I’m a fairly contradictory person so it only makes sense that my moods follow suit. In the span of 24hrs, I can go from being an incredibly sociable charmer to an awful, miserable shut-in. I’ve always been terrible at being alone and yet a craver of alone time. It doesn’t make any sense, it’s a pain in the ass, and I swear I’m not trying to be difficult.
My house is generally a disaster area and that fault is my own. Spending time alone in an empty house to finish chores is so not my idea of a good time. In fact, it usually turns me into a bitchy ball of anxiety. I would rather walk to the mall, browse some stores, judge some people, purchase approximately three different iced/caffeinated beverages, maybe buy a nail polish, judge some more people, take the long way around, sit at the park while the baby naps, judge even more people and then meander home after maybe just one more iced coffee. And that to me is a good day.
I don’t know when I became so terrible at being in a house alone. Maybe it started pre-kids when I would stay up all night chatting to friends on the Internet and then end up at McDonald’s for 5am breakfast “just because why not”. Maybe it stems from never really having lived alone since I’ve always had room mates or, now, children. Perhaps I’m just a needy little attention-seeker. But whatever the reason, it’s a damn real struggle.
Then on the flip side we have those nights where I would sell my entire family so that I could just get some freaking writing done and listen to my own thoughts for 60 minutes. Much like tonight where I am happy to hide out in the bathtub with a beer, a book, and my wireless iPad keyboard and y’all are blessed with this pointless (self-involved) rambling.
I’m an obsessor. It’s all or nothing for me, quite literally. And part of the reason that loving or living with me is one of the most challenging things that any human being could take on. YOU’RE WELCOME, LOVED ONES – PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE. Just trying to help you be all you can be.