Most of my life has been spent on the verge of some health-related acronym. Borderline OCD or ADD or some other something something. I was never one to go through the house turning off lights repeatedly, but I had to have things "in their boxes" in order to keep that panic tucked in the mental footlocker. As for the ADD, well, let's say there are times I start folding laundry and somehow end up scrubbing the bathroom only to find when I go back through the house, the laundry is still unfolded and somehow the dishwasher is open, too. Not sure how that happens, but it's my life.
Lately there have been things that I've not executed with my usual OMG attitude. We went out of town recently and I didn't pack two weeks before. When my better half left today at what I consider "Oh, SHIT!" time to pick up the kids, I didn't say a word. I started to get worked up about it, but thought to myself, "Why?" I can't change the situation, so what's the point?
Letting a lot of the shitastic weight of life roll off my shoulders these days is what leads to the annoyance of me by me. I used to stress and worry and perfect things. I realized the other day I wasn't compulsively color-coding and alphabetizing some spreadsheets I was working on. Mind you, these habits don't help the process or make it more understandable. I just like it to be pretty:) I typed it up and sent it on. Something is amiss, I say!
So here's my list of why I get on my own nerves.
1. I promise myself I'm not going to care what others think, yet when I behave in that manner I spend the next month analyzing my every move. It's not like I acted bad...I didn't dance naked on a table or wear white before Easter. I just made random conversation or laughed. Ughh! Then I decide it's easier to stay in my cave, but then I realize that won't work either...and the cycle repeats.
2. I'm not THAT mom. Honestly, I'm tired at the end of the day. As much as I'd like to take the kids to the park to feed not-so-wild animals or expose them to some culture, there just ain't enough gas in the tank. If they want to be fed and wear clean clothes, then that will have to wait till the weekend or until a grandparent feels sorry for them. As much as I wish I could be the perky mom with nary a dilemma, they're stuck with grumpy, chaotic me.
3. I may be a tad indecisive. Or maybe a lot indecisive. I'm not sure. Big decisions make me sweat way more than a southern girl should, so I just ignore them. None of my children were planned in that "We're trying!" kinda way. That would've been too much pressure. We talk about trying to sell our house, but it scares me, so I'm waiting on my better half to make the call. My response is usually, "I don't care." It would take entirely too long for me to debate the pros and cons for each option, so we can accomplish more if you make the decision.
4. My husband says I have conversational Tourette's. I like to think it's my genius at work and only a small number of brains universally can leap this fast within such a small window of time. His simple comment on a billboard can lead me into a 30 minute commentary on a childhood memory with no obvious connection to his. In my mind, though, it makes sense. He talks about the kids needing milk, and my mind goes something like this: milk, cow, uncle's farm as a kid, sitting on fence rail, falling in cow shit, cousin's too-small shorts...So my response is, "Ya know, I always was kind of a chubby kid." And he thinks I'm an alien.
5. My mix CD's and playlists are without direction. I love them because at the moment I chose them, they were exactly what I wanted to hear. As I drove home today, though, I heard New Edition (tell me baby, can you stand the rain?) then Nine Inch Nails' Pretty Hate Machine followed up with Charlie Daniels Band. Not on different stations, but all on one CD. If this is a reflection of my personality, I'm in trouble.
I suppose that part of my learning to breathe has to be about letting "it" go. I can't worry about every little snit of a thing, because, frankly, there just aren't enough hours in my day. So I suppose I will continue to overanalyze myself, hold DCS at bay (kidding!), procrastinate about decisions, and hopscotch through conversations all the while listening to Anthrax and Suzanne Vega. As long as I'm breathing, it's all good.