Tag: angst

Dear world: it’s not you, it’s me

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

After all, I am Korean.  And no culture has higher expectations from other people as Koreans do, and I ponder the day if and when anyone can prove to me that anyone can work harder than a Korean can, because as far as my personal experiences are concerned, I’m hard pressed to ever have bared witness to such.

Mythical wife and I got into a little tiff coming back from the airport, because she was tired of everything coming out of my mouth being a complaint, and I was tired of being criticized for speaking negatively in a scenario where everything was going annoyingly when I feel that everything else I do is usually for the sake of others because I’m always trying to please everyone.  Atlanta Hartsfield Latoya-Jackson Ching Chong Chang really is capable of bringing the worst out of everyone at the drop of a hat, even those who are on their way out of it.

We landed right at midnight, and having sat at the very back of the aircraft, we’re the last to deplane, which is never a pleasant experience sitting in a giant metal tube with stagnant air for an extra 20 minutes than most other people.  Naturally, we’re at the very end of the terminal, so it’s a quarter mile to get to the escalators only to find out that the Pain Train shuttle is on reduced service and only one side of the tracks are operating, so we start walking, only for there to be assholes who clog up the moving walkway with wheelchairs they’re using as push carts or people just too fucking stupid and/or oblivious and not moving out the way for those actually walking.

We get on the next pain train, and of course, it stops because the tracks are clogged, right before we need to get off, adding even more time to our arrival, to which I am being cognizant about because as it’s past midnight, a new day is ticking, and I don’t want to get charged even more for parking than I have to at this point, so getting out as soon as possible is the objective.

Arriving at the main terminal, it turns out that basically the entire north wing is cordoned off, so we have to do a really cumbersome detour around south and then back to north, and of course the parking payment machines are all gone, presumably so that people can no longer pre-pay for their parking and increase the chances of time lapsing further while you get to your car, and drive through the maze-like exits of the on-site parking.

By the time we’re off the premises, mythical wife and I are already not speaking, because she’s tired of my complaining, and I’m over not being allowed to be upset at the fact that Atlanta Hartsfield Latoya-Jackson is run by brain dead invalids who love to parrot that they’re the busiest airport in the world, leaving out the fact that such business is wholly a result of the fact that they’re run by a bunch of brain dead invalids.

I don’t apologize for having higher expectations of the world around me, and I understand that the only one set up for failure for having such a mindset is myself, because the rest of the non-Korean world is way more accepting of substandard performance out of fucking everyone than I am.  And like a self-fulfilling prophecy, I am failing, because I fall victim to getting annoyed by fucking everything, because nobody in the world is capable of performing a job at a satisfactory level, seemingly anywhere I go.

I know the easy solution to a large percentage of the angst I experience on a daily basis would probably go away if I simply lowered my expectations on the world around me and were better capable of accepting the fact that the world is way less competent than I hope they could be, but it’s difficult for me.  I’m Korean, and culturally, Korean people expect a lot out of other people, and it’s never not disappointing when our expectations are not met.  This is a facet of my personality that in spite of my American upbringing that remains very much Korean, and it sucks because it means I’m an easy mark for disappointment, negativity and pessimism.

I don’t mean to be so negative and pessimistic and nihilistic about the world around me, but sometimes I really can’t help it.  I expect basic competence from everyone around me, and when everyone around me mostly, inevitably falls short, it’s a disappointment.  But I’m not going to apologize for voicing my opinions; I may try to be more cognizant that not everyone is going to want to hear them, but I don’t apologize if they come out.  If the world around me were more competent at their jobs and fostered efficiency and smooth operating, I wouldn’t have room for complaint, and in fact be grateful and praising of good work, because few things please me more than benefiting from efficient operating.

But as the subject of this post says, I know it’s not the world’s fault that I’m always so cranky and critical.  It’s entirely on me, because I have too many expectations from everyone, that I’m only setting myself up for let down and disappointment when they all inevitably fail to meet such par but lofty standards.  I’m working on it as much as a person like me can possibly work on it.

I will never understand people who think cash doesn’t make the best gift

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

It’s that time of the year when all across the country, as well as the world, people are preparing for their respective gift-giving holidays and putting way more thought than really should be necessary in pondering on what to get for the ones in our lives we feel the compulsion to give gifts to.  And because I am fortunate to have people in my life who care about me, I’ve been asked for what I want, or lists of things that might want to expedite their pursuits for checking me off a respective list.

