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Me Last
I don’t expect to be able to put me first in my life, it’s not a mammy’s role to come first, but I really need to find ways to stop putting myself last all of the time. I am completely and utterly exhausted. I feel drained most of the time, like some of the other people in my life are vampiric and continually suck the life out of me!
This has just been a bad week. It sucks to have a bad week while on annual leave, which just makes the bad badder and the me madder (in every sense of the word). There is a core imbalance in some of my relationships, which is extremely difficult to address and in fact requires addressing by others as opposed to (or at perhaps as well as) me, but I can’t control that. Then there is a habitual imbalance, I am a giver and a helper and a supporter so I find myself constantly doing things for others at the expense of what I need to do for myself. And then there is the acceptable, essential, expected and wholly embraced imbalance of being mammy and putting my little ones’ needs above all else. There is an extension of that essential mammy imbalance though, and that is my own high expectations of myself and my desire to do what is best for them as opposed to doing what will suffice. And, I am ok with that one, however when things get really bad for me I recognise that I need to scale this back a little and that is ok. Sometimes a bit more TV time than the WHO-limit of 30 mins per day is ok. Sometimes a play about in the back garden is fine, the playground can wait until tomorrow. Take a breath.
I am trying to re-balance the scales a little, although I have not been successful to date. Maybe it’s just me and scales. But in all seriousness, I do not know how to unburden myself of some of my stresses when there is nobody there who is willing or able to burden themselves with said stresses. And on that note, I miss MY mammy. I no longer have that undying (yes I appreciate the irony) support, that unwavering dependability, that feeling of someone who is putting me first. I really miss that.
This sounds like a corny job interview answer, but I am the victim of my own ability to manage a multitude of tasks, juggle a huge number of balls and maintain a high level of momentum and progression even when to do so sometimes feels like running uphill while underwater. I have the Frozen song running through my head, “Let it goooo, let it goooo...” but I think I missed that particular life lesson and I can’t allow myself to just drop some of my balls or let things slide (self care aside, of course). This, as at least one of my readers knows, has been a long, long standing issue that goes through peaks and troughs. And thanks to said reader, I can actually recognise these signs now and take evasive actions to prevent them becoming a major issue. There are always not-quite-major issues though, adding to the stress pile and pushing my self care further away.
My physical environment has become an outward projection of some of these problems. I have so.much.stuff, it is drowning me. I can’t seem to let go of things - sentimental reasons, I have always had difficulties letting go; bulk shopping, it’s more time efficient and financially economical....although is it when some things go out of date or (and this is what prompted today’s post) when I find myself in Ikea buying new shelves because I compulsively buy an almost literal tonne of bath products and finally have to address that corner of my bedroom because it has started to get out of hand and now I have enough to open a flipping shop!
As per most kids these days, mine have too much stuff and it is everywhere! Our recent staycation was brilliant because it demonstrated how much play time they can get from a limited supply of toys. And so, the great toy cull of September is upon us. My usual modus operandi is to be gung-ho getting rid of things as far as the garage, then re-thinking the decision, becoming paralysed by indecision, or that fear of somehow needing the items at some point in the future, or feeling like they are too good to just give / throw away and so I gradually re-introduce the items after they’ve spent a couple of weeks clogging up the garage and driving me insane and adding to the misery of my cluttered existence. Ahhhh, it is all just a bit feckin much! Can I please just “Let it gooooo, let it goooo”?!
And then there is my new favourite-not-favourite concept of all time, Imaginary Lifestyle Syndrome! I have this in ABUNDANCE, just like my clutter. My biggest pitfall is with clothes, I always think I will wear things again (things that are now way too small for me). I find it hard to discard things that are not broken or completely obsolete because I seem to think it is my responsibility to see everything through. Another area this hits is kitchen stuff like fancy plates and serving dishes and all sorts of odds and ends that I used to use while living alone and soirée-ing frequently. Now though, the items are far too good and too sentimental to just give away, and I “believe” (I don’t know what that word means anymore) I will use them again in the future and so it’s into the garage they go. I splashed out on 4 large shelving units for the garage and they’re all full with this sort of stuff, and some of the bulk shopping, and now I’m in search for another storage solution for the bikes and scooters and outdoor toys (that can’t be stored / left outdoors or they’ll get wrecked / stolen).
