It seems my to-do list has to-do lists. Every room in the house is need of a deep cleaning. I would be mortified if someone came over. The fridge is empty, and I have to make dinner tonight. Honestly, I feel overwhelmed and depressed over it. Which is silly but so looming. I really have about 8 hours to get my whole life together and a 8 hour drive/& back to Illinois.
Working swing swift doesn’t bother my personally or even people externally but my house gets the ass end of the deal. I can’t find balance. More so than anything I can’t find motivation. What do I do about it? Whine and write. Sit in bed, binging awful netflix shows…. drinking copious amounts of coffee.
#momlife #works65ormorehourslife #stillgottaworkwhenigethomelife
I was feeling super down. But I remembered the words from my favorite podcast host Theo Von “When I get in that state of mind I just move my feet one in front of another. I just keep them moving and usually my brain starts moving too.”
That is what I am going to do. Start with the 3 rooms I hate cleaning the most the 2 bathrooms, and the kitchen. Then wash linens. And cook dinner from whatever I have in the fridge even if it’s chili dogs and mac & cheese.
Most importantly such is life no sense in being upset about it.
Things I accept about myself:
- being the hot mess express mom in the car pool lane
- owning far too many beauty products
- coffee addicted
- nap enthusiast
- pinterest stalker, not a creator!
- waiting last minute to clean my house
- a person who has a sock basket, but doesn’t match socks
- listening to music too loud
- buying groceries and then picking up a pizza
- sh!t talker, cussing
- nonstop list maker
- laughing when uncomfortable!
- short tempered and big hearted
I have to remember that. Allow my self to actually believe it.
Remember who you are.
I found my childhood journals online. Ages 14 to 20ish. Made me equally happy and sad.
Sad I’ve searched for love and stability my whole life. Love in a man. To feel that love. People who’ve come and gone. And it’s really hard to read moments where if I actually did something different it might have turned out all different. But that’s life man.
What made me the most sad was that I use to just write. It was documentation, therapy, and creations of my thoughts. Pure. And I can go back and read them over and over.
What made me happy besides finding the gems… was how fucking strong I am. Since the beginning IF I WANT IT BAD ENOUGH I MAKE IT HAPPEN. I’ve always known to depend on myself solely. Life never happened to me, I made it happen. That is awesome. That encouraged me.
There were little tidbits that I realize I’m not girly enough. And I have always desired to be more so. I have always envied that about other women. Maybe I can work on that too.
I just need a brain outlet. Some where to purge my thoughts honestly. I have 2 more nights working over twelve hours each. 3rd shift is lonely. And I am fighting to get to Monday without a relapse in depression. Since March I’ve been lost.
I think I found a rope, just got to climb my way back up.