Most nights, I can hardly understand why the baby is being grouchy until I look at the clock to realize that it’s already going on about 10 pm.
Holy crap, where did the day go?
I have never been all that great about time management- I can admit that fully. I’ve never really blown a writing deadline or anything like that, but I have often spent the day before the deadline editing my brains out, revising, and getting no sleep.
The same is true of college courses. I’d get my papers and everything in on time, but I’m a last-minute champion. I don’t know how it works, but I always mutter, swear and yell, “I’m never doing this again! I will always get to work and pace myself!”
Then, I find myself doing it again. I’ll sit down and try to do things in a less panic-driven fashion, and for some reason the work is not as good, the slow doesn’t do it for me.
(Oh yes, if it didn’t occur to you: nursing a baby about kills me. Lay down? Sit down? Particularly during growth spurts, this was hard. Nursing the baby to nap or bed is one of the most excruciatingly long stretches of time no matter how I try to “savor this moment” and all that. The perpetual to-do list in my head says, “GET UP GET UP GET UP YOU FORGOT YOU NEED GET UP.” Plus, well, much of the work that I do now goes much more smoothly without wearing the baby- oh, I can do it all right, it’s just easier and faster when he’s asleep.)
I’m not joking or being glib when I say this, but there are times when I realize that if my stomach were a little less torn up, I could develop a drinking problem. Drinking slows me down and kind of pulls the stick from my butt. (It also never fails to make me throw up, when done in excess- and I hate throwing up, so I very rarely drink more than one or two here and there. Negative reinforcement works very, very well for me.) So does severe depression, but I like to avoid that one, too. Meditation and prayer in the mornings truly keeps me sane, but I’ve contemplating adding a session to my night time routine, too. Once upon a time, in a more accepting of any and every solution that might be thrown at me there was a bi-polar diagnosis, amid the on two hands list of random diagnostic dart throwing they put me through. If that one’s true, and I doubt very much that it is: I go years in a manic state, followed by several months to a year in a depressive state. Thing is, that depressive state always has a cause. I’ve never been like, “Oh I just don’t know why I am so down!” Because I always have. I spend a few months in this sort of grousy-whiny-moper state, get pissed at myself, and rrrrnnnnnnnn rnnnnnn rnnnn! POW! Up and running again. People who do not take the time to get to know me, or engage me in discussions wherein I actually have something to say are often profoundly shocked once they do. Descriptions of me are either, “Oh, I don’t know, she seemed so awkward and shy.” or “Are you KIDDING ME?! Did we meet the same person?!” I just don’t enjoy talking about nothing, is all, but that doesn’t mean I’m not bouncing hell for leather in my brain while you do.
I try to avoid labels, but I am not very good at it. To me, a label is…identifying a problem. Once you identify, you can then go on to solve.
I was my problem and everyone else’s for so long now, it’s hard to back away from that. Anyrate- my personality, or whatever the hell it is, makes it very, very hard for me to take on one project at a time.
Mostly, though, what happens is, I end up with a bunch of half finished projects because I also tend to become utterly fixated on one of them. After I had Thomas, anyone who was around me can tell you: my newborn was my fixation. That’s pretty normal, I reckon, but no matter how I may trust someone, otherwise, trusting anyone, partner included to care for my newborn becomes a completely foreign concept. People often describe watching me in those first three to four months as “exhausting”. I do this with dogs, too. When I first took in Budditz, he was awful. I mean, a really reprehensible dog. I hate calling dogs “bad dog” because I don’t think they are, I think the humans that associate with them are. So, after I took him in, and he was screaming whining, ripping to shreds anything he could get his mouth on- I worked with him. Now, most people who meet him are like, “Wow, that dog is AMAZING.” and, it makes me proud. More than that, though, it proves my point: there are no bad dogs. But, I fixated on him until he got to that point.
Being ultra-hyper and prone to fixating= not good when you’ve got a bunch of things going at once.
Being ultra-hyper and prone to fixating with a partner who works nights = holy crap, there is NO TIME FOR ANYTHING.
Kurt would rather be outside working on the various projects around here. He and I both have that in common. I knew a long time ago, that just because I was good at what I did in front of the computer- that didn’t mean I wanted to be there. Last year, before the drought of doom and pregnancy juxtaposed to turn me into an underground dwelling hermit who couldn’t stand any heat whatsoever? We would be out in the yard, clearing brush and doing things- happiest times in our relationship, to me. We pair up very well like that. So, I started looking into all the different income streams one can do- some things I can set into motion to replace his income.
Add studying blog and youtube monetization to the list, dear friends. In addition to duck and chicken husbandry, soil management, wild plant identification, gardening, canning, and the plethora of other things I’m trying to learn and put into practice.
No wonder at night, when I lay down I don’t want to fall asleep but do so in spite of myself. Usually, going, “Ah, crap, I forgot….!”
And one day, I will get it through my thick skull that it isn’t always that simple.