Brain dump on a "non-productive" Saturday evening...
I sat down this evening for the first time in what felt like weeks. What was originally supposed to be a light work day (with overtime!) and then friendship time for both myself and Momma turned into a verifiable clusterfuck. She called at 0545, asking for me to bring over whatever aspirin I may have. I went there for an hour, came home to nap on the couch for an hour, then worked for six. I did evals and individual therapy, then dutifully called my mother, who reliably canceled on my aunt. Again.
So I canceled on my friend. Because maybe staying home was what my mental health needed.
I took a shower in my house for the first time in weeks, using the boogie shampoo and conditioner I had lamented about but really enjoy for my hair. We ordered delicious pizza, then Fidget left me for a story.
AND I SAT ON MY COUCH FOR HOURS.
I watched rom coms and ate chocolate, periodically rearranging cats and texting Kayrin about how Old we are now indeed. I'm halfway through my third movie now. I haven't sat like this, not cleaning, not organizing, not planning for a very, very long time.
My life is about to get a bit crazy, like before-Baltimore crazy. I'm picking up on-call and will be working some semblance of what Volcano Harbor offers as swing. I will have early mornings and early evenings, and I know I'll do it well. And I'll make extra money to boot.
I am trying to be hopeful, but I am so, so tired. Running two households is a lot, especially when this one has cats and needs and so many projects I'm forever working on and not nearly accomplishing enough of. I sometimes fantasize that my house will one day be like some Better Homes and Gardens, but instead, I'm almost 40 and it continues to look like we've haphazardly thrown things around and have no real style. I'm always chasing Fidget to put things away, fighting last weekend to pull apart the guest room closet to purge away our queen comforters and other dressings since we no longer have that bed.
I wonder if I have to paint?
The awesome pizza from tonight was consumed and overran by ants, which disappointed Fidget but flared thoughts of laziness I haven't had to address in several years. I could've just put it in the oven. It's my fault it's ruined. We wasted so much money. Indeed, Fidget put the box with ant-y pizza in the trash and out it went.
Do we need help? What are we doing?
Am I waiting for her to die?
I've come to the realization lately that I've been predominantly taking care of my parents for four years and that's kinda mind-blowing in its own regard. Running two houses, plus working a full-time and part-time job, and trying to keep my mind afloat. While my marriage with Fidget is much better now that other medications are on board, there's this weird sense of waiting. Do we need to talk about independent living? Will a new caregiver give me more brainspace? The most recent hire quit because her face swelled due to the smoke. I have two interviews lined up, so maybe a new one will be able to tolerate my mother.
I'm not getting a whole lot of time for me and I've noticed this during this week since I've barely written in my planner. Overall, my notes for Volcano Harbor AND my practice are comically behind. While I know I'll get caught up bill-wise, it's more telling that my planner is empty.
I canceled on a very good friend tonight because I didn't want to have to expend the energy. I didn't want to tell my story. I wanted to sit in the cold dark of my living room and watch rom coms.
And that's okay. I don't get many, if any, of these nights. My energy to do and accomplish things in my home have waned significantly during this month- I feel like it started with a vacation hangover? That felt bizarre- we drove to New Jersey for two nights with friends I've had for 20 years and played video games. I wasn't responsible for awhile. I had my husband with me, which was fine. And we ate good food and I frolicked back in the waves for a bit, trying to let the salt heal my battered soul for awhile.
Instead, my foot got all twisted up and I limped for a day. Again, we're Old now.
There's these half-completed projects throughout our house, things that need to be cleaned or caulked or finally sorted and brought out. But I'm always doing those things? Google likes to remind me with those "This Week Three Years Ago" stints which makes me reflect on finally finishing a wall, or "yes, Jess, your credenza will always been an issue as long as you're married to Fidget." So I'll move that bed or rearrange a cabinet or leave a half-stickered wall up in my kitchen for whom knows how long because I don't have the energy right then to finish a Thing. Overall, the Thing will be finished.
The undying energy I have for my mother is waning. Trying to handle tasks or do best by her. Yes, I'm efficient and I get those things done, but it's forever two steps forward and one step back. So while I'm moving forward, it never feels like I'm making any ground.
I had an exceptional birthday week, though. I took a week off and actually felt like I could relax. I saw friends, had a mini socially-distancing party including s'mores, and Momma had a housekeeper that I didn't know was going to quit yet. Things were pretty good.
Why am I not satisfied? Is it that German drive to succeed? Is it my father's voice, urging me to not be lazy? I know inherently, I am not. But the toddling is constant and forever. I accomplish some sort of Big Task (I finally vacuumed the stairs!) and revel it in momentarily until the newness wears away. Then my attention shifts to the next thing bothering me (what is happening with our trash can? I will be Efficient and let it soak outside in the sun for hours) until I complete that and the cycle begins again.
