Sunday, April 08, 2018

on hold

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.
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.
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