I have adulting fatigue today. And yesterday. And most of these school holidays to be honest. Perhaps that’s why I’ve not written a word for 2 weeks. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. I already know that writing every day is a ‘protective factor’ for me against anxiety, depression and overwhelm. So is daily exercise. Haven’t done as much of that lately either. I’ve just been getting by. Nothing is actually wrong, but I’m just off. Off balance, not feeling grounded, feeling unsettled. I feel more fatigued than I think I should and my back is a mess. I bent over at work the other day to grab some supplies from the baby weigh trolley. I was leaning down for maybe 30 seconds. As I went to straighten up my lower back went into spasm, taking my breath away. I inhaled sharply, inching slowly, painfully back to upright, willing my back to calm down. Thankfully it did, and I was able to continue my shift. Part of me suspects it’s a matter of time before I won’t be able to.
Perhaps I should actually do the exercises prescribed by the physio.
Why don’t we do the things we know support us? Why do we neglect and sabotage ourselves in this way?
This is not a rhetorical question. I would love someone to enlighten me with their wisdom, because I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of analysing. I’m tired of thinking ahead and strategising and contingency planning. I’m tired of being a grown up. I am really tired of being cautious, in seemingly every area of our lives. After much discussion and quite a few tears, we’ve finally let the idea of a third child go. So many good reasons not to try for a third. I’m okay with it. Sad, but okay. We are too cautious to risk what we have. Now the girls and Chab have started talking about getting a dog. I’ve always been a cat person, ending up with 3 under my care at age 23. My last cat passed on over a year ago, and while I miss having pets I don’t miss the shedding and I don’t miss the expense. But I too, quite like the idea of getting a fur baby. But I’m so cautious. And it’s so boring.
I envy my children’s naïveté when they assure me getting a dog is a great idea, and that no they won’t ever get tired of it, they will happily pick up its poo. “Is it the money mama?” Phemie asks me. “Because I’m sure there are things we can sell, and anyway it will be worth it!” Damn girl, of course money is part of it. Saving takes time on moderate salaries and there are other additional expenses on my mind too. For instance. While the girls are young I really want to invest in a pool, but that dream seems to be drifting further and further away. I start Hypnobirthing Practitioner training in a month, which is a significant financial investment as well, not to mention costs involved with starting up one’s own business. I want my husband to branch out of his comfort zone and invest in his professional future, which will also necessitate a pay cut for a period of time. But the girls can’t think past the initial outlay for a dog, unable to grasp the ongoing costs of feeding, grooming, training, vaccinations, vet insurance, what insurance doesn’t pay when it hits the fan, etc etc. And what do we do if we have the opportunity to go to France for an extended period like we had planned before Covid messed up everyone’s mojo? Family or friends may be happy to take our dog during that time but we can’t be sure and have to be prepared to rehome or pay for someone to care for our pet. Not to mention the investment of time. Precious, irreplaceable time.
I have no answers today. I went to bed overwhelmed and frustrated and woke up the same way. But I went for a run. I opened up my laptop and wrote something. Now, I’m going to crawl back into bed and pray for a few more minutes of rest before the girls get up.
Things are already looking up. Thanks for being here ❤