This is a rant. Or a scream for lack of sanity. Or a sigh of resignation.
Tonight I was supposed to be at two places at once. Just a bit earlier I sent the final draft of a proposal that I spent the entirety of this last weekend working on. And there’s a conference call at crack of dawn-thirty (7:30) in the morning to confer about said proposal. The kiddos will not be going to school, so guess who gets to participate in this conference call with me? Yep, Won’t that be fun? And professional? *sigh*
I’m annoyed at my life right about now, but there’s no one to blame but me. No one else accepted any of this. Just me. Yeah, very annoyed—angry even—at myself. See, that is NOT what this freelance, consulting gig was supposed to be about!
As I type, and think, I get more frustrated about what I’ve let happen. I’m an admitted workaholic, as I continue to prove to myself and family and some friends who know this about me. And now I think that I purposefully let this get in the way of allowing me to do what I (thought I) wanted to try and do: be more mom, less professional. I think I might be kind of afraid of being “just a mom.” Ha. That’s crazy.
No, what is crazy is that my goals of late have all been missed. Except for work deadlines, everything else–yes, everything else–has fallen to the wayside. My volunteer duties. My family. My mental health. My relationships with others.
Not all relationships. I’ve helped foster the relations of the dust bunnies. Yes, they have enjoyed—are enjoying—this time of my household neglect. While I’ve shirked my relationships, they have cultivated theirs. Looks like a reunion happening under the desk right now. Maybe there’s a lesson there. Or maybe not.