Part of moving forward is letting go of the past right? Part of being happy is not comparing to what was, but just being in what is. Now. Right?

So as if depression were a twelve step program, allow me to purge some of the past and the garbage I am holding onto. Make record, file it away, and finally start the new chapter.

I hate the clock. I never really had to manage the clock before, and now it runs my life. Ruins my life. I mean, sure, I needed to know when to wake up on a work day. I kept track of when I got to leave the office or if I had rehearsal or whatever, but nothing else really mattered. I could stay up if I wanted, go to sleep if I wanted. I could eat before rehearsal or grab a thing on the way to the theatre or just wait and eat something after. And it could be garbage I was eating – most likely leftover pizza or McDonalds but whatever. Didn’t matter. I knew that no matter what time I went to sleep, I was in charge of when I woke up. But now, Hannah is in charge of everything. And she changes the rules constantly. There is no damn pattern anymore. What happened to predictability? All that “establish a routine” BS is just destroying hope. She does what she wants, when she wants, and she doesn’t know how to read the clock. So do we? Do we read her behaviors and put her down when she’s crabby which varies from 11am – 4pm and jack up a routine? Or do we stick to the routine and put her down as close to 2 as we want? And does it matter if we take her for a bath at 7:30 if she won’t stay in her crib til after 11 anyway? The clock is stupid. And feels SO necessary. And so useless. And I can’t feel free in my own schedule because I never know what she is going to do. Or what HE is going to do. When to schedule a car inspection. When to have dinner and do I make her eat with me? Pick at my plate and ruin her own appetite? Try to have family dinners when we all eat at different times? When do I get to sleep in? When can I mow the lawn?  Do I take her to the park now? Or is it too close to dinner? or bath? or nap? Is she even gonna nap?

Negotiating. I have always been crap at negotiating. I give in too easily. Give up too quickly. I would be a terrible salesman. And in my previous life it came up like once every few years. Buying a house…but in those situations there was a coach and I didn’t have to look at the people I was negotiating with. Buying a car, but again that was like once every 5 years ish. But every minute of every day with a child is a negotiation. There are times when the solution is obvious and harmonious. I’ve got energy and time and nothing but sunshine on my shoulder so absolutely I will take her to the park and let him have some time alone in the house. Other times, it’s not so easy. I wanted to go to that show. Or I had a terrible day at work and just want to curl up under covers on the couch and watch Star Wars or LOtR or Harry Potter (someone want to suggest some other sci-fi fantasy epic trilogy +?) but he’s tired too and she’s being a nightmare and I kinda want to be allowed to sleep through the night if she wakes up and he’d kinda like to go to that thing tomorrow night and I’d kinda like to do that thing next weekend and tomorrow I’m gonna need to rake the yard but he’s gonna want to work on sound and and and and and it just goes on and on. And on. And I give in. Almost every time. There is a point in the future (that is always in the future…like tomorrow…tomorrow is always later, never today) that I hold onto. A majestic day when I will be able to cash in all my chips and revel in the glory of being spoiled, pampered, and completely guilt free in my adult indulgence. But that day is not coming. And I am dieing in the meantime.

Comparability. Or lack thereof. I’m pretty bad about comparing myself to others. It’s part of what makes me excel at my work life and suffer in my personal life. It’s why I don’t have FaceBook. It’s why I limit who I follow on Instagram. I am a jealous person. I have had to admit that to myself a lot lately. I want to be great at arts and crafts and be a magnificent mom and an awesome project manager and a thin tan lifeguard and the perfect lover and beyond financially comfortable and a stunning Hollywood actress world traveler with a perfectly well behaved daughter with delightful well cared for perfect little siblings who all get into just enough trouble to be cute and perfect and endearing. Every thing that everyone else has I want. Funky bo ho house, cabin in the woods, elegant 4 story castle, tiny house built into a truck, downtown apartment, country farm, uptown mansion. I want to live on the beach in the mountains in the middle of the woods on a desert next to a river in my houseboat directly in the heart of downtown where we can walk to everything once we get through our epic football field sized yard. In Europe or South America or the amazing grasslands of these here United States. Nothing I have is enviable. I have become boring. Day in, day out, same old boring work, bathtime, bed rinse and repeat. No one is desirous of my life.

I guess that’s probably enough white girl problems for now. Thanks. That was a lot of rambling and run-on nonsensical sentences. That feels just the littlest bit better.


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