Pullllleeeze give me a little tiny break. Pulleeeze.
I'm at my wits end.
I'm under a lot of pressure. From all over. Every direction.
Yeah, I know, so is everyone. But this is a little different. And I've tried to be reasonable. Make a little bit of time for myself and the things I love, so I'll be recharged, geared up, and have the moxy to finish what I need to do. But it's been really hard. I've been pretty goddam depressed and overwhelmed for a long time. To put this into perspective, I've always been one to celebrate the tiniest joys in life, and I reflected back recently on a conversation I was having with a colleague when I said, in the midst of a few glasses of wine, "I'm so sick of hearing so much news every hour of every day that creates worry, or sadness, or destress, or panic, or God only knows what horrible feeling." I realized a couple days later that I'd really been searching for some simplistic peace of mind for awhile. This made me really focus on finding balance, and making effort to not being such a tyrant about getting things done.
But I still can't get a break. Here's the kind of shit that happens to me.... I came home today after a really nutty day at work, and I started the washer, changed, and took the dogs for a mile walk. Got them home, jumped into the car, and headed over to my parents for dinner. (My mom called me just as I left work and invited me for dinner, and I didn't have the heart to say no-thank-you because I'd already turned her down this week, and truthfully, I love going to hang out with my family. So even though it was likely a poor choice of time when I have so much to do, I figured in the long run it would be best to go.) I planned to be there from 6ish to 7:30ish, then head home to do an exercise video, clean for a good three or so hours, and then head to bed. Now the deal worked out better than anticipated. My sister had just put dinner on the table as I walked in. Perfect timing! (My sister is the most kick-ass cook EVER. She makes everything wonderful. I like to call her Martha Stewart.) After dinner she and I did some hardcore DDR for a good 30+ minutes. Then, we grabbed my parents' dogs and ran out for a mile jog. This negated my need to do the exercise video, thereby freeing up some time. So I stayed until 8 and really enjoyed my time with them. I headed out, wishing to God that people would stop asking me so many questions about the wedding when I'm busy thinking about a big meeting with a customer tomorrow at 2 pm. I got asked wedding questions by 4 people at work. Then my sister. Then my dad. Yes, I realize that they have no idea when I'm worried about big meetings with customers creeping up the following day. I don't expect anyone to be mind readers. This is why I resist the urge to scream, fall to the floor, kick everything around me, and then immediately move to Guam to escape the many sources of demand in my life right now. So I answer everyone calmly, and do sincerely appreciate that they each both care, and are curious. This makes me feel very loved. It's the overwhelmed thing that I can't handle.
Anyhow, here's the punchline. I get home, greet my dogs, and decide that since I bought myself some time, I'm going to treat myself to a hot bath. This will not only be relaxing, but it will save time in the morning. Excellent. Efficiency and progress are making me feel a teensy bit happy inside. So I take a serious breather. Pray. Unload all my huge huge huge worries, and decide that I am going to try my DAMNDEST to block stress from my head during my bath. I grab a book, run the bath, and sink into a cloud of tension-melting heat. After about 20 minutes, I can feel the heat having penetrated my bones, and my whole body relaxed. It was bliss. The book kept my mind busy.
Then, there goes the phone. I put the book down, climb part of the way out of the tub to reach it, and answer. It's my darling better half. He first acknowedges that I'm in the tub, because he can hear the "echo" sound when I speak, along with an occasional blurb of moving water. We have about 5.2 seconds of chit chat, and he informs me that his friend, whose wife is doing our flowers, called him to request that I get with the wife to order what I need. He goes on to inform me that he told his friend I'd contact the wife TOMORROW and get it all set. My blood pressure immediately goes up. I'm overcome, once again, with stress, fear, anger, frustration, and just plain feeling overwhelmed.
Forget that he KNOWS my sister and I have been stopping in to florists to work on this task. Forget that he KNOWS I'm juggling between two ideas for bouquets. Forget that I asked him to decide what he wants for boutinerres, and he's advised of no preference whatsoever. Forget that we've talked about needing to pinpoint the cake deal so we know if we want flowers on top of it. Forget that he knows full well I've been clipping pictures and working on this for days, and I've certainly not mentioned being ready. This florist needs to order the flowers 6 - 8 weeks before the wedding, and we're just past the 10 week mark. I'm not late. But now, as similar to every day, I have to take the tasks and problems already lamenting in my head and weighing down my soul to the point of serious mental and emotional crises, and somehow completely make all the decisions about the flowers, wrap up the paperwork and pictures, scan and prepare everything, and get with this woman sometime before the end of the business day. My calendar right now has 4 meetings on it, that occupy most of the day, literally. Where the hell to I pull time to do this? So I'm immediately thrown back into the mental state I had previous to all my effort to calm down and take a break from the grind enough to gather my thoughts and be productive.
