I was managing so well and so cheerfully earlier today that my therapist remarked I seemed stronger or something like that. Did she really say stronger as a positive? Am I just remembering that wrong? Would she have said that to me, given our previous conversations about that very thing? Hmm. Now I'm wondering. Anyhow, less than four hours later I was paralyzed on my bed, overwhelmed by all the details in my life that need attention. I can't even go pee without thinking of or seeing something else that needs my attention, like a dirty bathroom or a reminder that my girlfriends told me I should buy a keegle exerciser if I'm worried about the state of my kutabachi after three babies. Add that to the list, far far down below all the other more pressing responsibilities like laundry, putting the garbage out on the curb, answering pressing emails, getting my house ready to put on the market, figuring out a child support budget for mediation, reading another parenting book that I held out as a carrot on a stick to the STBEX who wants more parenting time, WORK, planning the entire summer camp that I'm months behind schedule on and is in just THREE WEEKS, and on and on and on and on. I've had so many big thoughts that I've wanted to out down here on my log, but I can't even find the time for the intrapersonal work that I long to do. Then I realized, thanks to my sis, that this stupid private, personal blog has even become a emotional to-do list item. As if it has an audience! Ha. The only ones reading this blog tucked away in the lost and forgotten box in the collective human attic that is the Internet are some spam fishing web engines who want to find ways of infecting other people from Russia or Brazil. This is for me! No one is reading this! IT DOESN'T MATTER IF I KEEP IT UPDATED WITH MY PROGRESS OR RECORD ALL MY THOUGHTS IN A BALANCED WAY OR GET IT ALL OUT OR LIVE UP TO THE NAME "grateful butterfly" or anything else. It's a fucking tool, JUST FOR ME, unedited, unplanned, complete only in its utter incompleteness. I can't begin to put this whole experience into words. There aren't enough hours in the day even if I wasn't mom to three demanding boys, in charge of a school and a summer camp and trying to manage a 3,400 sq foot house that I will soon need to make presentable for market. As my sister helped remind me, I'm simply NOT going to get even most of it done. I need to accept that I'm going to fail at some of it right now and for awhile to come.
Ok. So with that, I've now gotten eight things done on my to-do list of hundreds this evening and so by order of my sister, I'm now going to say fuck it to the rest of my responsibilities, eat some ice cream and watch another episode of Downton Abbey.