I just needed a break.
I hadn’t been outside all day, so I stomped outside to our tiny sideyard and started blasting the hose watering the garden like I do most evenings. And then I just started crying. So I cried, finished watering, and then left. I just left.
I took a walk not really knowing where I was going (like how I am writing this blog post). I just needed a change of scenery.
I ended up lying flat on my back on a park bench and watched the fading light reflecting off the clouds for I don’t know how long.
Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, it helps me to just manically tackle my to-do list so I’ll feel some sense of control and competence as soon as possible. Other times, I just throw my hands up, say fuck it, and walk out the door.
This was obviously the latter, although it was just a short break from chores that I completed upon my return.
Since having a kid, one of my biggest struggles has been trying to accept that I will rarely get to do things that I want to do when I want to do them. On the surface, this is easy to accept. I have a kid and of course his needs usually come first. Yup, no problem. But living this every day? It’s fucking hard.
I’m a reasonable person (don’t ask other people to corroborate this). I am a planner. I’ve scaled my daily goals waaaaay back. Things like: Today I am going to do one load of laundry. Tomorrow perhaps I will clean the kitchen. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? Ugh.
Yesterday, I just finished (well, kind of) a project I had been working on for months. It was a struggle to finish. I just wanted to FUCKING GET IT DONE. And I was pushing it to the limit – Dylan needed to go to bed, there were chores to do, there was screaming and poopy diapers and food on the floor (thank goodness it wasn’t poopy diapers on the floor)- but goddamnit, for once I wanted to accomplish something for myself.
And then in my haste to finish, I made mistakes and when it was all said and done, I didn’t even feel any satisfaction. No pride. No accomplishment. Ok, well, maybe a little. But it was such a s.t.r.u.g.g.l.e and a letdown.
And so I cried and then left.
I don’t know what the answer is. I wonder how to change my mindset so I don’t continue this struggle that makes me and everyone around me feel like crap. But I also want a house that feels like a home. I want to do projects. I want to feel accomplished. And I have no problem doing this after I ensure that my kid, myself, my family are safe, fed, and clean.
Well, maybe just safe and fed.
Psychobabble 