Why don't I just ask him to do it? Well, seeing as I asked him two or three weeks ago to pick out a font from a list of only about 30 options, if not just narrow it down to his favorites, and he still hasn't bothered to even LOOK at them, I'm thinking it's a lost cause.
I will have to put on my super heroine cape, hose down at lest six fires tomorrow, drive home ragged and exhausted, and meet my list of crap to do over the weekend. All this after not being able to sleep tonight.
Why does he make committments on my behalf without speaking to me? Why does he think it appropriate to poke the bear when the bear is obviously trying to escape for a half hour? Why didn't he suggest that the florist wife call me OVER THE WEEKEND. She's getting paid to do this. It's what she does. Why do I have to be forced to roll myself into a funny shape and fit into her schedule? And most importantly, why doesn't he give a shit?
Because he just doesn't. That's why. He's watched me juggle everything with at least a minute amount of grace for years, and he expects me to be invincible. That, and he cares more about the florist's feelings and circumstances far more than mine. He proved that when he asked me about a month ago exactly how much work she was going to do because he was concerned it was too much for her. Nice. He's done the dishes about 12 times in the past year, and helped me clean the bedroom maybe twice, and that's pretty much it. But he's worried that the florist, who by the way doesn't work outside her home, and doesn't want her to be "stressed out." His words. Honest.
Why can't he grow a set and let his friend know that I've been dealing with a lot lately, and he happens to know I've been working on the issue. Why can't he say, wait until Sunday and I'll let you know where she's at? Because he doesn't have a protective bone in his body, possibly lacks a SPINE, and truly just doesn't care about how I feel, which he's proved a million times over.
Nope. He'd rather just unload all the pressure on me and make sure everyone else is okay.
Most women would have freaked out. I can't stoop that low. At least not very often. I'm sure occasionally I let him have it when I just can't restrain it. I stayed quiet, and basically ignored the situation. Then changed the subject. I mean really, I'm already hurt and feeling horrible. If we argue, I will only feel worse, as he NEVER is comforting when I lose my patiences, only defensive, and then he'll feel crappy too. Where's the good in that? I never even seem to feel better after "blowing off some steam." It doesn't work that way for me.
How will I fix this? Well, I won't. I will continue efforts to streamline my responsibilities, become a little more direct with what he's supposed to do to carry his own weight with shared responsibilities, and resort to turning the fucking phone OFF completely when I try to escape the wrath of life for 30 minutes. Oh, and I will rejoice like you've never seen when this wedding is overwith. Over. With.
I'm under a lot of pressure. From all over. Every direction.
Yeah, I know, so is everyone. But this is a little different. And I've tried to be reasonable. Make a little bit of time for myself and the things I love, so I'll be recharged, geared up, and have the moxy to finish what I need to do. But it's been really hard. I've been pretty goddam depressed and overwhelmed for a long time. To put this into perspective, I've always been one to celebrate the tiniest joys in life, and I reflected back recently on a conversation I was having with a colleague when I said, in the midst of a few glasses of wine, "I'm so sick of hearing so much news every hour of every day that creates worry, or sadness, or destress, or panic, or God only knows what horrible feeling." I realized a couple days later that I'd really been searching for some simplistic peace of mind for awhile. This made me really focus on finding balance, and making effort to not being such a tyrant about getting things done.
But I still can't get a break. Here's the kind of shit that happens to me.... I came home today after a really nutty day at work, and I started the washer, changed, and took the dogs for a mile walk. Got them home, jumped into the car, and headed over to my parents for dinner. (My mom called me just as I left work and invited me for dinner, and I didn't have the heart to say no-thank-you because I'd already turned her down this week, and truthfully, I love going to hang out with my family. So even though it was likely a poor choice of time when I have so much to do, I figured in the long run it would be best to go.) I planned to be there from 6ish to 7:30ish, then head home to do an exercise video, clean for a good three or so hours, and then head to bed. Now the deal worked out better than anticipated. My sister had just put dinner on the table as I walked in. Perfect timing! (My sister is the most kick-ass cook EVER. She makes everything wonderful. I like to call her Martha Stewart.) After dinner she and I did some hardcore DDR for a good 30+ minutes. Then, we grabbed my parents' dogs and ran out for a mile jog. This negated my need to do the exercise video, thereby freeing up some time. So I stayed until 8 and really enjoyed my time with them. I headed out, wishing to God that people would stop asking me so many questions about the wedding when I'm busy thinking about a big meeting with a customer tomorrow at 2 pm. I got asked wedding questions by 4 people at work. Then my sister. Then my dad. Yes, I realize that they have no idea when I'm worried about big meetings with customers creeping up the following day. I don't expect anyone to be mind readers. This is why I resist the urge to scream, fall to the floor, kick everything around me, and then immediately move to Guam to escape the many sources of demand in my life right now. So I answer everyone calmly, and do sincerely appreciate that they each both care, and are curious. This makes me feel very loved. It's the overwhelmed thing that I can't handle.