The honest answer to if there is anything that I want is that I literally want nothing.  There is no physical tangible thing out there at this juncture in my life that will improve my standing in said life, and I would rather have absolutely nothing over one more piece of existing matter that can further fill up my house that I already feel is packed to the brim with, things.

Not even any more wrestling blets, because for starters there aren’t any blets out there that I actually want anymore, and secondly because I have no office or personal space to put them in, any further blets would just sit in my closet out of sight until whatever day comes when I can have a private space again.

What I would really like, is to receive cash, if I had to get any gifts at all.  But the thing is, at least with so many Americans, cash is considered not a good gift, as it’s impersonal or thoughtless or other pejoratives people who feel this way use to try and justify their opinions that it’s just not a good gift.

Quite the contrary, I don’t think there’s a gift better than cold hard currency, because it shows that you care enough to want to gift something to a person, but at the same time, take into consideration that they can actually then use it on specifically what they want, because the things people want might be personal or too expensive and require lots of other cash gifts to help to go toward it, but the fact of the matter is that cash is one of those things most could probably use, but at least in America, probably won’t get solely based on perception bias of cash as gifts.

In the Korean part of my upbringing, cash as gifts was about as common as white people giving out cups and mugs* as gifts.  Not only does it demonstrate thoughtfulness, it also takes into consideration that the recipient is now free to use it towards what might actually make them happy, instead of receiving something that they might have to pretend being happy over and making it awkward when it’s never seen of again, or worse off, ends up in a charity pile or discreetly sold on Facebook Marketplace.

*this is another can of worms that maybe I’ll rant about the next time it triggers me

Frankly, I’d love it if everyone who wanted to get me a gift would just send me cash.  The only things I want are time, which I know can’t be purchased, and relief from feeling like I’m scraping by, which can only be gifted in the forms of cash that I’d use to help keep my head above water.  And it wouldn’t be like using gift cash to pay for my bills or anything, it would be like cash used to help cover for actual indulgences that just happened to have occurred in the past, like the multitude of Disney trips that have happened over the last two years where it always feels like I’m trying to dig out of.

That’s what would actually make me happy.  Things won’t make me as happy as the alleviation of some of the financial undertakings that I’ve been put on, because there is a direct correlation with my financial security and my general state of happiness, and anything that can bring me any sort of relief, would be the most welcome gift of all.

Dad Brog (#126): When will the holidays be enjoyable again?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

This morning, I was awoken a few minutes before my alarm went off, because #1 had already begun to stir and babble and indicate that she was awake.  My alarm went off three minutes later at 7 am because I get up at 7 am every single day of my life regardless of if it’s a weekend or holiday so that I can hope to get some stuff done and have breakfast ready for the kids for when I inevitably get them from their respective rooms.

I got off of the couch because my in-laws were visiting and mythical wife and I forfeited our bed because we no longer have a guest room because we have an au pair, and I trudged into the kitchen to begin the morning routine.  It didn’t last long, because #1 began screaming and crying out for dada to come get her, and it was getting louder and louder, and typically I try to no-sell it and hope she calms back down, but it was evident that that wasn’t going to happen this morning.  And before her screaming would wake up the rest of the state of Georgia, I went up to get her early, regardless of the fact that I hadn’t gotten anything prepared for the morning.

Turns out she had completely soaked the bed, and most likely from a combination of shame and embarrassment, she was furious, despite the fact that I did not get mad or upset with her and explained calmly that everything was okay and that we would fix it.  She wailed like a banshee and had a nuclear meltdown, while I stripped the sheets and got her changed and brought her downstairs.  I love my kids, but trying to do anything with them around is at least three times harder than it should be, and putting away yesterday’s dishes and trying to prepare breakfast for them is no exception.

After getting #1 situated and eating, I went up to get #2, and thankfully this morning she was the chill kid, and didn’t fuss and fight at all which was a huge relief.  She sat down and began eating and for two seconds, things were quiet with them eating breakfast.  But that didn’t last long, because the rest of the house started waking up, and other human beings are automatically distracting to them, and before I know, breakfast is abandoned, and they’re running amok, primarily fucking with the Christmas tree and some of the decorations we had just set up the night prior after Thanksgiving dinner part two.

To cut to the chase and cut down on redundant words and stories about how hard my life is in my parental circumstances, that was basically the story of the day, playing a fuck ton of defense throughout the house as #2 was being a little shit all day long just trying to get into things, fuck with the Christmas tree and being a defiant dick, throwing and knocking over anything she could get her hands on, and #1 being an uber-clingy barnacle to me the entire day, demanding my attention or having a meltdown if she wasn’t getting it.