I need to give myself space for the next several weeks while I'm trying to pull off this on-call heist and swing shift work. We start with new meals this week, so that will either be cool or fail miserably, but in any regard, it'll be a learning experience. Maybe I'll do another spin class. Maybe I'll remember to walk to Angel this week. I can't let my hope, which I think is my best quality, be diminished by the mundane day-to-day bullshit of what it means to be an Adult.
I'll do these interviews this week, and maybe one of these new possible housekeepers will be the fit to tolerate Momma. And I can get some time back. Some time to toddle in my house or spin or to just sit.
The disparity and discord in my brain is loud: "HOW COULD YOU SIT FOR AN EVENING. LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU COULD HAVE DONE." And true, my brain is right. But also, dumb. I can sit for an evening and the world won't fall apart. Those chores or that charting or figuring out sorting will be there tomorrow. And tomorrow is a new day with new possibilities or failures! Who knows?
I sometimes fantasize about when we first moved into this house, before grad school, before my parents, before cats. What did we do? How simple our lives were then with no money and trying to settle into a three-bedroom two-floor home when we had a basement apartment. Do we invest in each other enough? Fidget has made me chuckle and laugh so hard lately- I had forgotten it's what we used to do. When we weren't coordinating about who's going where for what job and did CheddarLion get his pills that day and when I'm going to my mother's.
I've thought of writing to my father as well; am I doing right by you? And if he were still alive, there would be this effusive YES with subtle baggage of "No." Do more, be more, attain more. Despite that I am only one person and there's a LOT going on here, but then again, there's a lot going on everywhere. Maybe it was the abundance of sirens today or the thought I should purge the toys to take to the station, or that clip from one of the movies of cooking and eating in a station.
I was doing well for awhile, redirecting my energies into myself. I think I need to do that again, or get back into that schedule. Again, maybe it is the vacation hangover, but I seem to have lost that momentum I had before we skipped away to a beach in New Jersey for a few days. Little by little, things will get situated and there will always be something to do. Do I need more plans? More time home? More help for Momma? Always more, more, more. What is outside my control will forever be outside my control. I should respect my own boundaries like my coworkers praise me for them.
Maybe this journal entry braindump is what I needed. Who knows? I may come back to this months from now with "yup, that didn't change." And that's cool. But we're resilient if anything...
... always been a tough board to never put asunder.
So I canceled on my friend. Because maybe staying home was what my mental health needed.
I took a shower in my house for the first time in weeks, using the boogie shampoo and conditioner I had lamented about but really enjoy for my hair. We ordered delicious pizza, then Fidget left me for a story.
AND I SAT ON MY COUCH FOR HOURS.
I watched rom coms and ate chocolate, periodically rearranging cats and texting Kayrin about how Old we are now indeed. I'm halfway through my third movie now. I haven't sat like this, not cleaning, not organizing, not planning for a very, very long time.
My life is about to get a bit crazy, like before-Baltimore crazy. I'm picking up on-call and will be working some semblance of what Volcano Harbor offers as swing. I will have early mornings and early evenings, and I know I'll do it well. And I'll make extra money to boot.
I am trying to be hopeful, but I am so, so tired. Running two households is a lot, especially when this one has cats and needs and so many projects I'm forever working on and not nearly accomplishing enough of. I sometimes fantasize that my house will one day be like some Better Homes and Gardens, but instead, I'm almost 40 and it continues to look like we've haphazardly thrown things around and have no real style. I'm always chasing Fidget to put things away, fighting last weekend to pull apart the guest room closet to purge away our queen comforters and other dressings since we no longer have that bed.
I wonder if I have to paint?
The awesome pizza from tonight was consumed and overran by ants, which disappointed Fidget but flared thoughts of laziness I haven't had to address in several years. I could've just put it in the oven. It's my fault it's ruined. We wasted so much money. Indeed, Fidget put the box with ant-y pizza in the trash and out it went.
Do we need help? What are we doing?
Am I waiting for her to die?
I've come to the realization lately that I've been predominantly taking care of my parents for four years and that's kinda mind-blowing in its own regard. Running two houses, plus working a full-time and part-time job, and trying to keep my mind afloat. While my marriage with Fidget is much better now that other medications are on board, there's this weird sense of waiting. Do we need to talk about independent living? Will a new caregiver give me more brainspace? The most recent hire quit because her face swelled due to the smoke. I have two interviews lined up, so maybe a new one will be able to tolerate my mother.