Anyhow, here's the punchline. I get home, greet my dogs, and decide that since I bought myself some time, I'm going to treat myself to a hot bath. This will not only be relaxing, but it will save time in the morning. Excellent. Efficiency and progress are making me feel a teensy bit happy inside. So I take a serious breather. Pray. Unload all my huge huge huge worries, and decide that I am going to try my DAMNDEST to block stress from my head during my bath. I grab a book, run the bath, and sink into a cloud of tension-melting heat. After about 20 minutes, I can feel the heat having penetrated my bones, and my whole body relaxed. It was bliss. The book kept my mind busy.
Then, there goes the phone. I put the book down, climb part of the way out of the tub to reach it, and answer. It's my darling better half. He first acknowedges that I'm in the tub, because he can hear the "echo" sound when I speak, along with an occasional blurb of moving water. We have about 5.2 seconds of chit chat, and he informs me that his friend, whose wife is doing our flowers, called him to request that I get with the wife to order what I need. He goes on to inform me that he told his friend I'd contact the wife TOMORROW and get it all set. My blood pressure immediately goes up. I'm overcome, once again, with stress, fear, anger, frustration, and just plain feeling overwhelmed.
Forget that he KNOWS my sister and I have been stopping in to florists to work on this task. Forget that he KNOWS I'm juggling between two ideas for bouquets. Forget that I asked him to decide what he wants for boutinerres, and he's advised of no preference whatsoever. Forget that we've talked about needing to pinpoint the cake deal so we know if we want flowers on top of it. Forget that he knows full well I've been clipping pictures and working on this for days, and I've certainly not mentioned being ready. This florist needs to order the flowers 6 - 8 weeks before the wedding, and we're just past the 10 week mark. I'm not late. But now, as similar to every day, I have to take the tasks and problems already lamenting in my head and weighing down my soul to the point of serious mental and emotional crises, and somehow completely make all the decisions about the flowers, wrap up the paperwork and pictures, scan and prepare everything, and get with this woman sometime before the end of the business day. My calendar right now has 4 meetings on it, that occupy most of the day, literally. Where the hell to I pull time to do this? So I'm immediately thrown back into the mental state I had previous to all my effort to calm down and take a break from the grind enough to gather my thoughts and be productive.
Why don't I just ask him to do it? Well, seeing as I asked him two or three weeks ago to pick out a font from a list of only about 30 options, if not just narrow it down to his favorites, and he still hasn't bothered to even LOOK at them, I'm thinking it's a lost cause.
I will have to put on my super heroine cape, hose down at lest six fires tomorrow, drive home ragged and exhausted, and meet my list of crap to do over the weekend. All this after not being able to sleep tonight.
Why does he make committments on my behalf without speaking to me? Why does he think it appropriate to poke the bear when the bear is obviously trying to escape for a half hour? Why didn't he suggest that the florist wife call me OVER THE WEEKEND. She's getting paid to do this. It's what she does. Why do I have to be forced to roll myself into a funny shape and fit into her schedule? And most importantly, why doesn't he give a shit?
Because he just doesn't. That's why. He's watched me juggle everything with at least a minute amount of grace for years, and he expects me to be invincible. That, and he cares more about the florist's feelings and circumstances far more than mine. He proved that when he asked me about a month ago exactly how much work she was going to do because he was concerned it was too much for her. Nice. He's done the dishes about 12 times in the past year, and helped me clean the bedroom maybe twice, and that's pretty much it. But he's worried that the florist, who by the way doesn't work outside her home, and doesn't want her to be "stressed out." His words. Honest.
Why can't he grow a set and let his friend know that I've been dealing with a lot lately, and he happens to know I've been working on the issue. Why can't he say, wait until Sunday and I'll let you know where she's at? Because he doesn't have a protective bone in his body, possibly lacks a SPINE, and truly just doesn't care about how I feel, which he's proved a million times over.
Nope. He'd rather just unload all the pressure on me and make sure everyone else is okay.
Most women would have freaked out. I can't stoop that low. At least not very often. I'm sure occasionally I let him have it when I just can't restrain it. I stayed quiet, and basically ignored the situation. Then changed the subject. I mean really, I'm already hurt and feeling horrible. If we argue, I will only feel worse, as he NEVER is comforting when I lose my patiences, only defensive, and then he'll feel crappy too. Where's the good in that? I never even seem to feel better after "blowing off some steam." It doesn't work that way for me.
How will I fix this? Well, I won't. I will continue efforts to streamline my responsibilities, become a little more direct with what he's supposed to do to carry his own weight with shared responsibilities, and resort to turning the fucking phone OFF completely when I try to escape the wrath of life for 30 minutes. Oh, and I will rejoice like you've never seen when this wedding is overwith. Over. With.
articulated by the bold espresso bean at 9:30 PM
1 Comments:
I say elope! A wedding honestly should not be that stressful....save the stress for other things that will happen later in life:) If you aren't going to enjoy the wedding...why have it??
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