Mythical wife and I declared that today was arguably, the hardest day we had as parents as we’d ever had, as in ever, and we both agreed that as much as we love the kids, this was one of those days where we just could not wait to put them down to bed for the evening.  I often think it’s cliché for people to crack open a cold alcoholic beverage after a trying day, but today definitely encapsulated the circumstances for it to sound like the greatest idea in the world, and not five minutes after I came downstairs after putting #1 to bed, it was straight to the fridge to pull out a Schofferhofer, one of the weak-ass fruit witbiers that I still actually enjoy drinking at home, when I feel like having something with a little booze in it.

As nihilistic and pessimistic as it might sound, this was just another year of holidays that I just can’t really get into and didn’t really look forward to, because this stage of parenting is just so overwhelmingly difficult on a daily basis, that I don’t really much like getting out of the routine, even for holidays in which we’re expected to be happy and thankful for things, because it just means a whole lot of extra work of preparing my home, hosting people, and a whole lot of gray area of childcare and eyes on the girls, resulting in mostly me feeling like I’m the only one who is mindful of the kids and being the primary person chasing after them and keeping watch over them, all while I have other responsibilities and expectations to do as well, because trying to do anything with kids around is automatically eight times harder than it should be, but I still have to do them anyway, hell or high water.

And I can’t help but think about holidays in the past prior to having kids, because they were all just so simple and full of space to have the capacity to think about things like traveling instead of hosting, contemplating Black Friday shopping, and actually having the money to do both, and I love my kids and family until the day I die, but there’s no denying just how different, simple and mindless life was prior to the rigors of raising kids.

Lots of parents of children far older than my own often like to say how things get easier as they age, which makes sense, but god damn there are times in which I can’t wait for those days to become reality in my life, because days like this I find myself cursing in private at how much I’m so sick of parenting sometimes, and wanting to scream and break shit over the aggravation of my kids can be when they both feel like being little asshole shits, and I feel bad for doing such, but I’m already always living in a state of high RPM stress on the regular, and I just wonder when things will actually calm down to where I don’t have to feel like this and dread holidays and can eventually get back to enjoying them again someday.

Dad Brog (#125): a great idea to help reduce spreading sickness

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I was driving home from the pediatrician with #1 having a meltdown, which was a continuation of the meltdown from the process of getting ready to go to the pediatrician just 45 minutes prior, and unsurprisingly, I was feeling pretty sour.  Both my kids are currently sick going into the Thanksgiving holiday, and once again I’m imagining nuclear shits for the parents of the kids that got my kids sick, and annoyed with everyone who tries to tell me that that’s just the way things are and I shouldn’t get so worked up over it.

Today was a follow-up appointment from two days ago, since #1’s sickness seemed a little worse, and she had to not only go on meds obviously, but this time, we were sent home with a nebulizer, because it was that much worse than the ordinary cold this time around.  Thankfully it wasn’t COVID or RSV, but it’s still unknown to why she’s got a wheeze in her chest that kept her from getting much sleep the night prior. 

Either way, I was a bit furrowed in the brow when I was told that it was another $35 copay for the follow-up, but obviously American healthcare is basically the worst ATM in existence, but we were literally there for five minutes in the exam room.  #1’s weight was taken, blood pressure and oxygen levels measured.  A stethoscope to the chest for 90 seconds, and then we were done and out the door; but a follow-up in a week was requested, which means that’ll be another $35 copay for probably another five minutes to tell us that things are continuing on the mend.

So I’m driving home, and I’m thinking how great it would be if the parents who sent the kids who got my kids sick and started this whole debacle would have to be on the hook for the ~$140 in doctor visits and meds that I’ve shelled out, and then it brought me joy imagining if that really were something that were possible: accurate responsibility of spreading families to be held accountable for the expenditures of the families of people they got sick.

I’m sure that would change American attitudes about going into work sick, sending sick kids into schools, and wearing masks in public when things aren’t fully healthy.  Like a parent sends Little Jimmy into school, knowing they’ve got a cough and snotty nose.  And then 10 days later, they get an invoice in the mail saying they’re on the hook for a co-pay and meds for Little Sally, who’s in Little Jimmy’s class and sits next to them in the classroom.  Or Karen goes to Target while she is hacking and sneezing but doesn’t mask.  And then a week later, thanks to facial recognition, they’re identified and sent an invoice for the medical expenses of the rando that was in the aisle with them looking for OTC medication that now has the flu.

