Retraining the mind....

Last night my husband went to Target after the kids were in bed. I say this because it's rare. Rare for one of us to leave the house without the other at night. Unless its a meeting or a specifically planned social outing we just don't generally go out. Its the age of the kids and the division of labor post-bed.

If hes late getting back, in my mind the Lifetime movie runs. The one where there's a freak accident. A heart attack. A gunman. I have to live my life alone, raising three kids. As I sorted through the laundry, bending and stooping to clear toys, I tried to figure out our finances. How long could I live here? Would I stay in this house, or another? When could i produce income? Who will I call when the police come to the door? Would be husbands last day be a good one?

As I swept up the popcorn from under the table, I had...not an epiphany...but a realization. An epiphany would have been illuminating and felt enlightening. What I felt was a bit darker. "Ive been a shitty wife". Not truly, but yes, Im not much fun. If you are in the market for a gay, carefree, bon vivant with hobbies and friends and a million cool apps running road races and wine drinking and cheerfully cuddling with you on the couch, you've picked the wrong woman.

I'm awful. An anxious bundle of articulated tics and ideas.Up in my head, out of my mind, I stress as to whether the towels are folded seams out (prettier when you open the cabinet), if the toys are sorted by genre, if the clothes are all clean at once. I can't function well unless everything is compartmentalized and because of it, I spend hours constantly sorting. it's endless. And really, never ending.

I like to think Im lightening up. Going to bed earlier, trying to read vs clean. Trying to connect vs manage. But it stays with me. Taunting me. Breathing down my neck. It is right now. The playroom is writhing in pain because toys are littering the floor. It's Awful.

So there I am, sweeping, organizing, folding, sorting, thinking, and the husband comes home.
phew.
Safe.

I think I need to stop and live differently but I don;t know how.
So I do what I do because in the absence of knowing what else to do, this still works. Well, it doesn't "work" but the result is generally that we have a blank slate to do what we need to do next because Ive already done the business of being organized.

This wasn't the post I started when I sat down.
The post I started was about how I posted pictures to facebook last night of my abysmal cake making then across posted about 5 pictures of cakes and desserts 3 of my friends made that I thought were inspired and gorgeous.

My one friend chirped that she wasn't as good as the other two. Which is stupid because she IS as good, she gets it done in a short amount of time, her stuff is creative and well executed and adorable. But I joked instead it's because she was swilling wine. As I typed the joke I thought "Too far" but then I thought of how at least once a week she makes a booze joke and I figured it would be well received. Yeh. It wasn't. She fired back something like "Enough with the derogatory remarks, I'm sick of them." And that was it.
So I sent her an apology, killed the post (not just the comment) and went to bed. Dreaming bad dreams about upsetting her. Only to find this morning that she is mad, feels I took a potshot at her, posted something for all to see, and in general "Went to far". Point taken. And Im sorry. I generally don't fuck up that way but I did.

And this morning my day is ruined. lll walk around feeling hot, nervous, fragile, upset, and distracted. Im short of breath. Feel weepy. Saddened. I already do.

So I walked upstairs and sat and typed this, ignoring all the other noises in my head that say 'Clean. Make breakfast. Whatever" I also feel a tiny seed of something else. A feeling that is different for me.

I feel like saying this. "Ive loved you for a long time. Long enough to stick around when you have had no time for me. Long enough to wait and see when the phone stopped ringing if it was because of me, or because you were busy. Ive never judged you, thought less of you, lied to you or about you. Ive waited for months  jealously to reconnect with you when I see you surrounded by new friends, new activities, new projects. I've tried to talk less, talk differently, or simply not bug you - because Ive tried to guess internally which of my behaviors has turned you away from me hoping valiantly to change so you'll turn back to me. I miss my friend. I may have taken more then Ive given. I may be a narcissistic mess. I may be a lot of things but I'm not spiteful. Im sorry. Yes I am. Sorry I made a joke that wasn't a joke. But to be fair, let me say this which I haven't said. At around 5, or 7, or 10 at least 3 posts out of 10, you are talking about booze. Wine. Having a drink. Mommy time. Whatever. And I know you don't have a problem. But maybe you  think people think you do. Because if someone posted that on my board, I'd laugh. Because I don't drink enough at any time to take it seriously. I made a joke that I thought lined up with YOUR jokes. It doesn't erase what I did, it doesn't mean you have to accept my apology. I said I'm sorry though and I mean it. Deeply.

The little seed of a feeling I have though is anger. I'm angry that you think I'd take a potshot at you. Did I suddenly change? Have I become someone snide? Snippy? Passive aggressive?  Did I turn a corner and become the judge and jury of others lives? Anyone who has ever known me knows my fatal fucking flaw. Its driven me my whole life. "If somethings wrong, it must be my fault"


So heads up for myself.   If my husband dies in a fiery car crash in the rain today, I will regret not living our current life better. I'll regret wasting time on this post, but most of all, I'll regret how deeply sad I am over something that may not be entirely my fault.