My Many Colored Hats

I wear a lot of hats. I don't mean this literally as I only own one hat that I think is the least bit flattering (a gift from The Good Guy who has more fashion sense than I). What I mean is I have an enormous amount on my plate at the moment. I feel like I play several different roles, and I'm beginning to question my ability in all of them.

The following is a list of my hats. The list is not all-inclusive as I can't possibly name all of the metophorical hats I wear. These are simply the most prominant at this point in time, and in random order, certainly not by level of importance:

Hat 1: Full Time Student.
It sounds simple enough. Go to class, study, do homework, get a degree, make money. Right? Sure. Except, going to school as an adult who needs to take care of everyday monetary obligations is more complicated than it sounds. First of all there's the two hour commute 4 days a week. That's 8 hours a week in the car while time is a precious commodity. Not to mention, have you SEEN the prices of gas? Then there's the fact that I have much less time to work, so not only do I have normal every day bills, but I also have tuition, and rapidly mounting charge card debt because the money coming in is less than the money going out. Then there's the fact that I am a perfectionist and have a mental breakdown if I get anything below an A. I start hyperventilating if I believe my 4.0 is in jeapordy. Yes, I have a 4.0, so how can I possibly believe that I'm not good in this role? I'm scared, what if it's all book smarts? What if I get out into the field and find out that I just spent the last two years, and $30,000 to find out that I make a lousy therapist but a great student? I have a semester and a half to go and I'm burned out. For instance, right now I should be doing homework not staying up past 11:00 to vent into cyberspace.

Hat 2: Waitress
I waited tables for a summer to put myself through college the first time around (longer ago than I care to admit). I hated it. I wanted to quit by the end of every shift until I counted my money and realized that I would bring home as much money in one evening as I brought home working a 30 hour week in the grocery store where I had been employed for 5 years. I vowed after that summer that I would not wait tables again. The stress was too much, and quite frankly, I wasn't all that good. Well, when I broke my marriage vows and pursued a divorce I guess I was on a role. I broke the waiting tables vow, and here I am-a freakin' waitress once again. While my waitressing ability has improved I'm far from "super server girl". I have good nights and bad. For instance; I waited on a couple and their two kids last Friday night. The little girl was 10 and the boy was about 6. The little boy was a talker and I didn't have a lot of tables so I spent quite a bit of time conversing with the kid. As they left, the mom approached me and said it had been the best experience they had ever had in a restaurant, and that I was an excellent waitress. I was flattered. Tonight was an entirely different story. I was overwhelmed with 3 tables. No good waitress is overwhelmed with 3 tables for crying out loud! I had the Jewish 3 top-father, mother, and son. I approached the table, said "good evening folks", and was greeted with "CAN WE ORDER NOW?" before I completed the word "folks". They hadn't waited long, and they saw me delivering food to the table next to them, so it was rather obvious that I wasn't sitting around picking my nose. I knew at that moment I was looking at 10%-max, and I was right. Then there was the party of six. Five men and one woman-it was her birthday. The list of faux pas commited at this table was extensive. I forgot several drinks, forgot to serve a side dish with one of the meals and had to be reminded, spilled water, and forgot to bring bread. Horrific service. I'm better than that, but for some reason my head simply was not on straight. I was lucky. The table was comprised of at least 4 people who had waited tables before, and had stories of bad nights to share. It was a table of kindred spirits who tipped me 20% though it was not deserved. It was pity, but at this point in my life I need it so bring on the sympathy tips.

Hat 3, and perhaps the most complcated as well as stressful: Pseudo-Parent
The Good Guy and I are not married, therefore his kids aren't my step-kids. There is no fancy title for my role, and frankly, I tire of referring to them as "my boyfriend's kids". So, for the purpose of labeling this hat I went with pseudo-parent because though I don't have an official title, I am very much involved in their lives. I go to their school functions whenever my schedule permits it, and they truly seem to appreciate this. I'm half of the parenting team when we have custody and they understand that I have as much authority as their father. I make rules, and I enforce rules. I offer guidance and nurturing as well as punishment. However, parenting someone else's kids is no easy task. I think I'll devote an entire blog to this situation, as it warrants a lot of time and explanation. Let it be said, right now, that this is the heaviest and most beautiful hat I currently sport. Sometimes the weight is unbearable, but I don't know what I'd do without it.

Hat 4: Live-in Girlfriend
Student, waitress, pseudo-parent, childcare worker (I'll discuss this another time) and the grand finale for this blog is The Good Guy. This wonderful man endures the wrath that comes with the stress of my many hats. He is my sounding board, my confidant, my chef, my financial assistant, my masseuse, my shoulder to cry-on, and a great deal more. Currently I don't offer him as much as he offers me. I am a basket case. I am prone to unforeseen angry outbursts, fits of tears, and inability to make a decision. He takes it all in stride. Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect, but he puts up with a lot. He is supportive of my decision to go back to school, and doesn't hold a grudge when I blame him for a bad mood which usually has nothing to do with him. He puts up with much more than I could. I realize that I haven't always been this way, and that it won't last forever, but living with me right now can't be easy-he's amazing.

I had somewhat of a panic attack the other night. I gave The Good Guy a teary earful about my being horrible at parenting his kids and not being cut out for this role. However, that was just the hat that I happened to be wearing that evening. Had I been wearing my waitress hat, my breakdown would have involved my horrific waitressing skills, and the fact that I don't have any choice right now but to stick it out-we really need the money. Looking back it was a ludicrous freakout. I was (still am) exhausted. I've been living at this pace for almost 2 years and it's catching up to me. I'm tired of being broke and tired and feeling guilty because I'm not pulling my weight, and I'm scared to death that this gamble I'm taking with school won't pay off. What if I don't get a job? Then what? Back to waiting tables, or bagging groceries, or selling furniture, but with enormous loans to pay off? I'm scared that none of this will pan out, and that I've screwed us by sinking us into a financial abyss.

But...I still have good days; days when he makes me giggle, days when I can't stop smiling, days when the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight and my confidence is high. On these days I know that I'll be fine. Since these days still endure, I know I'm doing okay.