I Must Be Insane

I accomplished a lot yesterday. I was on fast forward from minute one. I did more in one day then I normaly get done in a week.

Yet I woke up this morning frowning as I waded through the mess of greeting cards from last years birthdays, scribbled pictures of Santa that were oddly enough drawn in October, and months and months worth of memories all in a big mixed up mess on my bedroom floor. I had to stop and remember that this was my mess. This was my thing I wanted to do. It has just grown to be something I dread and feel like I will never sort out. I can't just throw it all away. These are all the pictures and memories that I will have when the tide changes and my children are grown and gone and don't need me anymore.

I walked past the skeleton of the dining room table we tore up this weekend and growled at the pile of laundry still staring up at me from in front of the washing machine, daring me to wait until Thursday to try to finish it all so that I can pack for the weekend I just planned yesterday for Hope's birthday trip to The Magic Kingdom. I flipped on the dryer to reactivate the now familiar background noise of a belt or something broken somewhere inside slapping against metal. I guess I need to call the office. I should call for several reasons, in fact.

I noticed a couple of days ago pool is turning green and I found out our apartment complex doesn't pay their bills, which included the pool cleaning, so I am not taking the kids back until it is fixed. I have started a hundred different things. I am not a person who copes well with having a hundred different projects started and nothing finished.

I am now keeping track of my checking account balance on small sheets of notebook paper as I am out of those little checkbook ledgers. This annoys me greatly. Especially when I write sloppy when I am in a hurry. Even more especially when I can't seem to find the papers I shoved back down into my purse. I must find out if Office Depot carries those little ledger book things. Sometime. When I get to it.

I have to get the rest of my pictures imported into iPhoto but the massive amounts I have already transferred are making everything run so slow it makes me feel like murdering people.

Sometimes, I feel like I am trying to put a huge puzzle together with half of the pieces missing.

I am on page nine of that book I was so excited to read. Obviously, my life is too busy for reading. Does it matter if the words are things I need to know to be a better parent or to better understand my role in facilitating my children's lives and learning because if I spend any of the usable hours of my day reading about it then I don't have time to practice the ideals in the books to begin with?

I am grateful for all that I have. It is just that some days it is hard to remember to be happy. I know why I should be. It just seems out of reach sometimes when I am stretched so thin. I feel like I lose my sense of self sometimes. I feel guilty for feeling like this and that only makes me more depressed.

It makes me wonder if I am insane. To know that right now I feel so overwhelmed and busy with my children to the point of making me feel this way and that in a few short years I will be this way because they are gone and I won't know what to do with my time anymore.

Posted by gwendolyn on July 01, 2003 at 03:02 PM