
This morning as ever, I waited.
If I look back over the last quarter century or perhaps
earlier, I have spent a considerable amount of time and energy waiting –
waiting for significant others, for those I share my life with and wait for.
This morning was no exception.
Despite anticipating the events and presenting reminders to
pack essential items, to get dressed, to find the materials needed for the day,
I ended up again issuing the same reminders until they became nagging.
It still didn’t mean we avoided the anticipated events that
accompany leaving the house – namely, excessive waiting for someone else to be
ready – waiting for someone else to get their shit together – waiting for
someone else to do the things that had been suggested that would enable leaving
the house on time and in a calm and orderly fashion.
No.
We had tears and panic.
We had me waiting outside in the snow for longer than is
necessary.
We had me getting so fed up that I drove off for a spin
around the block to simmer down.
We had panic and hyperventilation when the car drew up to
house after its short journey.
We had a missing lunch. We had an extra and surplus bag.
We had a mum who lost her shit once more en route (and then
we had a dropped key, a wallet left
behind, interrupted and late settling down to work, dire warnings about not
visiting this shit on anyone else in the class, and in all a truly awesome
start to the day – a start that I had been anticipating and planning since
around 7am on how to avoid.
I wait. It’s my role in life apparently.
I wait for the penny to finally drop for my child that there
are consequences to not being ready, prepared – to leaving stuff till beyond
the last moment – to keeping someone perennially waiting.
I wait for domestic chores to be done. I wait before I ask,
knowing that they will rarely be done in a timely manner- a manner that
respects housemates, that avoids extra work being generated, that respects that
time is precious especially to someone who is kept from doing from they want
due to waiting for others.
I wait before asking as I know it will often be ignored, forgotten, dismissed.
I wait for household repairs and auto repairs, I wait
knowing that these are not ranked highly; I wait knowing that waiting risks
serious damage that will take more money and time and organization and danger
to fix, so I stop waiting and get it done myself.
I wait for household improvements, a simple shelf or bike
rack or sports gear hang up; I wait and see that these things also do not rank
highly. I wait knowing that clutter depresses only me, but that I will be
expected to wait for my relaxation until I find whatever it is that is lost in
the clutter and disorganization, to clean around the heaps, to move belongings
in order to sit, place, wait or stay. I wait knowing that simply wanting a
house to be beautiful or comfortable or organized or tidy is not worthy of
respect, and that there is always my time available to find, tidy, clean,
accept amidst the chaos.
I wait for the simple act of leaving the house; I wait for
gathering up the troops; I wait for reasons to leave the house together. I wait
for entertainment; I wait as opportunities are missed and jump out of waiting
and into doing so they aren’t missed.
I wait. I have waited so long that sometimes all I have to
do are the pieceworks that can be fitted into brief snatches of time spent
waiting – the tasks or projects that can be picked up and put down easily,
swiftly, on someone else’s schedule and immediacy and wants and needs and
priority. I have waited so long that it feels odd to prioritise ahead of -
overruling tasks, events, occasions, escapes – me first takes energy, altered
thinking, waiting for the moment.
I wait for my needs, carving out time in between to
recharge, re-energise without overlapping. I wait for mundanities – sleep, the
mailbox, light bulbs; I wait for the luxuries – intimacy, not being taken for
granted, availability – to each according to their needs, but not to mine. I
wait during explanations that this is all not unique to me. I wait while I try
to explain how much this matters; I wait after I explain how much this matters
for realization to dawn.
I wait for acknowledgement of the rising resentment at being
kept waiting that boils over.
I wait, and in so doing, I spend energy on waiting. I wait
and lose time to recharge so I can wait again.
