I slept for 10+ hours last night. Oh so good, but now the guilt spiders are sharpening their tiny legs and getting ready to swarm.
I said a bit of a fuckit to house work and anything other than getting out and about yesterday. And that seemed a reasonable course to take for once in a while. But the downside is today I’ve started late and all I can see is unending clutter and boring housework that’s slowly shifting towards the “urgent” category (or even just G. ends up doing a big chunk of it, which summons the guilt spiders because he’s working and I’m not working right now. Anyway.) and I’m feeling conscious of lots of bending and frankly I just never really want to do it anyway.
I’m feeling the need for a bit of a plan for the day, or else I will get paralysed from the guilt-spider’s poison and all wrapped up in their webs and pretty incapable of doing much of anything.
But you know, first I’m going to sketch out a Not Funny, Just True contender for the guilt spiders because their image has been dancing around in my head a lot and I haven’t taken the time to get them down on paper just yet.
The prospect of doing that actually fills me with the same future-joy that the prospect of drinking used to do. Now drinking never actually delivered on that promise, but drawing can, does even.
You know, I nearly was tempted to drink wine last night through lack of concentration! We were out to dinner with some friends after a long walk around FOTA. Dinner starting had crept later and later. The children were tired and hungry, I was tired and hungry, people were drinking wine and I wasn’t really thinking much about it. And then there was this two second moment where I nearly grabbed G’s glass of red wine to sit back and drink some. It wasn’t that I wanted it – it was just a call back to old old habits and muscle and reaction memory. Maybe some of it was even performance memory – I’d come in from a tiring but actually not all that stressful interaction with the group of five small children out in the playground nearby, and my back was sore and I was tired, and the group was watching, and it seemed nearly expected to flop into a seat and grab onto an alcoholic drink of some kind.
Anyway, it was just interesting to note. The impulse was gone nearly as quickly as it arose, but it’s notable that long after the expected triggers have passed into history, there will be unexpected ones to challenge me for who knows how long to come.
So, every day is a bit like Sunday for me at the moment. No, not in that grey and depressed Morrissey sense (although, yeah, sometimes there’s been a bit of that going on too). It’s more that I’m lazing through the mornings and letting the days drift past a little more than I really want to. It’s a little down to me experimenting with less productivity and less self-driving – certainly less self-whipping – but yeah, I think maybe it’s gone a little too far. I don’t think it’s even about more, I think it’s got to do with getting better at identifying what’s important to me.
I would so quickly write off house-work and say that it’s not important to me at all, but actually, that’s a lie. My environment is really really important to me. It actually has a huge effect on my mood, and for all that I might claim that I will never have wished to do more hoovering when I’m on my deathbed, it’s pretty likely that I will wish to have had hoovering done – in some capacity at least. My days are dragged down from being surrounded by clutter and mess, and sure, the slight majority of that might be down to having 4 year old boys around the place for 24-hour stints, but stepping aside from excuses for the moment …
Problem: My environment is negatively impacting my mood and quality of life.
Solution: Unknown. Because also, spending too much of my precious time on housework negatively impacts my mood and quality of life.
I need to figure out where that balance is, where I do just enough to make me more happy without making me less happy.
So, I know this might be the very definition of first-world problems here, and I’m a little embarrassed to have spent so long turning it over in my mind and in words on this virtual screen, but truthfully it’s an everyday boring thing that is slowly eroding joy from my being so … judge if you want! You won’t be alone.
I’m off to draw about guilt and then let guilt drive me to hoover.