Living the dream…or am I?

imageStress is something I wear daily. Sometimes it feels like everything is sprinkled with it, like some twisted version of pixie dust.

I start out each day as a brand new day. I try not to let yesterday’s bullshit affect today’s bullshit. I wake up with one eye open and the looming question “what will I deal with today?”

It’s a guarantee that I’ll deal with the puppy, sibling fights, food requests and meltdowns. Complaints of being bored, not wanting to do chores and whines about my having to work later. I’ll cook, I’ll clean and probably do a load or two of laundry. I’ll go to work, get home and all the work I did during the day will be undone. It’s the very definition of madness.

This is why I have breakdowns.

The monotony of life and the constant stresses just get to me after awhile. When my only reprieve is sleep or working, I can only take so much before I snap.

I’m not proud of breaking down, but it’s just become a part of my life. Everyone has a limit to the bullshit they can deal with and when they reach that limit, all bets are off.

I don’t even have time to have the true nervous breakdown I deserve. I have to keep my wits about me, to take care of everything. Because if I don’t, who will?

I had a therapist tell me once that I should stop taking care of everything. He said that I should just let go and eventually others would pick up the slack. I tried it, and I just ended up with a monumental pile of stuff to deal with. Which led me to the question “why should I have to live in shit because others won’t pitch in and help?” I’m not a neat freak by any means, but I do like things to be clean. But with a family of five, that’s constant work. And I just don’t have it in me to be the gestapo of housework.

My time right now, sitting on my porch with my coffee and my thoughts, is my favorite time. The Florida ick hasn’t yet moved in, the birds are chirping (although about what I have no idea) and it’s quiet. I’ve only been interrupted twice and it’s not even eight. I don’t have to go to work for about nine hours so that gives me the whole day to do all kinds of things. Domestic things. Motherly things.

I’m living the freakin’ dream.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s