Obviously, none of this is really possible due to incubation periods of viruses and the extreme big brother-ing necessary to pinpoint transmission possibilities, but if it were, and people were to be held accountable for their poor decision when it comes to dealing with the sicknesses of themselves or their offspring, I’m sure people would be way quicker to pull the trigger in using that sick time or keeping their kids at home to reduce the possibility of transmission, and society as a whole benefits from the reduction of spreading of nuisance illnesses.

But wouldn’t I feel some consolation satisfaction at knowing that the deadbeat parents that sent their sick kid to school who got my kid sick and brought the plague into my household, had to pay my medical bills.  The thought of it, even as impossible as it may be, would bring me great joy, if it were.

Dad Brog (#120): the 2023 Famiry Disney Trip

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Typically, I imagine a lot of people look forward to taking a week off and going down to Disney World with their families.  But a lot of people also aren’t stodgy curmudgeons who is always financially paranoid and also knows just how much work two toddlers are regardless of how many adults are going to be involved in the trip, so personally it’s not so much that I was gleefully looking forward to taking a week off at the Happiest Place on Earth™ as much as I was just mentally trying to psych myself up for the sheer amount of, lift, that would entail on a trip as such.

I mean, two of the things that are basically atop of my general pet peeve list these days are crowds and being up against a clock, and Disney trips are typically nothing but dealing with gargantuan crowds and always being up against a clock since there are fast passes, lightning lanes, genie passes or whatever else that puts clocks on top of everyone’s heads.  Not to mention despite the fact that the weather is just now finally starting to cool off in Georgia, we head down to Florida, where it’s still going to be 90F+ every day, along with the daily Florida rains to contend with, and it’s like asking myself, why do we keep coming back to Florida over and over again?

Regardless, I don’t want to be a total curmudgeon that brings down those all around me, so I did my best to be optimistic that things were going to be okay, and I deliberately planned absolutely nothing at all for myself, since trips like these really are for my kids above all else.  Because if I had any real allusions that I would have any actual time for anything that I wanted to do, I would be cranky in the very likely chance that they did not occur.

Overall, it was probably for the best that I went into the trip with such gameplan, because by simply rolling with the general agenda that mythical wife had set up and just reacting to what was in front of me, I can say that I think the trip went well, I didn’t burn out too much, and most importantly, I think my kids had a really great time, and I can take some really positive and core memories out of the trip as a whole.

Sure there were a few moments where I get fried where I feel like I’m the only one watching the kids while everyone around me is constantly shopping or indulging themselves while the girls grow restless and cranky and I’m the only one seemingly caring, but frankly this is often the case regardless of if we’re in Disney or Florida or anywhere really.

It’s the moments where I’m with my kids and I see them getting enjoyment or having fun in ways that aren’t available to them back at home, that make trips like these worth it, no matter how much angst or frustration I deal with at any other point during them.  Seeing my kids’ faces light up when they meet their favorite (current) Disney princess, or they get to eat something that we normally don’t let them eat at home, these are the true core memories that emerge from a trip while any of the fleeting frustration or grumpiness about daily changing sleeping arrangements get dumped into forgotten memories by the end of the trip.

But my god, I think the pinnacle of this trip for me, was seeing just how mind-blown and enthralled both of my girls were, when they experienced the big slide at our resort.  I had no real intention of letting either of them go down it, thinking they were too young or too small to handle it.  I figured the baby slide that was like 6 feet and a gentle, straight slope would be the highlight of their trip, and they seemed to like it fine, going down it like 30 times each, with me catching them at the bottom of it every time.

Then I noticed that some kids not much bigger or older than #1 coming down the big slide, and I’m asking the lifeguard if there was any age or size restrictions on it, to which they responded that there weren’t, other than kids like mine needing life jackets for safety reasons.  I stood at the bottom of the slide watching kids come down, and sure enough it wasn’t long before not just #1, but #2 wanted to try the slide, so it was the moment of truth to see if they could handle it or not, since we had the au pair who could catch them at the bottom while I took them up top.

Surely, one or both of my kids would be traumatized, or be that kid at the water park who puts on the hand brakes and gets themselves stuck and makes a scene, right??  I let #1 down the slide first, and she did a little bit of braking for herself, but otherwise went down the slide without any other incident.  #2, I had more concern for, being smaller and fragile, but when I set her on her way, watching her go down the slide, the smile on her face, man, was totally one of those things where if I could bottle that kind of joy and enjoyment and sell it to others, I would be rich three times over.

