I have come to the realisation that I have no clue what’s actually going on in my life, in my head and sometimes in my own house.
When you’re operating at a pace of approximately 300km/h I don’t think that it’s that unusual.
Today, I had a few hours all to myself, felt at a loss and wandered into my nearest shopping centre to browse uninterrupted. [fyi – no good deed goes unpunished and I got stuck in a dress in a change-room, the zip went up fine but contorting myself to undo it after, well that was quite impossible and was a lesson to self – make sure the attendant is actually attending in the changeroom!].
On the drive home I started thinking – because the Big O has been unbelievably irritated with me – about whether it was me (and not him – see I have the odd rational moment).
Yesterday I might have been a bit short – recovering from a chest infection and not breathing properly possibly made me snappy and unwilling to communicate/play nice.
And then I started thinking about whether I am irritable. All the time.
And all I can say is that I don’t really know. Truly I don’t.
I know that I haven’t in ages felt anything strongly – be it joy, sadness, happiness – whatever – because I honestly haven’t had time to think about it.
My prime concern is making sure the logistics of work, children, school, extra-curricular activities, gym, laundry, groceries and cooking are in place and actually come together so that the wheel’s don’t fall off of the 16 wheel semi-trailer of my life.
I know that when I get into bed at night, it’s been a good day if nothing’s gone wrong, no-one’s been late, the washing’s hung, people are fed and lunch for school the next day’s been made. And it’s been a really good day if I’ve managed a gym workout at 5.45am and have another one planned for the next morning.
I’m operating at what I perceive to be an optimum level but on an emotional level could it be that I’m lagging way behind in the achievement stakes?
What I do know is that I covet every minute of time that I am left in peace to quietly read a book or check my social networking sites. And when someone interrupts me, well, clearly I’m not hiding my displeasure as well as I thought.
My question to those out there feeling similarly is really, how much energy can one person expend doing it all? And can we be expected to be happy all the time when what you really want to do is throw yourself down in a heap on the floor and say “I can’t do this anymore because I am scared I will get sick and die I’m so tired”. [But really, who’s got time for that anyway?]
So while I indulge in my pity party of approximately six seconds I remember that there are people out there that are doing it tough. That are worse off than me. Mothers that walk for miles to get fresh drinking water for their children. Mothers that walk miles to get medical care for their children and mothers that are doing it all on their own.
So I guess I should put a smile on that face, shelve the irritability and go and apologise to my husband. Yes people, there’s a first time for everything.
Happy Easter Weekend and to my Jewish friends – happy Passover – if matzoballs aren’t making you irritable, nothing will!