I logged in to my blog and I don’t know why. I can’t remember thinking of something I needed to write, I just know that I re-opened my browser just now and came to this page and logged it.
It could be that there is so much going on right now that instinct took over and told me I have some things to write out. And I do, but this is not the best place just now.
This year is shaping up to be one of the worst I’ve ever had, with some pretty great stuff happening too. It’s incredibly scary just at the moment. Scary and complicated. A whole lot of questions with no answers.
A lot of things I need to do contrasted with things I want to do.
I would love to be taking care of myself and indulging in my favourite things – spending time reading or drawing or knitting. I would love to be totally focused when I need to be, and then a different, relaxed kind of focus when things are easier.
I would love to be everything to everybody. I would love to drop everything when my kid tells me she feels that we haven’t spent much time together so that I can take her on more whirlwind adventures. But I can’t.
And just now the panicked ‘can’t’ feeling is taking over a lot. The panic and the fatigue.
I want to be there for my kid and my husband and my friends, but right now there are days I can barely be there for myself I’m so tired.
I wish there was time to breathe, but it almost feels like adults don’t get that.
I want to fight the good fight. I want to raise up other women. I want to have read all the books and watched all the movies, I want to spend days cuddled up with my dog watching the worst television possible. I want to be absolutely on top of my work to-do list.
But sometimes I just sit down at my desk and all I can do is tidy it because the piles of stuff are overwhelming. Only once the papers make sense can the real work begin. Only once I’ve read the morning news. Found the right pen. Re-written my lists.
Only once I’ve had a certain amount of quiet time to myself can I go to sleep. Only after this one thing has been tidied up. Only after I’ve delivered a list to Joe of things I don’t want to forget that will get forgotten anyway. Only after I’ve done this one errand will I be able to stop thinking about it and move on. Only after I’ve gotten some fresh air.
I’m running out of fight. There are days when everything is hard and I don’t win. Conversations with the kid are stilted because she’s frustrated that something didn’t go her way or I said no. One bad thing ruins anything good the day had to offer.
Another day and the house doesn’t get cleaned, another day and my laundry doesn’t get put away, another day that I don’t pick up my sketch pad or the book I’m reading.
Another day when I wonder what’s wrong with me and what I can do to fix it, and what I can do to make her feel better, and what I can do to change all of me.