After sliding down myself to get my kids’ opinions on the slide, they were absolutely beside themselves and practically begging to get back up the stairs and go down the slide again, and again, and again, to which the au pair and I obliged and took turns at taking them up while the other caught them at the bottom.

After the 6th or 7th trip down the slide, I’m asking myself, why bother with exorbitant admission into the parks, when they’ve clearly found the highlight of their trip from one of our resort’s amenities?

Either way, that was probably my favorite memory of this year’s Disney trip.  I know that in future years, things will continue to get easier as my kids grow, and their sleeping arrangements change and settle, and we’ll need less and less assistance, but I can still say that this year’s trip wasn’t nearly as exhaustingly clunky as the one prior.

But of course, nothing can go too smooth, and despite the fact that the travel was going fairly smooth, it naturally came crashing to a literal stop, as it wasn’t until we started getting closer to Atlanta did we start to hit catastrophic traffic not just once, but two times, once in fucking McDonough, which is basically like the Gwinnett County that’s south of the city instead of north of it, and then naturally there’s a great big old nothing-caused turd of standstill traffic traversing through the actual City of Atlanta.

And I still don’t know what it was, although I suspect it might’ve been an excess of sun exposure, but I got waylaid pretty hard at the very end of the trip, dealing with a fever and body aches on the drive back, as well as throughout the weekend concluding our trip.

Overall, I’d say the trip was still pretty good though.  Several good memories were made with my family, and fewer things snap me out of grumpy moods than seeing my girls being filled with joy.  One of these years I’ll actually get to enjoy Food & Wine again, but I wouldn’t trade fun time with my kids for anything, so no regrets with forfeiting something I’ve done countless times already for the comfort and safety of my kids.

Dad Brog (#119): Sometimes I’d rather not know

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

For quite some time, I’ve usually been that type of guy that just never goes to the doctor, unless something is actively wrong.  Never did any annual checkups, physicals or anything other than eye exams or going to urgent care for what always seems like prednisone whenever I go.  I often used to say this stemmed from not wanting to miss out on work on account of the long stretch when I was freelancing and contracting, and when I wasn’t working then I wasn’t earning, but the truth is that even when I had landed full-time work with actual benefits, I still didn’t go then either, even if I were paying for it.

Then I got married, and that didn’t really change, except for the fact that I now had a wife that encouraged me to go, but I still made excuses and dragged my feet and resisted going, because I just didn’t really want to.  I felt fine, I exercised regularly, and I didn’t eat like a shithead too much, so I never felt like it was worth going since I felt fine, strong and healthy.

But then I had children, and I crossed into 40, so I finally relented and made the effort to at the very least, have an annual, just to make sure things were copacetic.  And last year, it was about what I had suspected, I was pretty much fine, with no real concerns.  I had little reason to think it was going to be any different this year, but if that were the case then I wouldn’t be writing this post now, would I?

The TL;DR is that it turns out that I’ve put on a not-insubstantial amount of weight, and my blood pressure is kind of high.  The thing is that despite the weight gain, my clothes all fit the same, save for some tightness in the chests of my shirts, but my pants all still fit, I still use the same rung on my belts, and I don’t really feel any different than I did physically a year ago, or longer.

But I don’t want to be the asshole who gets all “uuhhhhhh muscle weighs more than fat brah” and humble brag that I’ve been hitting the weights, and that my weight gain is solely based on the fact that I’ve been going to the gym with consistency over the last two years, versus the nearly two-year stretch in which I dropped a lot of muscle mass because of COVID affecting my ability to hit a gym.  Of course, I did hit my share of lazy stretches where my household eats a bunch of fast food or dines out/takes out more than we really should, but I do like to believe that some of my weight gain really is having put on some muscle mass back on over the last year.

The bigger thing though, is the blood pressure reading, that was high enough to where the tech and my doctor wanted to point it out as being high.  My knee-jerk reaction was to ask just how much correlation there is between BP and stress, to which the answer was a high one, and I feel like I already know why I’m having elevated blood pressure.

Continue reading “Dad Brog (#119): Sometimes I’d rather not know” →

I feel like I sacrifice more than an Ultimate Warrior promo

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

With a post title like this, one might think that this was going to be yet another whiny, my-life-is-difficult diatribe where it can be assumed that I’m in a foul mood of some sort.  The thing is, I’m actually not in a particularly bad mood or anything, but it is just something that’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I just felt like typing out some words to see if anything comes to fruition, as that’s something the brog has served for me occasionally throughout the literal decades.

