Just today, I:
- Wore my pajamas and no bra to Lucy's preschool dropoff.
- With three-day unwashed hair in a bandanna, not even put into "hide-the-scary" little ponytails. Just barely-contained Medusa tentacles under a raggedy old bandana.
- Slumped into the soft, dangerous corner of my couch under a quilt and put on three (or was it four) DVR'ed PBS cartoons in succession for Quinn while I fell asleep, not ready to face the grey rain and the work and the sheer HARDNESS of life today.
- Finally opened a Nelnet student loan financial statement from my stack of mail, to see what they were hounding me about, since I'd let probably three months' worth of their mail come and then go straight into the "to file" stack without looking at them. CLASSIC avoidance.
- Ate two Samoas for my mandated diabetes snacktime instead of something with health value to it.
- Sorted a pile of mail that included requests for property tax to be paid, a car to be registered, and some Noah appendicitis medical bills to be settled. All from at least two months ago.
- And still didn't actually DO any of those things they are requesting of me.
- Let the kids play iPad games after Lucy's preschool pickup so I could have a silent-scream emotional breakdown about all things financial.
- Finally ordered three client books that were from sessions IN THE FALL, because once pregnancy hit at the end of December, I've been pretty dang worthless with major projects and deadlines in general.
- Felt more than a few waves of irrational, hormonal anxiety wash over me over the well-being of this 18-weeker in my tummy, letting the anxiety overtake everything else.
- Ate more jelly beans than my carb allowance permitted, because I was on hold with a billing company and stressing about it.
- Walked past at least 6 long-term piles of STUFF, multiple times, that just need to get handled for gosh' sakes, but are easier to continue to walk past.
And yes, I am coming at this from the flawed perspective of a very hormonal, more-than-slightly-irrational pregnant lady... But still. COME ON. How am I 38 and still so bad at so many things? How are people still trusting me to be an ADULT for so many things? I CANNOT GET MY SH*T TOGETHER. At all. Ever.
I am really just a mess, trying to fake my way through adulthood.
I am good at: Artistic things. People skills. Singing in harmony. Sleeping. Making sweets. I think that's probably it.
But other than that.... I am really just a big, HUGE mess.
Usually, I can take that and run with it in a positive direction--- focus on all the ways my strengths help make the world a (better? well at least a PRETTIER) place. Focus on how we are all making progress even when it doesn't feel like it. Focus on how maybe me being a mess is a good thing to share with others to help them feel less alone...
But I'm just not there today. Not in the "how can I learn from this? How can I look at it in a better light?" place. I'll get there. Or I'll have a really really excellent day soon and this haunting, yucky feeling of being SO BAD at SO MUCH will fade to just a tiny hum in the background again.
At least until the tax man comes knocking, or I get pulled over for expired plates.
Because I'm overdue for both of those.
So here, guys--- take my Adult Card. Someone come make me a sandwich and rub my back and make it so that I don't owe money anywhere and someone help me figure out how to just do fun, creative things and not have to keep the plates spinning otherwise. Help my kids only be cute and snuggly, saying only funny clever things, and help me to just be free from my own stifling expectations finally. I'll make you a cake if you can do these things for me. Cakes, I can do.
Adulting, I cannot.