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| Rule #1: Downtime begins with yoga pants. |
I feel a little panicky lately. It's like
being a lot panicky, but with a bag of cookies. The feeling comes on, and you
can slip one of those bad boys in your mouth to block the screaming sound.
Don't judge. It's a system that works.
I'm juggling, you guys. I'm juggling like I
have never juggled before. I'm juggler - a really, really bad one, but with a
cute outfit on because you shouldn't take on something if you can't look good
doing it. (Exceptions: giving birth, being constipated, and most bacterial
infections.)
I have a ridiculous amount of balls in the
air: Support the teenager through his graduating year, support the little one
who is still behind in French Immersion, support their sister through the
biggest change of her life (and ours), and support my husband in his new (and
more demanding) role at work.
Homeschool Gutsy, attend a host of medical
appointments and support groups, finish high school, volunteer a little at
Spawnling's school, shop and cook on a budget, score some work contracts to
help with said budget and find time to do them.
Oh, but don't forget to keep writing the
stuff you love, work out, spend time with friends, enjoy a hobby or two, hang
out a bit on social media, and look totally fabulous. Don't lose yourself,
Maven. Don't spend your entire life being everyone else's support. Be amazing
for them and be amazingly you.
Do all the things. Clean all the things.
Cook all the things. Be all the
things.
Holy Hannibal, that's a lot to bite off.
When I look at my sizeable list of
responsibilities, I'm not surprised that I'm constantly dropping balls. I'm an
epic ball dropper. Actually, it's a wonder I got pregnant three times.
So I maybe kind of snapped yesterday a
little bit. Not in a bad way, but in a much needed one. I decided that, for an
entire day, I would just say, "fuck it."
Fuck
responsibilities.
Fuck
productivity.
Fuck
getting dressed.
Fuck
checking my phone, which I normally cradle in my
arms like a little baby and practically coo at as I carry it from room to room
with me. I threw it on my bed and ignored it most of the day.
Fuck
being a good parent. Kids, stay in your PJs and eat
Fruity Pebbles and watch YouTube videos to your heart's content. I did not
insist they play outside and did not insist they eat all their fruits and
vegetables. I was too busy not doing anything.
Fuck
doing smart people things. I love documentaries,
but keeping up with theories about what's beyond the universe or discussions as
to whether or not the Amish will ever join the 21st century sounded like too
much work. So I binge watched terrible reality TV. Awful stuff. I got wrapped
up in other people's drama and I loved every minute of it. All the fights. All
the hookups. All of it.
Fuck
watching carbs. You know what? I like carbs. And yesterday
I ate tons of them. Toast. Chocolate. Chips. A fucking sandwich. And it
was delicious and so awesome not to care what I was eating for one whole day.
And you know what? I found myself feeling
almost human by the end of the day. It made me realize that I don't unplug and
decompress nearly enough. I'm always on.
My adrenaline is always going. My
mind is always racing. I'm always
worried. I'm always a breath away from hyperventilating.
And let's face it; you can't be attractive
when you're hyperventilating, people. If anything, I need to get it together in
the name of vanity.
It sucks to feel buried under a mountain of
obligations. I've been there for months. But in many ways, it's a self-imposed
prison. Yes, I have stuff to do. Lots of stuff. I have responsibilities I can't
even begin to wrap my head around yet. Helping a child switch genders? I could
write a book about it (and, actually, I am.) But my expectations of myself are
high, and the worry that I'll let everyone around me down by not performing at
my best is completely unfair.
I can't do it all. I can't. No one person
could.
Some of the balls are going to drop some of
the time. I will be mediocre at best when it comes to certain tasks so I can
rock the ones that really matter. Some things will fall off my radar completely
so my mind can focus on the crucial things. People will get upset with me
sometimes for not returning their phone calls or texts fast enough, or for
saying no to an event or twelve. That's life. This perfectionist attitude I've
been holding onto only leads to tears - and cookies. So many cookies.
So yes, I had a moment. I was entitled to
one and I'm entitled to many more. And I will take them when I need them.
There's an abundance of bad reality TV out there.
Why am I making my moment public? Because
we all have them, that's why. Moments like these are part of the human
experience. They're when we're standing on the precipice and we either veer off
in the direction of a day of carbs and PJs or we fall into the burnout abyss. I've
fallen in there before and it's not pretty. The humidity does terrible things
to my hair.
I want people to know that no matter what
your situation is, it's ok to lose your shit sometimes. It's ok to not know
what you're doing and be scared about it. It's ok to worry that you're making
huge mistakes. It's ok to feel like you're taking on way too much, because you
probably are.
And it's ok to throw your hands up and say
fuck it. Today, just fuck it all. I declare it slippers and cookies day.
Just not too many cookies. There's such a
thing as too many. Trust me and my pancreas; we know.
Today I am going to do what I need to do, a
little bit of what I want to do, and absolutely none of the things I tell
myself I need to do but don't actually need to do at all. It's time to slow it down
a little. The abyss is still only a step or two away.
I'm off to hang up my juggler's outfit and
put on some yoga pants. This bitch loves some yoga pants.