But to get to the point, I feel as if the vast majority of my life these days is spent making sacrifices all the time.  I don’t drive my own car into work most of the time, because my car is the big safe dadmobile with the childrens’ seats already set up in them, and it’s left with my au pair so that she can drop off and pick up my children from pre-K.  I drive our third car, which has served me fine, but it is older, needs more care, and lacks some of the conveniences that my own car provides.

At home, I no longer have an office or a space of my own because of our choice to employ an au pair, which is no knock on them, as I still consider it one of the best decisions we made as parents, and one that I would easily recommend to other parents of young children.  But the point remains, when the house gets crowded, or I feel the want or need to just go somewhere in my own house to hide out and take a breath in, I don’t always have such a reprieve.  This was exacerbated numerous times over the last few weeks with several house guests, and I found myself in a position where I just wanted a little bit of privacy and couldn’t have it.

Most of the time however though, are the sacrifices of my time and general self I feel that I make, and I sometimes ponder if I’m doing it too much.  I basically have no hobbies left because I don’t have time for them because my weekdays are all spent working, parenting and then I have like 3-4 hours a night “off” which doesn’t account of the time it takes to clean up after the kids, reset the house, and prepare a litany of things for the following day, so I really have like two hours a night in which I’m truly free to be off and relax, but not without a clock over my head knowing that I have to sleep at a sensible time, so often times I don’t do anything that substantial or the things I want to commit meaningful time to because two hours a night just doesn’t cut it.

On our most recent “vacation” I sacrificed myself to ensure that our au pair could get to experience some things about Disney World, since it is important to me that she gets to actually live some semblance of life while here, and not just be a nanny to the kids, but what it results in is me taking kid duty and ultimately not getting to really do anything that I might want to do, not that I could think of anything I’d want to do in Disney World anymore these days.

The point is, I feel like I’m always in a state of constant sacrifice that I don’t really know where I’m generally at with my life anymore.  All I want is just a single day in which I can sleep in and not have to be the first one up, preparing breakfast, preparing everything, dealing with the girls’ cranky morning tantrums, and have some substantial time to myself.  It doesn’t sound like a lot, but I haven’t found myself in a position to be able to enjoy such considerations in quite some time, and I’m pretty sure the last time I was able to take some time off, was when I hopped on a plane to go to Texas to visit my brother.  But opportunities like that are few and far between, because I’m financially strapped because I’m always sacrificing everything I make to try to support a lifestyle that might be a little too extravagant for my personal preference.

I read a book not long ago about a half-Korean girl dealing with the passing of her mother to cancer.  Piggybacking off my prior post about crying, I think I was drawn to this book because I knew it was going to be a real tear-jerker and I was seeking out something to help burst my dams, but it was still a good read.  But one of the takeaways from the book, and I’m sure it was really meant to be sage wisdom passed down from a Korean mother to her daughter, but I feel like it could apply to a Korean man like me, was that far too often, there are people who give 100% of themselves to their families.  Such is not necessarily a bad thing, especially at the ages of my children, they need everything I can give to them, but her wisdom was to hold back 10% of one’s selves, and keep it for ourselves.

That stuck with me, because I feel like I’m currently living a life where I’m constantly giving 100% to my family, but in doing so, I’m completely devoid of having absolutely anything for myself.  Recently, I’m trying to look for ways to try and gain back any percentage of myself, and even if I succeed, I highly doubt that I’ll be able to get up to 10%.  I guess I’m just such a sacrifice-er, that if I can get to like 5% of myself back, that should be considered a win.

I tried to treat myself to a new pair of shoes; but like so many indulgences in the world, whenever I find something that I might like, it turns out to be what everyone else tends to like, and the specific shoes that I decided I want a pair of, apparently, they’re so hard to get a hold of, that when Foot Locker gets a new shipment of them in, they’re basically treated like an online queue lottery system that everyone has to fight over, and only the lucky ping lottery winners actually get an opportunity to get.  Seriously, I made it through the virtual queue in three minutes, but my size was apparently already sold out, and within ten minutes, they were sold out of all sizes, presumably because of re-sellers and StockX pirates just grabbing anything they can get their hands on.

So, so much for trying to get any semblance of any % back for myself in that regard, back to the drawing board.  But the bottom line is that I just need to stop sacrificing 100% of myself, and find little ways to keep semblances of me, for myself, otherwise I end up as, well, this.  An angsty, emotionally volatile, usually irritable and mad, deep-fried burnt out dad.