If you don’t want to
hearread me whining and wallowing in self-pity, continue right on to the next post in your feedreader or on your blogroll. This one’s been a-coming for awhile now, and it’s finally time to let loose before I explode or implode or whatever.
The bottom line is that I’m tired of being everything to everybody, or at least attempting to be. Because I can’t do it. I can’t keep up. And I’m getting sick of trying to and fighting off the feelings of drowning in “to-do” lists.
Before you call a crisis hot-line on my behalf–I’m not depressed. My idea of the whole world crashing down around me isn’t comparable to depression. Trust me. My mother was a guinea pig for so many depression medications that I got to see the super-highs , the super-lows, the drug-induced disaffection, and the whole spectrum of symptoms and side effects. I’d write a book, if I could just find the time or the energy. Which brings me right back to my point.
I’m just exhausted and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. And we don’t even have kids yet! The thought of adding to our family, adding to the dishes and the laundry and the DEPENDENCE. It scares the crap out of me
sometimes every time I think about it.
Between working full time at a demanding job that has beat me up and beat me down over the past 11 years, trying to stay involved in a few social activities so that I don’t become a complete hermit, staying in touch with my family (of which certain members think that phones only work in one direction), cooking (when I can find the time), cleaning, laundry, cleaning, more laundry and more cleaning, and then trying to get enough sleep so that I can do it all over again–I feel like I’m treading water. I can’t get anywhere.
My first natural line of defense for everything has always been to sleep it off. I knew I reached my limit this weekend when I slept for 8 hours Friday night, took a 2 hour nap on Saturday, slept 8 hours Saturday night, took a 2 1/2 hour nap on Sunday, and then slept 7 hours last night. Each time I woke up more exhausted than the last. I realized this morning after hitting snooze for 45 minutes and then dragging myself out of bed that I need to vent. I need to clear the air and start all over. I need to throw a big pity-party for myself and clear the slate.
My second natural line of defense has always been to bury myself in a book. I’ve read 7 books so far in the month of February and I’m currently in the middle of 3 more. And we’re not talking 150-page trashy romance novels that you can skim through–we’re talking 400-900 page novels with complex plots and seemingly minor details that you need to pay attention to in order to understand the plot-line. I’ve spent hours on goodreads–creating a virtual library of the books we own and the ones I want to read in the future. HOURS.
I know you’re thinking, “that crazy bitch isn’t getting anything done because she spends all of her time sleeping and reading and yet she’s bitching that she can’t keep up with stuff”, and it’s true. I’ve shut down. I spent over an hour cleaning the kitchen on Saturday, only to have it trashed within 30 minutes of Mike getting home. I stopped cleaning. I walked away, buried myself in a book or under the covers (and sometimes under the covers with a book) , and ignored the mess accumulating around me.
Most of my friends have a cleaning person. Even though I am way too cheap to even consider that as an option (and I know that I would feel that I had to clean before the cleaning person got there–you know what I mean), even that wouldn’t work. I don’t need a cleaning service, I would need a live-in maid. I spend so much of my time cleaning up after myself, Mike, and the cats (who are spoiled rotten and track litter everywhere and grind their food into the laundry room floor), that I never reach a stopping point. I finish one room, move on to the next, and by the time I’m done with that one, the first one is a mess. I can’t curl up on the couch to watch a movie because I feel like I just sit there glancing around the room at stuff that needs to be done. Not just stuff that I would like to do, stuff that NEEDS to be done.
It’s not like we live in squalor or anything (well, sometimes–don’t ever ask to see a picture of my bathroom), but I wasn’t brought up in a messy house and I have trouble dealing with messiness. Even if I had hours of free time each day, I wouldn’t vacuum for the sake of just doing it–it would have to NEED to get done in order for me to even think about it.
And don’t think I’m busting on Mike, because I’m not. I saw his bedroom when he lived with his parents. It still makes me shiver just thinking about it. I knew what I was getting into and have no complaints about housework being my responsibility. It’s just the housework in addition to everything else that’s weighing me down. I could easily write this same post and center it around my job, but I’d probably end up getting fired over some of the things I would write. And it’s not like I would get fired from housework, so I’m safe there.
One of my (many) problems is that I go to extremes. On just about everything. I can’t just open the pantry or the fridge and figure out what we’re having for dinner. I need to plan it out in advance, mark pages in a cookbook with post-its, make a grocery list, and go to the store. Seriously. And I’m that way with most things. If I can’t go all-out, I can’t start it up. In my crazy mind there’s a logical progression to everything, and that progression needs to be followed. Sometimes it’s simple and truly logical: take everything out of the laundry room before I mop the floor. Sometimes it’s so whacked-out that only I understand: in order for me to do our taxes, I need to take the big pile of receipts and bills and other miscellaneous correspondence and file it, even though I’ve already segregated all of the tax-related stuff from that big pile. And no, I haven’t done our taxes yet, because I have that monstrous pile of stuff to file first!
OK, I think I’m done. I guess my third line of defense is to spend time on the internet, because I’m totally using this as yet another avoidance technique.
Starting today, I have to make some changes. I’m not sure what they are yet, but I guess that’s one of the things I need to figure out. And first I have to make a list and consider all of my options and the different scenarios. Because I’m crazy like that.