You know, by nature I am a pretty chill gal. I don’t believe in violence towards my fellow man. That includes actions or even words. I think the world would be a better place if we were all a little kinder to each other. Then there are those days….
Today is one of those days. Probably because I didn’t sleep well last night, possibly because I am a bit hormonal, definitely because I am just tired. This is tired beyond sleep, beyond anything even a week off from work can cure. This is the kind of tired that has set into my soul because I feel like I am always being pushed, by everything and everyone all the time. Choices, right?
I try to keep it together. I think this is partially a result of growing up fat. When you’re the fat kid the one thing you can’t do is let other people see you struggle. If you struggle or need help then you fulfill every fat stereotype out there. You’re not capable. You’re lazy. You’re a “can’t” and a “don’t” all rolled up into one rolly-polly package. Fat people can’t do things, so don’t become a fat person. Being fat isn’t a physical failing. It is a moral one.
So, I try to keep it together. But some days, when I take a moment to look up from having my nose on the grindstone, I wonder what it’s all for.
It’s like folding underwear. What’s the point?
And sometimes that makes me angry.
I’m not generally resentful of my life, because: Choices. There are times, however, when I want to scream and throw things like a 2-year-old. I’m normally, happy, fun, loving Liz. But in those moments, I want to become LIZ SMASH!
Of course, then who is gonna’ have to pick up the broken pieces though?
I mean, I don’t really want there to be broken pieces, not of my life. I just want to pressure to stop. Stop asking for things, or asking me to fix things, and put on your own dang socks, kid! Let me have a minute when I am not being pushed or pulled by anything, by asks and expectations. And, really, when I think of it, I want other people and things to stop putting expectations on me.
Really, though, are they? Probably not. There is one person in my life who is responsible for every dang bit of pressure put on me. Surprise, it’s me!
Not only am I responsible for the pressure to please, but I am also responsible for taking on so much that I feel like I have to juggle frantically to keep up. Does everyone feel this way?
I don’t know how to take on less or to put aside my need to try and live up to what other folks expect. I am the go-to person. I am the one with the answers. And most of the time I like that role. I like being in charge and in the know. The thing they never tell you, when they put on that supreme ruler of the world crown, is that there are downsides. Once the crown is on, it ain’t coming off. Not to sleep, not to eat, not to have five minutes in the restroom where a kid isn’t asking you to brush their hair or look at what they just drew. Heavy is the crown, right?
Really, I don’t resent my life. I LOVE it.
Then, what do I do now? Well, with anything in life, if you want it to grow, you feed it. When I’m feeling negative, when I’m feeling resentful, or angry, I’m not going to feed that. Instead I feed the things I want to grow. I look at pictures or videos of my kids and my husband. I make a list of things that I want to accomplish – positive goals. I watch a little stupid reality TV, or listen to music and flip through a magazine mindlessly. I am both distracting myself and finding things that make me feel good so I can feed that, not the negative. I look at what I have and I look at the situation I could be in – people certainly have it a lot worse off than me. I focus on gratitude and attitude. And sometimes, I even fake it.
Today, my coping mechanism is writing. Today, I started out with some angry words pointed at someone I love, and now I am typing these words and realizing that there is someone I need to apologize to.
So, I will. I will put on my big girl panties (the ones I don’t bother to fold) and I will apologize. And I will post this blog. And I will get on with it, answering the questions, fixing the problems, brushing the hair, being the pretty chill gal that I am. Because when the anger passes, I don’t want there to be any broken pieces that I have to pick up. I don’t want to be broken and I don’t want to break anyone else.
I would, however, occasionally like a break…but that’s another blog for another day.
Happy Thursday, people!