And this post wouldn’t be complete without mention of my in-laws! They live in Scotland so they tend to buy the grandkids stuff all year and then bring it over at birthdays or Christmas. I am so grateful to them, because they provide almost all the clothes we need, plus several nice toys as well. However, sometimes their own enthusiasm gets the better of them and we end up with some larger items that are hard to manage. The biggest (literally) example of this is the fire engine. The Scot’s dad is a retired fireman so loves everything related to the fire service (he has built-in glass cabinets for his own collection of model fire engines, which is epic!) On this occasion, it was Nana who spotted the “little ride-on fire engine” on a second hand site online, maybe a Facebook group or something. She couldn’t resist, thought it was a bit of a bargain too, so bought it...and it arrived in the back of a jeep with a big, strong, able-bodied man who had to come and ask Grandad for help getting it out of the back...alarm bells anyone? The fire engine is nothing short of BRILLIANT! But, it is the size of a smart car. It.is.huge! The kids LOVE it, and I make sure that they get plenty of time playing with it...but the garage is 25% taken up with this, and it will be here for several years to come. We are managing fine and working around this, it is so worth it. But then they went and bought a go-cart and give me grief because it is still in the box. OMG, where the hell are we supposed to put that? Luckily the go cart is age 4+ so I have been able to get away with storing it for now, but it will be making its debut in March...so I need to find a space solution for this. Unfortunately, and this points to one of the imbalances I mentioned above, the Scot is useless at helping with this type of thing, he has literally never taken the fire engine out as it is too much effort and his only suggestion so far has been to store the go-cart on top of the fire engine...because, I’m fucking He Man. Deep. Breath.
So, you know, this post has made me feel better. It’s good to talk. Most of my life is very funny, I will dine out on the fire engine story until my dying day. And there is some amusement at my shuffling random stuff from room to room, eventually to garage and finally sneaking back in to start the cycle again. Of course, it’s funny-not-funny, but so long as I can continue to embrace the funny, it will help keep me away from the darkness.
Today, I am off to buy a desk (because more furniture is exactly what my house needs right now). I have just moved the baby’s cot in to his own room and taken the sides off so it’s a big boy bed, sniff. Now I just need to move him out of my bed, but frankly I have no desire to do that! And my plan is to add a desk area that is just for me, for my writing or doing their scrap books, or whatever little bit of head space I need. If I can get even just one little corner set-up that I can escape to from time to time, I think that will help keep me sane! I am back to work on Monday, and it will be insanely busy from now until Christmas so I feel under pressure to get things sorted before I move into that stage of the year. Wish me luck...
This has just been a bad week. It sucks to have a bad week while on annual leave, which just makes the bad badder and the me madder (in every sense of the word). There is a core imbalance in some of my relationships, which is extremely difficult to address and in fact requires addressing by others as opposed to (or at perhaps as well as) me, but I can’t control that. Then there is a habitual imbalance, I am a giver and a helper and a supporter so I find myself constantly doing things for others at the expense of what I need to do for myself. And then there is the acceptable, essential, expected and wholly embraced imbalance of being mammy and putting my little ones’ needs above all else. There is an extension of that essential mammy imbalance though, and that is my own high expectations of myself and my desire to do what is best for them as opposed to doing what will suffice. And, I am ok with that one, however when things get really bad for me I recognise that I need to scale this back a little and that is ok. Sometimes a bit more TV time than the WHO-limit of 30 mins per day is ok. Sometimes a play about in the back garden is fine, the playground can wait until tomorrow. Take a breath.
I am trying to re-balance the scales a little, although I have not been successful to date. Maybe it’s just me and scales. But in all seriousness, I do not know how to unburden myself of some of my stresses when there is nobody there who is willing or able to burden themselves with said stresses. And on that note, I miss MY mammy. I no longer have that undying (yes I appreciate the irony) support, that unwavering dependability, that feeling of someone who is putting me first. I really miss that.
This sounds like a corny job interview answer, but I am the victim of my own ability to manage a multitude of tasks, juggle a huge number of balls and maintain a high level of momentum and progression even when to do so sometimes feels like running uphill while underwater. I have the Frozen song running through my head, “Let it goooo, let it goooo...” but I think I missed that particular life lesson and I can’t allow myself to just drop some of my balls or let things slide (self care aside, of course). This, as at least one of my readers knows, has been a long, long standing issue that goes through peaks and troughs. And thanks to said reader, I can actually recognise these signs now and take evasive actions to prevent them becoming a major issue. There are always not-quite-major issues though, adding to the stress pile and pushing my self care further away.
My physical environment has become an outward projection of some of these problems. I have so.much.stuff, it is drowning me. I can’t seem to let go of things - sentimental reasons, I have always had difficulties letting go; bulk shopping, it’s more time efficient and financially economical....although is it when some things go out of date or (and this is what prompted today’s post) when I find myself in Ikea buying new shelves because I compulsively buy an almost literal tonne of bath products and finally have to address that corner of my bedroom because it has started to get out of hand and now I have enough to open a flipping shop!
