I've been stuck in a laziness rut for nearly two years now.
I don't sew anymore
I don't blog unless my guilt gets the better of me, then I begrudge the process because I'm so behind
I don't scrapbook anymore
I don't plan parties and I dread holidays
I don't garden...winter seems so long
I don't bake like I used to
I am beginning to feel the nudge to create again. I'm not sure what but I think it would bring me purpose and a sense of satisfaction.
Women around me have started selling baked goods. That seems tempting but I also hate the money part. Others sew and sell their creations. Again, the money. I don't want to charge for my hobbies.
Sewing is such a past art. I don't even know what I would sew. Blankets are a big undertaking and I have two that are unfinished and need to be quilted - again a big undertaking.
Scrapbooking has so many possible forms (paper, digital, blog) and I'm not sure what I want to do moving forward though preserving pictures is important to me.
Blogging is easy when I get in the groove but I'm still behind and the process of transferring from blog to paper is a big time commitment for underwhelming results in the printed pictures.
Garden. It will come, but no matter how much I will the snow to go away, gardening is still months away.
Baking just leads to eating things that ruin my health and weight goals. I have no snitching control when in the kitchen.
Surprisingly, scrapbooking stands out to me as the most pleasant and possible thing to create right now. I just need to figure out what that will look like.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
The Dad Epiphany
I was listening to a book today and came across a thought that rumbled into truth and I'm surprised but not. My hope is that I'll be able to box up and let go of this thought pattern and create a healthy one, but first let me explain.
Every afternoon brings anxiety for me. Around 4:00 I start to snack like crazy. I don't even realize I'm eating and pacing and fidgeting. Over the last couple of years I have tried to just make myself change, but I haven't understood where it's coming from. Two sources came up.
1) Getting home from school.
When I was school age, getting home from school didn't mean a break or necessarily homework. It meant folding clothes, helping get dinner ready or watching kids. It was not free time, it was expectation time. I needed to do what I was told and not question it. Homework was done later after younger siblings went to bed.
Now, when the getting-home-from-school time arrives, I go into high gear and I'm trying to force my kids into it. I have a mental list of what they must get done and I want it done now. Piano, homework, chores because I don't want to raise lazy kids, and the list goes on. I realize at this moment that I am not a very good after school mom. There aren't cuddles and questions of their day. I don't meet them at the door with a snack. I don't let them take a minute to decompress from their day. I have expectations that are leftovers of my own childhood.
2) Dad's coming home.
Whether or not the after-school expectations were met, I always remember mom saying to someone, or no one in general, "dad will be home soon". That was code for, "get your crap done" or "quit your sass" or "just wait, you'll shape up now". At least that's how it sounded in my head because when dad got home it was rarely pleasant. At least with mom's expectations, I could understand. Clothes needed folded, kids needed watched, food needed prepared. Dad's expectations were so vague that it just always caused me anxiety. He wanted us busy but didn't tell us necessarily what. If I was to have a room clean, it wasn't good enough. If I was practicing the piano, every mistake was criticized. If a younger sibling was acting up or in trouble, it was someone partially my fault as well. If mom wasn't happy, we were all in trouble.
Just writing it out brings back the smell of the house, the green walls and floor, the smell of the wood stove, and the mixed stress emanating from all of us - adults and children alike. I feel a strong sense that I need to hide.
This has been a lingering anxiety for most of my marriage even though LeRoy rarely comes home in any mood other than cheerful and tired. He has never criticized my housekeeping or meals. He doesn't place expectations on me as far as work or kids or house. He seldom yells.
So why am I so anxious when LeRoy gets home? I think the cell phone has played into this over the last few years. When I was a child, the last thing I wanted was to be seen by my dad. It always meant another chore (laziness is of the devil), or criticism, or just an uncomfortable feeling because we didn't know how to be anything other than over-bearing parent and submissive child. Now, I want to be seen. I want credit for the housework and office work that I've done. I want credit that the kids have homework done. I want the meal I've spent time making to be shared over happy conversations. Instead he walks in the door on his phone and I'm completely unnoticed, as is everything that I've accomplished throughout the day. If he does acknowledge me, it's to give another work assignment or bid request. I want to be seen. Not assigned. We seldom eat together and many nights he has already stopped somewhere to grab a quick dinner because it's late or he had a late lunch so the meal is automatically leftovers and I've already dealt with the boys complaints of my efforts instead of gratitude.
