The Walking Wounded

There is a lot of pent up anger and unhappiness in this place. People and their families have been abused, imprisoned, and beaten down by so many internal and external forces. When a car cuts me off or the driver behind me is honking his horn in impatient annoyance, I try to remember this and to bring empathy to the situation.

I have been unfortunately feeling a bit like the walking wounded myself lately with what I've experienced at the hands of others: a colleague screaming at my consultants at the top of her lungs, another colleague insulting my work via email (I kind of give the other colleague more credit doing it face to face even though the delivery method still could have been approved), another colleague creating an entire web of lies just so she wouldn't have to face my disappointment at the truth, a "friend" once more throwing her selfishness and unreliability in my face. Oh, how many times I have to learn the same lesson! I wish life was kind of like how we learn simple addition in school - once you learn the concept, you don't have to face trying to learn it over and over again.

My son's teacher had the mandatory beginning of the school year parent's ("mother") meeting this past week. Even though I can only understand about 50% of these meetings, I still attend to send the message that I take my child's education seriously. Also, I had received a note home earlier in the week about his behavior at school so I wanted to meet the teachers face-to-face. The English teacher was first up on the agenda, and after presenting to the parents all the different teaching methods she's using, she came over to sit next to me to discuss my son's recent antics at school. My talkative son has also apparently been discussing with the English teacher my not-so-professional babysitter who talks on the phone and lays down on the couch for a rest occassionally (an issue which I have been dealing seperately on my own). The teacher concludes confidently to me, "Your child needs much more attention at home!" She gives me a pat on my knee and walks out the door leaving the floor to the Arabic homeroom teacher.

I sit in my seat, numb, fighting back tears. For 5 nights I have not cooked myself dinner because I've been spending all my free time in the evenings with my son, trying to support him through the adjustment of school, trying to plan a rather simple birthday party, and just trying to make sure I have whatever I need to get through the next day.

I looked around the meeting room to see what kind of other mothers (who for some reason in this culture are held 100% responsible for looking after their children's education) were in my company. I couldn't help but notice two mothers in particular. Sitting next to each other, they resembled twin versions of Barbie. They obviously had had a lot of plastic surgery, especially in their faces, their hair is straightened, dyed blond, and they're each wearing *bling bling* 6 inch heals. I notice their perfectly manicured nails and their slim figures.

I'm jealous, so jealous....obviously these women have the time to spend on themselves. Obviously, since they're not getting any special attention from the teachers their children must be getting enough attention at home to be so well behaved. Obviously, these ladies are not working 50 hour weeks, managing a limited household budget, feeling anxiety about the mental health of themselves and their children, trying to provide everything that is needed in an environment where they have trouble communicating their needs, being verbally abused by colleagues and taken advantage of by friends. However, there may be one area that we have in common.....our low self esteem. We are the walking wounded.