I'm not getting a whole lot of time for me and I've noticed this during this week since I've barely written in my planner. Overall, my notes for Volcano Harbor AND my practice are comically behind. While I know I'll get caught up bill-wise, it's more telling that my planner is empty.
I canceled on a very good friend tonight because I didn't want to have to expend the energy. I didn't want to tell my story. I wanted to sit in the cold dark of my living room and watch rom coms.
And that's okay. I don't get many, if any, of these nights. My energy to do and accomplish things in my home have waned significantly during this month- I feel like it started with a vacation hangover? That felt bizarre- we drove to New Jersey for two nights with friends I've had for 20 years and played video games. I wasn't responsible for awhile. I had my husband with me, which was fine. And we ate good food and I frolicked back in the waves for a bit, trying to let the salt heal my battered soul for awhile.
Instead, my foot got all twisted up and I limped for a day. Again, we're Old now.
There's these half-completed projects throughout our house, things that need to be cleaned or caulked or finally sorted and brought out. But I'm always doing those things? Google likes to remind me with those "This Week Three Years Ago" stints which makes me reflect on finally finishing a wall, or "yes, Jess, your credenza will always been an issue as long as you're married to Fidget." So I'll move that bed or rearrange a cabinet or leave a half-stickered wall up in my kitchen for whom knows how long because I don't have the energy right then to finish a Thing. Overall, the Thing will be finished.
The undying energy I have for my mother is waning. Trying to handle tasks or do best by her. Yes, I'm efficient and I get those things done, but it's forever two steps forward and one step back. So while I'm moving forward, it never feels like I'm making any ground.
I had an exceptional birthday week, though. I took a week off and actually felt like I could relax. I saw friends, had a mini socially-distancing party including s'mores, and Momma had a housekeeper that I didn't know was going to quit yet. Things were pretty good.
Why am I not satisfied? Is it that German drive to succeed? Is it my father's voice, urging me to not be lazy? I know inherently, I am not. But the toddling is constant and forever. I accomplish some sort of Big Task (I finally vacuumed the stairs!) and revel it in momentarily until the newness wears away. Then my attention shifts to the next thing bothering me (what is happening with our trash can? I will be Efficient and let it soak outside in the sun for hours) until I complete that and the cycle begins again.
I need to give myself space for the next several weeks while I'm trying to pull off this on-call heist and swing shift work. We start with new meals this week, so that will either be cool or fail miserably, but in any regard, it'll be a learning experience. Maybe I'll do another spin class. Maybe I'll remember to walk to Angel this week. I can't let my hope, which I think is my best quality, be diminished by the mundane day-to-day bullshit of what it means to be an Adult.
I'll do these interviews this week, and maybe one of these new possible housekeepers will be the fit to tolerate Momma. And I can get some time back. Some time to toddle in my house or spin or to just sit.
The disparity and discord in my brain is loud: "HOW COULD YOU SIT FOR AN EVENING. LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU COULD HAVE DONE." And true, my brain is right. But also, dumb. I can sit for an evening and the world won't fall apart. Those chores or that charting or figuring out sorting will be there tomorrow. And tomorrow is a new day with new possibilities or failures! Who knows?
I sometimes fantasize about when we first moved into this house, before grad school, before my parents, before cats. What did we do? How simple our lives were then with no money and trying to settle into a three-bedroom two-floor home when we had a basement apartment. Do we invest in each other enough? Fidget has made me chuckle and laugh so hard lately- I had forgotten it's what we used to do. When we weren't coordinating about who's going where for what job and did CheddarLion get his pills that day and when I'm going to my mother's.
I've thought of writing to my father as well; am I doing right by you? And if he were still alive, there would be this effusive YES with subtle baggage of "No." Do more, be more, attain more. Despite that I am only one person and there's a LOT going on here, but then again, there's a lot going on everywhere. Maybe it was the abundance of sirens today or the thought I should purge the toys to take to the station, or that clip from one of the movies of cooking and eating in a station.
I was doing well for awhile, redirecting my energies into myself. I think I need to do that again, or get back into that schedule. Again, maybe it is the vacation hangover, but I seem to have lost that momentum I had before we skipped away to a beach in New Jersey for a few days. Little by little, things will get situated and there will always be something to do. Do I need more plans? More time home? More help for Momma? Always more, more, more. What is outside my control will forever be outside my control. I should respect my own boundaries like my coworkers praise me for them.
Maybe this journal entry braindump is what I needed. Who knows? I may come back to this months from now with "yup, that didn't change." And that's cool. But we're resilient if anything...
... always been a tough board to never put asunder.