So I forgot to explain to you why I’m here! I like to think it’s important and good to share feelings etc. You probably don’t care too much, but here you are reading it anyway. I’m a busy lady. And a giving lady. I’m so busy I forget how busy I am. In fact, just today I scheduled my daughter’s future swimming lesson at the exact same time I’m supposed to be taking an exam for one of my classes. But that’s not the point. Anyway.
I’m busy, and I spend my entire life getting up, getting my daughter ready for school, working all day, coming home, doing my homework, helping my daughter with her homework, helping my husband with his homework and then chugging a glass of wine while cleaning before I lose my shit. Rinse and repeat.
All of this stuff, this never ending list of just stuff that needs to be done at all times has really gotten to me lately. Especially during the fall and Spring. Because while I’m at home, in this never ending cycle, Tuesday and Thursday night and sometimes Saturday too, my husband gets to drop all of it. Gets to close the door with our crazy life behind it and go spend a few hours with his “guys” on the rugby field. He has a team, a family away from home and fun without responsibility.
Me? I have Doc McStuffins and something sticky on my pant leg. So with how busy I am and no magical break, I found myself feeling sad, out of it, unmotivated and honestly a little resentful. I worried about my lack of motivation and my inability to care. When the dishes hit about four feet of stacking on the kitchen counter, I knew something needed to change. So I found myself booking a doctors appointment.
So I find myself sitting on a table bed thing covered in giant crinkly paper, telling my doctor about how I never sleep, ever. But that I’m exhausted. All the time. After awhile of random questions and circling numbers 1 through 4 in dry erase marker on a little clipboard, my doctor tells me I should try some medication and try setting up a behavioral health appointment. So I do.
A few weeks later I’m sitting in this appointment, and I end up telling this random man (who looks slightly like a bobble head) all of the random things I just rambled to you about and how I’m tired and I kind of want to quit and I feel like it just isn’t fair. And for the first time in what seems like forever he says “What about you?” and I’m think, What about me? Here is where I get the world’s longest lecture, which was probably only about three minutes but felt like forever because someone lecturing me never ends in my head.
But anyway… here’s the point. I don’t… didn’t have anything that’s just mine. There’s no “rugby” for me. There’s no “playground” no real friends for hanging out… nothing that is mine and mine alone. And through a few weeks of Prozac, a lot of emotions, several glasses of wine and some internet research I found myself setting up a blog. So here I am. This is my blog.
This. Is. Mine.