As per most kids these days, mine have too much stuff and it is everywhere! Our recent staycation was brilliant because it demonstrated how much play time they can get from a limited supply of toys. And so, the great toy cull of September is upon us. My usual modus operandi is to be gung-ho getting rid of things as far as the garage, then re-thinking the decision, becoming paralysed by indecision, or that fear of somehow needing the items at some point in the future, or feeling like they are too good to just give / throw away and so I gradually re-introduce the items after they’ve spent a couple of weeks clogging up the garage and driving me insane and adding to the misery of my cluttered existence. Ahhhh, it is all just a bit feckin much! Can I please just “Let it gooooo, let it goooo”?!
And then there is my new favourite-not-favourite concept of all time, Imaginary Lifestyle Syndrome! I have this in ABUNDANCE, just like my clutter. My biggest pitfall is with clothes, I always think I will wear things again (things that are now way too small for me). I find it hard to discard things that are not broken or completely obsolete because I seem to think it is my responsibility to see everything through. Another area this hits is kitchen stuff like fancy plates and serving dishes and all sorts of odds and ends that I used to use while living alone and soirée-ing frequently. Now though, the items are far too good and too sentimental to just give away, and I “believe” (I don’t know what that word means anymore) I will use them again in the future and so it’s into the garage they go. I splashed out on 4 large shelving units for the garage and they’re all full with this sort of stuff, and some of the bulk shopping, and now I’m in search for another storage solution for the bikes and scooters and outdoor toys (that can’t be stored / left outdoors or they’ll get wrecked / stolen).
And this post wouldn’t be complete without mention of my in-laws! They live in Scotland so they tend to buy the grandkids stuff all year and then bring it over at birthdays or Christmas. I am so grateful to them, because they provide almost all the clothes we need, plus several nice toys as well. However, sometimes their own enthusiasm gets the better of them and we end up with some larger items that are hard to manage. The biggest (literally) example of this is the fire engine. The Scot’s dad is a retired fireman so loves everything related to the fire service (he has built-in glass cabinets for his own collection of model fire engines, which is epic!) On this occasion, it was Nana who spotted the “little ride-on fire engine” on a second hand site online, maybe a Facebook group or something. She couldn’t resist, thought it was a bit of a bargain too, so bought it...and it arrived in the back of a jeep with a big, strong, able-bodied man who had to come and ask Grandad for help getting it out of the back...alarm bells anyone? The fire engine is nothing short of BRILLIANT! But, it is the size of a smart car. It.is.huge! The kids LOVE it, and I make sure that they get plenty of time playing with it...but the garage is 25% taken up with this, and it will be here for several years to come. We are managing fine and working around this, it is so worth it. But then they went and bought a go-cart and give me grief because it is still in the box. OMG, where the hell are we supposed to put that? Luckily the go cart is age 4+ so I have been able to get away with storing it for now, but it will be making its debut in March...so I need to find a space solution for this. Unfortunately, and this points to one of the imbalances I mentioned above, the Scot is useless at helping with this type of thing, he has literally never taken the fire engine out as it is too much effort and his only suggestion so far has been to store the go-cart on top of the fire engine...because, I’m fucking He Man. Deep. Breath.
So, you know, this post has made me feel better. It’s good to talk. Most of my life is very funny, I will dine out on the fire engine story until my dying day. And there is some amusement at my shuffling random stuff from room to room, eventually to garage and finally sneaking back in to start the cycle again. Of course, it’s funny-not-funny, but so long as I can continue to embrace the funny, it will help keep me away from the darkness.
Today, I am off to buy a desk (because more furniture is exactly what my house needs right now). I have just moved the baby’s cot in to his own room and taken the sides off so it’s a big boy bed, sniff. Now I just need to move him out of my bed, but frankly I have no desire to do that! And my plan is to add a desk area that is just for me, for my writing or doing their scrap books, or whatever little bit of head space I need. If I can get even just one little corner set-up that I can escape to from time to time, I think that will help keep me sane! I am back to work on Monday, and it will be insanely busy from now until Christmas so I feel under pressure to get things sorted before I move into that stage of the year. Wish me luck...
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Funnily enough, I think if I were to move it would be a great impetus to de-clutter on a more permanent basis (it's certainly what I did when I bought my firt (and current) home and did that final removal of all my stuff from my childhood room (and attic and lots of other hidden spots in the folks' house :) ) But I totally get how the thoughts of that effort might influence the decision itself, but if ever a decision were made and a deadline imposed I'm sure you would either plough through it all....or end up with a storage unit!! (which, I have actually considered...but that was a bit of a laugh-at-self wake-up call rather than a serious consideration).