I don't give LeRoy enough credit in this but I do think our end of day schedule needs some loving work.
I want to let go of this childhood trauma.
I want to give my kids attention instead of only jobs.
I want to enjoy the time when my husband gets home.
It will take time but acknowledging the similarities and possible causes for the behavior and anxiety already has been feeling better and ready to change.
Every afternoon brings anxiety for me. Around 4:00 I start to snack like crazy. I don't even realize I'm eating and pacing and fidgeting. Over the last couple of years I have tried to just make myself change, but I haven't understood where it's coming from. Two sources came up.
1) Getting home from school.
When I was school age, getting home from school didn't mean a break or necessarily homework. It meant folding clothes, helping get dinner ready or watching kids. It was not free time, it was expectation time. I needed to do what I was told and not question it. Homework was done later after younger siblings went to bed.
Now, when the getting-home-from-school time arrives, I go into high gear and I'm trying to force my kids into it. I have a mental list of what they must get done and I want it done now. Piano, homework, chores because I don't want to raise lazy kids, and the list goes on. I realize at this moment that I am not a very good after school mom. There aren't cuddles and questions of their day. I don't meet them at the door with a snack. I don't let them take a minute to decompress from their day. I have expectations that are leftovers of my own childhood.
2) Dad's coming home.
Whether or not the after-school expectations were met, I always remember mom saying to someone, or no one in general, "dad will be home soon". That was code for, "get your crap done" or "quit your sass" or "just wait, you'll shape up now". At least that's how it sounded in my head because when dad got home it was rarely pleasant. At least with mom's expectations, I could understand. Clothes needed folded, kids needed watched, food needed prepared. Dad's expectations were so vague that it just always caused me anxiety. He wanted us busy but didn't tell us necessarily what. If I was to have a room clean, it wasn't good enough. If I was practicing the piano, every mistake was criticized. If a younger sibling was acting up or in trouble, it was someone partially my fault as well. If mom wasn't happy, we were all in trouble.
Just writing it out brings back the smell of the house, the green walls and floor, the smell of the wood stove, and the mixed stress emanating from all of us - adults and children alike. I feel a strong sense that I need to hide.
This has been a lingering anxiety for most of my marriage even though LeRoy rarely comes home in any mood other than cheerful and tired. He has never criticized my housekeeping or meals. He doesn't place expectations on me as far as work or kids or house. He seldom yells.
So why am I so anxious when LeRoy gets home? I think the cell phone has played into this over the last few years. When I was a child, the last thing I wanted was to be seen by my dad. It always meant another chore (laziness is of the devil), or criticism, or just an uncomfortable feeling because we didn't know how to be anything other than over-bearing parent and submissive child. Now, I want to be seen. I want credit for the housework and office work that I've done. I want credit that the kids have homework done. I want the meal I've spent time making to be shared over happy conversations. Instead he walks in the door on his phone and I'm completely unnoticed, as is everything that I've accomplished throughout the day. If he does acknowledge me, it's to give another work assignment or bid request. I want to be seen. Not assigned. We seldom eat together and many nights he has already stopped somewhere to grab a quick dinner because it's late or he had a late lunch so the meal is automatically leftovers and I've already dealt with the boys complaints of my efforts instead of gratitude.
I don't give LeRoy enough credit in this but I do think our end of day schedule needs some loving work.
I want to let go of this childhood trauma.
I want to give my kids attention instead of only jobs.
I want to enjoy the time when my husband gets home.
It will take time but acknowledging the similarities and possible causes for the behavior and anxiety already has been feeling better and ready to change.
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